A Scandalous Secret (22 page)

‘Come to Select City Mall tomorrow morning to meet me,' Keshav said gruffly, pulling away and cupping his hands over Sonya's face. ‘Ask Didi where it is and she will arrange transport. Come alone, okay? I want to spend time with you alone, not like this in a group,' he whispered. Sonya nodded before kissing Keshav tenderly on his lower lip. He held her close and she felt her nascent love for him bubbling up from the very bottom of her stomach. Then, reluctantly, he pulled away. ‘Go inside,' he said, ‘I will wait here until you are inside and I can see that you have closed your door.'

Walking on clouds Sonya ran towards the small spiral
stairway before turning to wave goodbye to Keshav one last time. She was taken aback when Estella suddenly materialised at the top of the stairs. ‘God, you scared me there, Stel. All okay? You were out like a light in the car.'

‘I'm fine, thanks. More to the point, are
you
okay?' Estella paused briefly before setting off again, ‘Look Sonya, I don't mean to be a damp squib but are you sure you know what you're doing? You know I like Keshav, and he's been great showing us round, but we haven't known him that long. I mean, did you actually sleep with him when Gopal and I went off?'

‘No, of course I didn't! What do you take me for?' Sonya said defensively.

Estella looked dubious. ‘I'm just worried, is all. Please just promise me you'll be careful.' Estella seemed to be holding back saying any more and for that Sonya was thankful.

‘Of course I will, darling. Come on, let's hit the sack, I'm exhausted,' Sonya replied before rushing past her friend into the room.

Sharat shot a look at Neha sitting next to him in the car. Jasmeet's birthday celebration had segued from lunch into tea and all that food and conversation had quite exhausted both of them. Neha was sunk in silence, looking out of the window at the remnants of the wholesale flower market at Andheria Mor as the car languished at a light. The driver had expertly negotiated the evening traffic from Gurgaon and they were over halfway home. Though never an overly chatty person, Neha had been unusually quiet on the journey back from Jasmeet's party. Sharat knew her well enough to realize that something was bothering her. Something, in fact, had been bothering her since their own party ten days ago, which is why he had encouraged her to go off to Ananda. The place was usually very effective in dispelling Neha's occasional dark moods but this time it did not seem to have worked. She had come back from the spa apparently as tightly wound up as she had been on her departure, although she, of course, would have been astonished had Sharat mentioned it. Neha made every effort to do what she thought was a good job at concealing her feelings. It might work with other people, Sharat thought, but not with him. One did not stay married to the same
person for fifteen years without getting to recognize their every change of mood.

He reached out over the car seat to pick up Neha's hand that was lying limp on the seat between them. Startled, she looked at him, her eyes large in her face. ‘What's up?' he asked gently. ‘You're miles away.'

She smiled and shook her head. ‘Just been suffering a headache all day.'

‘Oh dear, bad one? Migraine?'

‘Maybe … I would have cancelled going for lunch if it had not been Jasmeet's anniversary.'

Sharat grinned, ‘No one ever says no to old Jasmeet if they are in their right mind.'

Neha smiled in agreement. ‘Even back in school, she was such a bossy little thing we were all really petrified of her.'

‘On the other hand, you've stayed in touch with her since you were both six. So she can't be too unbearable. Unless you
like
being bossed around!'

‘Hmm, that must make you a bossy husband, seeing how long I've stayed with you,' Neha remarked, laughing at the very idea because she knew, like everyone else, what a genial person Sharat always was.

Neha's phone rang and, quite suddenly, the smile was wiped off her face. She stared at Sharat with a stricken expression on her face as the ringing went on before she hastily scrambled to pick up her handbag which was lying at her feet. She pulled the phone out of its case and, with barely a glance at its screen, she turned it off.

‘What did you do that for?' Sharat asked, surprised at Neha's irrational act.

‘Oh nothing … I've been getting some crank calls lately.'

‘
Crank
calls?'

‘No, I don't mean crank calls exactly but, you know, those annoying sales calls. They are like stalkers, those telesales people. I've told them to take my number off their list but they just keep calling and calling. I have a good mind to report the company to someone.'

