Neil was openly laughing as he threw himself into an armchair, and Shefali glared at him as the bellboy painstakingly explained where each and every emergency exit was. Shefali hoped devoutly that Neil was paying attention—the boy could have been giving her the floor plan for the Prince of Wales Museum for all the sense she could make of it.
‘Thanks,’ she said when he wound to a close.
He wasn’t done, though. ‘Ma’am, if you need to order from Room Service...’
‘If I do, I’ll look the number up in the hotel directory,’ Shefali said firmly, and glanced at the man’s name tag. ‘Thanks a lot, Ahmed, you’ve been really helpful. But I’ve not seen my fiancé for three weeks—’ she gestured towards Neil ‘—and I really, really want to spend some time alone with him.’
‘Yes—of course, ma’am,’ Ahmed said, blushing a fetching shade of pink and scuttling out of the room.
Shefali shut the door behind him and latched it firmly, then took the phone off the hook. She walked very deliberately across to Neil and started unbuttoning his shirt. She was very, very careful till the third button, doing the task as slowly and seductively as possible, then she said, ‘Ah—what the hell? I hope you aren’t too fond of this shirt.’ And ripped it off him, sending buttons flying across the room.
Before her hands could reach his jeans he had picked her up, putting her on the bed in one fluid movement and looming over her as he swiftly divested her of her clothes.
Happily, Shefali let him take over—Neil was wonderful when he was being masterful—and her mouth fell open in a helpless little ‘oh’ of delight as he covered her body with his and proceeded to make ruthless love to her.
Afterwards, he gently ran a hand over the silken lines of her body. ‘I was planning a rather grand seduction,’ he said ruefully. ‘But it sort of slipped my mind back here.’
Shefali took a swig from the bottle of water she’d taken out of the mini-bar and scooted closer to him. ‘Don’t worry—you did well,’ she said, patting his arm consolingly. ‘I’d give you a five out of ten.’
‘Five?’ Neil asked, outraged. ‘I’d say seven at least.’
Shefali thought it over. ‘OK, I’ll give you a seven,’ she conceded. ‘But I’ll need to see the grand seduction routine tonight.’ She caught sight of her watch and said, ‘Oh, help! Weren’t we supposed to meet your parents at your place at three?’
‘They’ll understand,’ Neil said lazily.
‘That’s exactly what I’m worried about,’ Shefali said, bouncing out of bed and pulling on her clothes in a hurry. ‘Come on,’ she said, slinging a pillow at him. ‘Let’s go meet the family.’
Neil groaned, but he got out of bed. Shefali was right. They needed to leave. Even though all he wanted right now was to pull her back into bed and make love to her for the rest of the day. But his parents and his sister would have arrived at his flat, and Nina was impatient to see Shefali as well. He’d just have to wait till tonight to get Shefali to himself again.
On the way to Neil’s South Mumbai flat he pointed out the school where Shefali would be working.
‘Is Nina’s school nearby?’ she asked.
‘Opposite direction,’ Neil said. ‘The school’s near Marine Drive.’
Shefali thought for a bit. ‘Would it make sense for me to try for a job in her school?’ she asked. ‘Then we could travel together, and it’d be easier for me to keep a track of what’s happening with her.’
‘I think you should stay where you are,’ Neil said. ‘My mum was a teacher in the school I went to and, boy, did it take the fun out of life! I’d get punished twice for every darn thing I did in school once by the teacher, and once by my mum when she found out what had happened.’
Shefali laughed, but she found it oddly comforting that Neil wasn’t expecting her to be with Nina twenty-four seven. That was one of the many barbs that had struck home—the suggestion that he was marrying her just because he thought she’d make a younger and better-qualified nanny for Nina than Bela. She didn’t really believe it, but once in a while insecurities did creep in.
