Bombay Mixx

Bombay
Mixx

A Novel by S. L. Lewis

eBook
Edition

Copyright © 2012 by S. L. Lewis

www.bombaymixx.com

Published by Big Bang Books

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-0-9572969-1
-
6

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted

in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or

other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission

of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in

critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses

permitted by copyright law.

In dedication to a very special woman, my Grandma Dacres.

Bombay
Mixx

Chapter One – New Pastures?

‘You need to give your sister a hand with her packing
,
’ my mother shouts, ‘I’m busy organising my own life and she can do it herself! She never helps me with anything
,
’ my sister replies. It was like an army major shouting at his troops to get up
!
S
o before I hear the alarm
,
I make my way downstairs still half asleep.

Even b
efore
I get to
the kitchen I heard the usual voices
although there was
one new one
;
however,
my mind gets distracted with the sound of loud pop music and the smell of eggs, toast and coffee, ‘Yum, just what I need after last night’s affair
,
’ I thought as I walked in.

‘Morning sweetheart, sleep well? Meet Ann, she’s your mother’s friend who you need to report to tomorrow morning
,
’ my father said in his thick Indian accent. It’s amazing
that
he’s been here for many years, in the thick of
East London
but he has still retained his accent. I loved this about him.

The woman stood up like a guard at the gates of the palace and introduced herself with authority
.

‘
H
ello Nita, my name is Ann Lough and I will be your supervisor when you start work at AG Cathal, so I expect you to be on time, dressed appropriately (as she said this she looked at my bed head, Prodigy ripped t-shirt and crinkled cut un-ironed jogging bottoms, which I’ve had since I was a teenager and proud that I can still get into them!) and willing to work very hard
.
’

I looked at my mother for support, thinking this woman had
had
one too many of my father
’s
extra strong, put hairs on your chest coffees
,
but unfortunately all I got was the look of ‘you
better be listening’ and at that
moment I felt like I was 6 years old again getting told off for taking more cookies from the jar when mum said I couldn’t have any
more.

Let me
give you a little background on my parents.

My mother is called Niamh and is white Irish. I could tell that in her younger days my mother was a ‘looker’ because even now she gets attention from men
her own age
, much to my father
’s
annoyance. Blonde, slim and roughly around 5’6, she came over from Ireland when she was in her late teens to become a nurse but always planned to go back once she got her qualifications
;
then she met my father and decided to settle here. My mother is a lovely, kind woman but get on the wrong side of her and she will rip your head off (as all of us have experienced in the past!).

She is a
very proud woman, who always wants the best for her family and will do anything for them, and her husband, as she had to fight very hard to get to where she is now with her family, career and marriage.

When she met my father (Parwez) (as the story is told later on in my life) she was
on a night out with her work colleagues
at the local pub near the hospital where she used to work and whilst she was waiting for a taxi to take her home, they struck up a conversation and he offered to wait with her whilst the taxi came. As my father worked close to the hospital, he used to see my mum all the time and after a few
further encounters
he asked my mother out
on
a date and she accepted.

He explained his situation after the 5th date and my mother decided to stand by him and wait.

My father’s situation was that he came over to
England
from
Bombay
to get an education
about a year before he met my mother. He comes from a proud family where his father is hardworking and enjoys peace and his mother is the one who rules the household, demands respect and believes that she is usually right on all issues.

My father’s father had a friend who was already in the
UK
and they arranged for my father to work for
him
but also arranged for my father to marry his daughter, which he did but under protest. The marriage last
ed
just over a year
before
it ended in divorce. M
y father met my mother and they be
gan
an affair
;
once his divorce was
finalised
, he married my mother and a few months later my brother Renesh was born.

My parents never speak about how they got together (probably for good reason) but I know they
experienced
a lot of prejudice and family members disowning them
because of the
interracial r
elationship but this never affected their love for one another
and wh
en I was born they started their
own taxi company and have never looked back.

I felt sorry for
my father’s
first wife because I don’t think she wanted to divorce but I’m guessing she got over it as after the divorce no one heard from her again.

I know that my father felt guilty about leaving this woman but I guess if you don’t love someone there’s only so much you can do before you finally snap.

As I thought a
bout this
, my thoughts were interrupted by my annoying sister, Gabrielle, doing her usual attention seeking routine, ‘mummy do you know whose house we’ve just got the cont
r
act to design?’ She paused for effect and everyone was waiting for her answer.

‘It’s that famous model who was in the news recently who was accused of slapping that waitress in
New York
for putting dressing on her salad!’

‘Ooooh, well done darling, keep it up
,
’ my mother replied as she gave her a congratulatory hug.

I hated the way she could get everyone to linger on her every word by doing her princess routine but I guess that’s our childhood sister hatred coming out in adult life!

My younger sister, Gabrielle and I have never got on.

I think
this might have come from
when we were younger and some of my father’s family
who we were in contact with at the time
gave me more attention than Gabrielle due to the fact that they believed that as I was lighter skinned
and, therefore,
prettier. This must have
given her
a complex which is why my mother and father spoiled her more to compensate for the cruel remarks she would get from them.

Gabrielle got used to being spoilt and although throughout the years my parents spoilt her less and less, she still got priority over where we went to eat, what clothes she would like, her curfew being extended and how long her friends could stay over.

This used to annoy me and we would have constant fights, which my calmer brother, Renesh, would always find funny and break up
.
M
y parents just had enough of our bickering and stated that if we wanted to kill each other then go for it
,
just don’t make a mess otherwise my mother would find us in the afterlife, beat us herself and bring us back to clean it up…nice, huh?

Gabrielle was never satisfied just being spoilt though. She built up such resentment of me; she would then pick on my insecurities, mainly my weight.

Through my teenage years, I was a normal, happy teenager, who cared more about getting out
of
the house than what I looked like.

I was a
UK
size 8, I was and still am 5’6 but I had a curvy figure which I knew meant that in the next few years the rest of my body would fill out to catch up to the curves and they did.

My mother always told us we were beautiful and tried to
instil
confidence in us and our bodies
,
but whilst you have Satan at your side throwing many jibes
,
you start to wonder.

I went on a few diets when I saw my weight increase but none of them worked because as soon as I smelt my father’s fantastic curries and my mother’s buttermilk scones, I knew I was fighting a loosing battle and quit
e often waved the white flag before
I’d even started!

Throughout the years, I learnt to accept my weight and just ignored Gabrielle’s comments but I still look in the mirror (like any woman does) and start to think that it would be nice if I could just change this bit then I would be happier but as my mother says, ‘it’s just a myth, your never 100% happy with your body no matter what you do to it. So amend your thinking to say that body beautiful isn’t looking like every other stick insect out there, it’s understanding your body and using what you have to feel and look sexy outside and in
.
’

Currently, I’m a size 12, curvy figure, long black straight shoulder length hair, green eyes and full lips and I’m happy with what I’ve got and try to tell my sister to be the same
,
but she’s not the best at taking advice from anyone
,
especially me!

Gabrielle
has
an olive complexion (which I find beautiful but she was darker when she was younger). She’s roughly a size 8–10, bobbed cut highlighted hair, brown eyes, and full lips and is about 5’5. She loves her fashion labels and never leaves the house without looking immaculate,
the complete opposite to me!

My sister loves money and would never date a man who earns less than £40k a year
.
T
hat
is
why she is extremely happy at the moment as she feels that she has one up on me
;
she has a good career, she’s dating a man called John who is training to become a lawyer and is nearly at her wage criteria and he adores her.