‘What company is it?'

Neha gave Sharat a blank look and said, ‘Oh, I don't know, some stupid company. Something to do with telephones … Telstar, I think. No, that's an air-conditioning company, isn't it. Maybe Telcom?'

Neha stopped her frantic gabbling and Sharat, rather than continuing to stare at her open-mouthed, turned his head to look out of the window. He ought not to get suspicious without good reason. But how could one help wondering? Neha was behaving very strangely and, although Sharat felt very uneasy, he did not want to ask her the reason right away. He suddenly recalled that story he had heard recently of his old classmate, Anup, whose wife had apparently run off with her physical trainer. The classmates he had been gossiping with at their school reunion had all laughed at the utter triteness of the story but Sharat had not been able to help feeling sorry for the chap he remembered as being a bumbling, well-meaning sort …

They travelled on through the Delhi traffic, sitting in the back seat of their elegant Mercedes, but now Sharat too was silent, his earlier good mood suddenly dispelled.

When they reached home, Neha said she was going to have a nap. Sharat watched her going upstairs before walking down the corridor to the study. Suddenly, he was anxious all over again, experiencing a strange deep thudding in his chest that he had not encountered in years. Certainly not
since the time he and Neha were trying for children and kept failing, month after month …

Sharat sat on an armchair in the study and tried leafing through the papers. But he had read the whole sheaf cover-to-cover this morning and was quickly bored by them. He ran his eye along the vast collection of books that lined the walls but knew he lacked the concentration to read a book right now. Instead, he stretched out on the sofa and, perhaps due to the cheese-laden lasagna he had eaten at lunch, he soon drifted off.

In less than fifteen minutes, Sharat came awake again with a jolt. He lay looking blearily at the ceiling, trying to find his bearings and wondering whether he had perhaps had a bad dream. Then he slowly recalled the reason for which he was feeling a little sick in the stomach … It was so uncharacteristic of Neha to lie to him. And, clearly, she had been lying to him, babbling on about crank calls as a reason for not answering the telephone. Perhaps he ought to ask her directly if there was some problem. Crank calls. A likely story!

Sharat took the stairs to the first floor, his bare feet soundless on the marble tiles. The bedroom door was ajar and he walked straight in. Neha was fast asleep on their bed, her forehead creased into an anxious frown, possibly due to the headache she had mentioned earlier. She must have fallen straight into bed as she was still in the same clothes she had worn to Jasmeet's lunch. Even the handbag she had carried was lying next to her on the bed. Sharat saw Neha's phone peeping out from the rim of the bag and, giving in to sudden impulse, he picked it up and took it out of the room. He flicked it open and, in the bright sunshine of the bathroom, he swiftly scrolled through the list of calls she had recently received. Almost all the
numbers came up with familiar names against them – ‘Mummy', ‘Ma', ‘Papa', ‘Jasmeet' and, of course, ‘Sharat' many times over. But she had been called twice from a landline at two-thirty pm, while they had been at lunch in the hotel, and then by an unfamiliar mobile number at four-twelve, which was probably the call she had received while they were in the car. Still being uncharacteristically nosy, Sharat hit the callback button on the landline but, even after twenty rings, there was no reply. Then he dialled the mobile number that had called when they were in the car. He held his breath again as the phone started to ring. This time, after a few seconds, it was answered by a male voice. ‘Hello? Hello?' the voice said, adding, ‘Hello, is that you, Neha?'

Sharat hung up hastily without replying. He was quite certain he did not recognize the voice. The man who had called Neha had a broad American accent that Sharat would surely recognize if he had heard it before. Who could this person be whom Neha was so reluctant to speak to in front of him? Sharat looked at the phone again, pained and puzzled by what he thought he was piecing together. For the first time since he had married Neha, Sharat suddenly felt very shaken and very uncertain of his marriage.