Barbara Mitra came up to give Shefali a warm hug as soon as she stepped into the flat. Shefali smiled at the tiny blonde woman with genuine affection. Barbara was efficient, motherly and down-to-earth—as different from Shefali’s own socialite mother as possible—and in her neat cotton sari with her hair done up in a bun she looked far more like the embodiment of traditional Indian values than Mrs Khanna. Shefali’s mother wouldn’t be seen dead in anything less glamorous than silks and chiffons.
‘We have a crisis on our hands,’ Barbara announced. ‘Nina’s not happy with the outfit you got her, Neil.’
Neil frowned. ‘She chose it,’ he said, looking across at his daughter. ‘After dragging me across half a dozen shops. What’s wrong now, Nina?’
‘You got me the wrong kind of beads!’ Nina wailed. ‘I meant the kind that go in your hair! Why couldn’t you have asked Mamma Shefali? She’d have known. She’s not a dumb man like you!’
‘Nina!’ Barbara and Shefali said at the same time, and Nina scowled.
‘Sorry,’ she said to her father, clearly not sorry at all. ‘But I explained to him what I wanted and now I’ll not look nice at the wedding and it’s all his fault.’
‘Clearly,’ Neil said, looking more amused than annoyed. ‘Should I take you to the shops with me now, pumpkin? Or should we delay the wedding till we find you the correct hair accessories?’
‘I’ll go and get them,’ Shefali said. ‘I think I know what she wants.’
‘Rose-pink and dark pink,’ Nina ordered.
For a second Shefali wanted to smack her. Then good sense re-asserted itself. It was difficult for a four-year-old to cope with anyone else being the focus of attention, and if Nina was acting uncharacteristically bratty it was probably because she was as stressed about the wedding as Shefali was herself.
‘Rose-pink and dark pink it is,’ she said, and Nina’s lovely little face broke into such a happy smile that Shefali felt her heart go out to her. She smiled back at her and, leaning down, gave her a little hug.
‘Your friends from your old school made a card for you,’ she said. ‘And I’ve got you a couple of gifts as well—I’ll give them to you once I get back from the store.’
‘I’ll take you,’ Neil said. ‘There’s a store ten minutes from here.’
Shefali was beginning to get her bearings around the area—the store was in the same direction as her hotel—but she was glad to have Neil by her side, pointing out landmarks and explaining the road signs which seemed to be designed to confuse.
‘This place reminds me of my grandparents,’ Neil said as he pushed open the door of the store. ‘I used to go to London every summer, and the original version of this store is right next to their house. My grandmother used to spoil me silly, buying me stuff from there. In those days you didn’t get the same kind of stuff in India. I think I was more thrilled than Nina was when they opened a branch here.’
‘It’s pretty amazing,’ Shefali agreed, going across to the girls’ clothing section and rummaging through a large bin of hair accessories. ‘These are the kind she wants,’ she said, clipping open some of the beads and showing Neil how they would fit over a braid.
Neil was investigating a shelf full of dolls.
‘Do you think Nina would like one of these?’ he asked. ‘That Dora of hers is getting rather ratty. But these look awful. They’re anorexic. Except for that one—ugh, it’s pregnant!’ he recoiled from a row of dolls sporting prominent baby bumps. ‘Why would they sell those things to little kids?’ he asked in appalled tones as they paid for the beads and left the store.
Shefali shrugged. ‘I guess it’s supposed to be a way to help a kid deal with her mum expecting a child. I don’t know. Look, I’m dying for a cup of coffee—do we have time?’
; ‘We do,’ Neil said, leading the way into a small café near the store.
Evidently the pregnant doll was still playing on Neil’s mind, because after ordering their coffees he said, ‘Bringing up a girl is a lot tougher than bringing up a boy. I wouldn’t have known how to explain those dolls if Nina had been with me. Some of this stuff is positively embarrassing when it’s your own daughter you’re talking to.’
‘Aren’t you glad I’m going to be around?’ Shefali asked teasingly.
‘It’s a big relief,’ he admitted. ‘Every time I used to think of Nina reaching her teens I’d break into a cold sweat—my mother and sister are in different cities, and Bela Mashi’s not likely to be clued in about stuff like clothes and make-up and Lord knows what else.’