The Coffee Bean Café at the entrance to Select City Mall was buzzing with mostly young people. Sonya took one of the few available two-seater tables, choosing the chair facing the entrance so she could see Keshav when he came in. She rubbed her hands over cold arms. It wasn't merely the powerful air conditioning in the mall that was causing her to break out into goosebumps, but the memory of the evening she had spent with Keshav in Gopal's house. Sonya wondered how on earth she had managed to resist Keshav's passionate advances, knowing that it would be very difficult to continue fending him off. She felt a warm flush overcome her, imagining how wonderful it would be to make love to someone as confident and attentive as Keshav. Comparisons may be odious but clearly poor Tim was not a patch on Keshav when it came to pursuing her. Except for when he was fired up by beer, Tim was hesitant and nervous, as though she were a china doll he might break. Keshav, on the other hand, had been bold and unashamed as he had kissed and caressed her, and was probably as willing to take pleasure as give it. Sonya wondered what she should say if Keshav insisted on taking her somewhere where they could be alone today. Should she resist? Would she have the determination to do so?
Somehow it felt unnecessary to put poor Keshav through such a test again … Worrying that Estella would mind her coming out to meet Keshav solo had been quite un necessary. While she had reiterated the need for Sonya to be careful, Estella was happy to stay at home. ‘Clichéd as it may sound, I need to wash my hair, darlin'.' Getting to the mall had been a cinch too as Sonya had merely taken a lift from Mr Mahajan.

She now sipped on her glass of water, looking around the café and through its plate-glass panes, quite astonished by all the affluence she could see around her. The names of the surrounding shops were exactly those of any mall back in England. From where she was seated, Sonya could see ‘Clinique' and ‘Mango' and ‘Nine West'. Although both she and Estella had been trying very hard not to judge India by their Western sensibilities, she couldn't help wondering what India's millions of poor people felt being surrounded by such wealth. Those beggars at the traffic lights, for instance, who tapped piteously on the windows of gleaming air-conditioned foreign cars. The disparity was sometimes staggering. Why, even Keshav had admitted to being quite overwhelmed by India's economic progress, stating quite angrily as they had been eating last night that only two per cent of the population was benefiting from globalisation. ‘Only these rich bastards in their massive bungalows and imported cars are getting any advantage out of it,' he said and, later, ‘The government also is only there for the business people and together they are both juicing the workers. This place is only meant for the rich.'

Sonya's thoughts were now interrupted when she spotted Keshav come striding in through the glass doors. Once again, she felt physically jolted by how handsome he looked with those dark, brooding looks of his. She raised her arm
but Keshav had already seen her and was walking confidently, in his usual assured manner, towards where she was seated.

He bent down and brushed his mouth against hers discreetly and Sonya guessed that kissing in public was not the done thing, even in newly globalized India. ‘You have not ordered anything?' he asked.

‘Thought I'd wait for you,' Sonya said, adding quickly, ‘I'll get it,' when Keshav made as if to go to the counter. Even without the conversation about India's rich and poor, it hadn't been difficult to work out that Keshav didn't have much money to his name. Except for last night's dinner at the
dhaba
(where he appeared to have some kind of credit system and refused to take money from the girls), she and Estella had made sure to pick up all their food and drink costs so far. It was only fair, given that Keshav was taking them around Delhi gratis. His father was chauffeur to the Mahajans and his mother a seamstress in a garment export establishment. Keshav had also mentioned that he often drove taxis at weekends in order to help make ends meet. Sonya had no doubt that he led a rather tough life, but it only made him all the more romantic in her eyes.

Having ordered an Americano for herself and a cold coffee with ice cream for Keshav, Sonya navigated her way back to their table. ‘They'll serve it here at our table, apparently,' she remarked, joining Keshav and sitting down next to him on the red leatherette seat. She slipped her wallet back into her bag and smiled. ‘I'm getting spoilt. In England, you have to wait ages at the counter and then carry everything back to your table yourself.'

‘Really? Here, even in movie theatres, they will bring food and drinks to where you're sitting,' Keshav said.

‘You don't say! Waiter service in the cinema – how terrific!
I can't wait to drop that in the suggestion box of the cinema back home.'

Keshav was silent for a moment before he spoke. ‘So you'll soon be going back to your home. And leaving India,' he said abruptly, his voice suddenly flat and unhappy.

‘Well, we don't go straight home after this but on to Agra and Fatehpur Sikri, then Kerala in the south before we return from there straight to England. But, you're right, there's not many days left in Delhi … perhaps you could come along to Agra with us? What do you think?' Sonya said, surprised at how deflated she too felt at the thought of leaving Delhi, and leaving Keshav. Only two days ago, she had been depressed and railing against how awful the city was.

But Keshav seemed not to have heard her invitation. ‘Don't go, Sonya. Don't leave Delhi. Postpone your ticket back to England,' he said. He sounded so sad, it made Sonya's heart ache. No one had ever made her feel this way before and, suddenly, she wanted to weep.

She reached out for Keshav's hands. They were cold from his iced drink and so she rubbed his fingers to warm them again. ‘Oh, Keshav,' she said softly, unable now to look him straight in the eyes because of her own confused feelings. ‘It's all been booked weeks in advance and Delhi was only ever going to be for a few days because that was what the travel company back in England had advised. They weren't to know that we would meet in this rather unexpected way, did they?' Keshav did not reflect her smile and so Sonya continued speaking. ‘Stel would be ever so disappointed if we didn't go to Agra. And Kerala. I consider myself lucky to have met you and got to know you. So we'll certainly stay in touch, won't we? Until we can be together again, that is …'

‘But when will that be, Sonya? It could be forever before you come back again to Delhi.'

‘It doesn't have to be, my darling. It's just that I have to get back to England now. Stel and I have to get ready for college which will start when we get back, you see. Oh, how it breaks my heart to leave you, Keshav. Having only just met you …' Sonya trailed off, close to tears. Then she tried to brighten her voice, looking up at Keshav with an earnest expression. ‘But I'll begin making plans to visit again, very soon. I could stay again with the Mahajans, couldn't I, and hang out with you?'

Keshav looked partially mollified but was clearly not completely convinced by Sonya's sincerity. ‘You'll come back to India just to see me?' he asked.

Sonya nodded, ‘I most certainly will. And
only
to see you – I won't need to do any more sightseeing, will I? As for Neha Chaturvedi, I've done what I set out to achieve in Delhi. Nothing more to be done there. Really, meeting you has been the unexpected bonus in all this, Keshav.'

But Keshav did not appear to have registered the compliment. Instead, he blurted, ‘You don't need to see Neha Chaturvedi again? Ask her for anything?'

Sonya thought for a minute before saying firmly, ‘No, I don't think I want to see her again. I think I've got it out of my system now, and want to leave it there. I discussed it with Stel too and she feels the same way.'

Keshav's expression turned indignant. ‘But this Neha Chaturvedi, she left you when you were a baby, Sonya! How can you just forgive her? I don't know about what happens in England but here, in India, a mother is like a
devi
, you know, a goddess! Sacrificing her last morsel of food for her children!'

His voice was so aggrieved and angry that it startled
Sonya. She was touched by how strongly Keshav felt on her behalf and tried to explain. ‘It's usually not that different in England too, Keshav. Mothers generally love their kids to death. I was just one of the unlucky ones – until my parents adopted me, that is. They're really lovely and would love you too if only they could meet you …' Sonya trailed off, trying to imagine what her parents back in cosy little Orpington would quite likely say if they did meet Keshav. It was too complicated a scenario to consider right now and so Sonya returned to her original point. ‘Look, the whole thing with Neha Chaturvedi was far more upsetting than I'd bargained for, Keshav, especially meeting her like that in the park. For one, I hadn't quite expected someone as young and vulnerable looking as her and …'

‘Bullshit,' Keshav cut in loudly, ‘These people are rich and powerful. Not vul … vulnerable …' he stumbled on the word and stopped.

Sonya stroked Keshav's forearm gently, trying to soothe his sudden agitated feelings. ‘No, really, Keshav, it's okay. I have the most loving Mum and Dad back in England and now I really just want to go home to them. Neha Chaturvedi has never been anything to me, and never will be. Briefly, I was curious about her. And angry with what she had done. But, suddenly I don't feel so strongly any more. Maybe it was meeting you and getting to see India's many complexities through your eyes that changed me, you know!'