‘Trainer bras,’ Shefali supplied. ‘And boyfriends. And vampire movies. And tattoos. And whether facial piercing is a good idea.’
Neil blanched. ‘You can handle all that, thank you very much,’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t know what to do.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Shefali said, but she couldn’t help thinking how unfair it was. Neil was expecting her to treat his child as her own when he refused even to consider having children with her.
Some of her feelings must have shown on her face, because Neil reached across the table and took her hands in his. ‘Nervous about the wedding?’ he asked softly.
Shefali looked up. At that same moment a baby began to cry somewhere in the café, and quite suddenly something seemed to snap within her. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘And not just about the wedding. I’m nervous about a lot.’
His eyebrows arched up in query, and Shefali stood up clumsily.
‘Let’s get out of here,’ she muttered.
The coffee was already paid for, and Neil had her out of the café in a few minutes.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asked quietly.
‘I can’t not have children of my own,’ Shefali said, as the doubts and fears of the last few weeks crystallised into one inescapable fact. ‘I don’t know why I agreed to it. I can’t marry you—we’ll have to call off the wedding.’
Neil absorbed the statement slowly, his grey-blue eyes not wavering from her face as she looked up at him helplessly.
‘What’s brought this on?’ he asked. ‘When you got off the train this morning you seemed perfectly OK, and afterwards...’
Afterwards she’d been so blinded by her feelings for Neil that she’d determinedly pushed every doubt out of her mind. Even now the impulse to capitulate and throw herself into his arms was immense. Her nails dug into her palms as she clenched her hands, willing herself not to move closer to him.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, her face pale and miserable. ‘I’ve been trying to tell myself that this will work, but it won’t.’
‘Is this just about having children?’ Neil asked. ‘Because if it is...’
‘It’s not just that,’ Shefali said. ‘Though that’s the biggest reason.’
‘What else, then?’
Shefali made a despairing gesture. ‘You didn’t want to get involved with me in the first place. Ever since we started seeing each other it’s like I’ve been pushing you into taking the next step—you’ve always been reluctant.’
Neil started to say something, but Shefali forestalled him.
‘It’s my fault,’ she said. ‘I was on the rebound from Pranav, and I... I...’ Even now she couldn’t bring herself to admit that she loved Neil, so she said instead, ‘I was so keen on marrying you I agreed to whatever you said. I didn’t stop to think what our lives would be like after we’d married—’
‘There will be absolutely nothing wrong with our lives after we marry,’ Neil interrupted, his heart thudding so loudly he could hardly hear himself speak.
The thought of losing Shefali was unbearable. He’d taken it for granted, assumed he’d have all the time in the world to reverse his decision about starting a family with her—and now, already, it seemed it might be too late.
‘I’ve had a lot of time to think ever since I got back to Mumbai and you’re right,’ he said. ‘It’s not fair to you, insisting that we don’t have children. Hell, it’s probably not even fair to Nina—you’d be unhappy, and you’d start resenting her after a while, and that’s the last thing she needs.’
‘Are you saying you’ve changed your mind?’ she said slowly.
‘I have,’ he said, bitterly regretting the old habit of caution that had stopped him from telling her sooner. ‘We can have as many kids you want. I was being impractical and wrong-headed before. And as far as the rest of it goes, I’ve said it many times—I’ve always wanted to be with you. If I’ve pulled back at times it’s because I thought it was best either for you or for Nina...’
And I love you, he thought. I can’t live without you. But the words stuck in his throat when he tried to say them. The realisation of what she meant to him had come late, and he needed some time to get to grips with the emotions that were sweeping over him.
‘Right...’ Shefali said, her eyes searching his face for a clue as to how he really felt.
He held her gaze, taking her hand and bringing it up to his lips. ‘We’ll be great together,’ he said softly. ‘Trust me.’
‘How do I know you won’t change your mind again?’ she asked finally.
‘I won’t,’ he said, and there was enough conviction in his tone for her to finally accept what he was saying.
He still hadn’t told her he loved her, but she didn’t have the guts to push the point. He cared deeply for her, that much was evident, and it would have to do.
‘The wedding goes ahead as planned, then?’ he asked, and she nodded.
She felt drained and a little sick after the emotional rollercoaster of the last fifteen minutes.
‘I guess,’ Shefali said, and her voice was subdued. The incident felt like a preview of the rest of her life with Neil. She’d always be on guard, always be apologising for saying the wrong thing. He would brush her apologies aside, but inside he’d be wondering why he’d married her. ‘Can you drop me back at the hotel?’ she asked. ‘I’m really tired. And, Neil...?’
‘You don’t want me to come back with you?’ he said.
She nodded. ‘I’m really tired,’ she said again, and he didn’t object.
His sense of relief after the averted crisis was immense, but he knew that there was a long way to go before he and Shefali reached the level of understanding they needed for a successful marriage. Right now he was just profoundly grateful that they were getting married at all, after the hash he had made of things.
‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ Shefali said as the car pulled up in front of the hotel. On a sudden impulse she leaned across and kissed Neil hard on the mouth, slipping out of the car and running up the hotel steps without turning back to look at him.
Once in her room, she collapsed into bed and fell fast asleep, waking only when her mother called her the next morning to demand whether she was ready for the registry office wedding.
The wedding ceremony itself was rather dire, performed in a dingy little office at the civil court. Shefali was dressed in a simple but expensive khadi silk sari, and she looked as out of place among the bored clerks and pairs of runaway lovebirds as a swan in a congregation of crows.
‘What a way to get married,’ her mother remarked disgustedly as they finally exited the court. ‘It hardly seems legal.’
‘It’s perfectly legal, Mum,’ Shefali said wearily. ‘Actually, it’s a sight more legal than going through a religious ceremony and forgetting to register it afterwards, like Shravan.’
Her older brother had had a tough time getting his marriage legalised when he’d realised that the last date for registering it had gone by. His wife had been expecting their first child, and she’d gone mental when she’d realised that the baby would be deeme
d illegitimate unless the paperwork was sorted out.
Her mother gave a ladylike snort. ‘I hope the reception party is a little more civilised,’ she said, changing the subject as she always did when she didn’t like the direction a conversation was taking.
Shefali was dreading the wedding reception. It was to be a smallish affair by Delhi standards, but there would still be over two hundred people attending, mainly relatives and friends. She’d expected the occasion to be a happy one, but now she couldn’t wait for it to be over.
‘Who’s doing your hair and make-up?’ her mother demanded, following her to her hotel room.
Her parents were in the same hotel as she was—so was Shravan, with his wife and now-legitimate son—and her mother was rapidly trying to assume control over the arrangements.
‘I don’t know. Rafiq and Priti are sending someone.’
Her mother looked deeply suspicious. ‘What kind of someone?’ she demanded. ‘I hope it’s not one of those roadside beauty parlour types. I knew I should have brought Shabnam down with me from Delhi. She did such a wonderful job with your wedding make-up last time. You looked like a princess.’ Noticing Shefali’s expression, she said, ‘It’s not her fault the wedding got called off. And she understands your hair and skin. Someone new might make a hash of things.’
Shefali wished she could tell her mother that right now she could do with some understanding of herself, but she bit the words back. Her mother would throw a hissy fit if she knew that things between her and Neil weren’t as hunky-dory as they seemed. And her father had prudently removed himself from the whole hair and make-up discussion—he’d arranged to meet some former colleagues at the bar before the reception began.
Not even Shefali’s mother could find fault with the stylist when he finally arrived—Freddy Contractor was the make-up man for one of Bollywood’s leading ladies, and had his own extremely popular TV show. Rafiq had shamelessly traded favours to get him to come.
He took a long look at Shefali. ‘This won’t do,’ he said finally.
Shefali gave herself a nervous look in the mirror. What wouldn’t do? Her clothes, her hair, her face—what?
Secrets & Saris Page 15