But Keshav looked unconvinced. He sipped his coffee through a straw, focusing his attention on the milky liquid in his glass. After a pause, he looked up and straight into Sonya's eyes and said firmly. ‘Okay, forget Neha Chaturvedi. But I want to come with you, Sonya. I want to leave this
hell that's good only for people like those Chaturvedis, and come with you to England.'

Taken aback, Sonya wondered whether she should laugh off the rather wild suggestion but the expression on Keshav's face was deadly serious. He really did think it was possible to leave India and go with her to England!

‘Oh Keshav, darling, I wish it was as easy as that! I know it's unfair but I keep hearing of what a nightmare it is for anyone who isn't a British citizen to get past UK immigration. How on earth would we get you there?'

‘I'll get a job, I'll do something. Your mother and father will take care of us until we can get jobs and get married.'

‘Married!? Cripes, I hadn't realized we'd got as far as that,' Sonya laughed.

But Keshav seemed to take offence at her laughter. ‘You are laughing at me now …' he said, his demeanour suddenly surly.

‘Of course I'm not laughing at you, Keshav, it just seems to be jumping the gun a bit to be talking about marriage so early on in our relationship …' Sonya trailed off, aware of how defensive she must sound. She thought for a second and then opened up again, trying to lighten Keshav's mood. ‘What we had yesterday was so beautiful, Keshav, we both know that. But what we need to do is get to know each other better over time …'

‘How? I am here and you will be there.'

‘Communication's so easy now – we can email and message and call and Skype … distances matter so little these days …'

But Keshav's face was dark and frowning. ‘If I can't come with you, then I don't want you to go, Sonya. Stay here with me. I will marry you. Then we can both go to England someday.'

Sonya could not help laughing again as Keshav's suggestions got wilder and wilder. ‘Oh, Keshav, you're being a silly goose now. I have a place at Oxford waiting for me and …'

But Keshav was now seriously angry, his voice rising over the din of the coffee shop as he pulled his hands out of Sonya's and sat back in his chair. ‘You can laugh, all you rich girls,' he said, his voice shaking with emotion. ‘You come along to countries like mine and think you can buy anything, even guys like me. And then you go back to your own rich countries. Forgetting all the people you leave behind who tried to make you happy. But you can't do that, you know. There is a price to pay. There
should
be a price to pay. And, if you won't pay it, I will get your mother – that Neha Chaturvedi who lives in her palace on Prithviraj Road – to pay up for you.'

‘Keshav, don't …' Sonya pleaded, her eyes brimming with sudden shocked tears. ‘Please don't be like this. What's happened to you … what we had yesterday was so …'

‘So? So what? I know what you are going to say …' At this point Keshav's voice went mocking and high-pitched as he put on a psuedo English accent, ‘So byootiful, so laaavely, you kiss so well, I love you Keshav …' Then, reverting to a hard tone of voice, he continued, ‘They all escape like that. But I won't let you get away too.'

‘Who's they?' Sonya asked, suddenly weak and trembling.

‘Girls like you,' came Keshav's harsh reply.

‘Keshav, I thought ….' Sonya trailed off, picking up her bag and clutching it against her chest, her face blanched white. Then she asked, her voice trembling, ‘What are you going to do?

Keshav regarded her through narrowed eyes. ‘Don't
forget I know where Neha Chaturvedi lives. You also gave me her number that day. I have called her once and will call her again. She will now have to pay the price for what
you
have done to me, teasing me and leading me on like that, only to drop me once you have had your fun. Yes, I know
firangi
girls like you. You're all the same.'

Frightened by Keshav's mean expression and threatening tone of voice, Sonya got up from her chair with a cry and ran towards the door of the coffee shop. She darted out, not daring to look back and, weaving her way past surprised shoppers, she ran and ran until she saw an exit and stumbled out into the bright morning sunshine. Finally looking over her shoulder, she saw that Keshav had thankfully not followed her. She spotted an auto-rickshaw and waved her arm furiously, tumbling into the back seat in a terrible panic.