The Monsoon Rain (17 page)

He needed some advice. Thank God Charles would be here within a few days. He would talk to him, would have to. Too many people had been hurt, including his dear father and mother. His mum had been a real brick; she had kept his father cool and stopped him from going off the handle. What on earth had made him get involved like this? This innocent girl, coming all the way to see him. He had taken it for granted that her visit was for the sole purpose of seeing him. He had let her down. He did feel miserable, but his hands were tied, for the moment at least—and how long that moment would last he did not know. It could be years before he had the courage to make a clean breast of things, this ominous affair that had loomed large in his life until now. Derek wanted to come clean about everything.

But all the odds were against him. He got into a panic each time he contemplated telling her. He knew and felt quite sure of it, that his confession would drive her away faster than anything that had taken place up to now. He was in a quandary and did not know which way to turn. But he knew one thing for sure, Miranda was not going to stand for all this for much longer. His friend James had hinted as much. She was planning on returning to England, and it was quite imminent. That was what James had told him that very afternoon. This visit this evening was an excuse to see Miranda and to make sure that she did come to the party that he was intending to throw for his friend and his new bride. Maybe he could coax her into coming over to meet Charu a few days before the party; at least then they would be able to spend some time together.

Miranda was about to bring this insufferable silence to an end by making a caustic remark like, “Are you still sulking?” but even before she could open her mouth to say anything Derek approached her and laid his hand on her shoulder. Miranda, despite all the anger and rancor that had clouded her mind a moment before, laid her head on his hands. They stayed like this for some time, quiet. The silence spoke volumes.

A smile slowly spread across his face as he recalled her silent and suppressed anger! And knowing Mira, and knowing that she could be quite stubborn sometimes, he smiled to himself.

He mumbled something about Charu and Charles’s arrival, that they were coming in a week’s time and would be staying for a week. Would Miranda like to come over to his place and meet her old friends? Charu had telephoned him a few times to make sure that Miranda would be there to meet Charu. Miranda did not know what to say. Her aunt came to her rescue. Clever Dolly, Miranda thought.

Derek removed his hand hastily from Miranda’s shoulder and repeated himself, this time quite loudly.

“Of course she will meet her best friend,” Dolly said in a very quiet voice, coming in as if on cue! “Tom, Tom,” she called out, “where is Derek’s whisky?”

Dolly sat down on the hand-carved wood sofa. “Maybe Charu could come here, instead,” she continued. “After all, the girls will
have so much to discuss and such a lot to talk about. Don’t you think so, Tom?”

Her husband did not for the world know what she was mumbling about, having just come in. Handing Derek his drink, he said, “Ah, ugh, yes,” as if he had been programmed to agree with Dolly, always.

Derek did not know what to say. She had him cornered!

“So that’s settled then,” Dolly carried on, as if making sure that they would stick to her plans. “Charu will telephone Miranda no doubt as soon as she arrives, and maybe she could come and have lunch with us. The two friends will need some privacy!” she finished off with a smug look.

Derek by now had sat down and uncrossed his legs, sitting upright in his chair. She had such a lovely sweet way of manipulating situations! What could one do but agree with her? Making sure that they were all coming to the party, he stood up to leave.

Dolly asked him to stay for supper. After all, he had often stayed back and had supper with them, why not today? Derek was upset at first with Dolly for insisting that Charu should come over to them and not Miranda go to his place. And secondly, Miranda had not uttered one word the whole evening. Not one word to him, had not even greeted him. Of course she had smiled when he arrived, but that was it. No conversation, nothing. No, he was not staying for supper, but he would make sure that Miranda turned up for the party. Declining Dolly’s offer of supper, Derek walked toward the door.

“Please do come, Mira,” he said, looking intently at her, and with that he bounded down the few stairs outside. They heard a screeching noise on the gravel outside as he took off at a terrific speed in his jeep.

Dolly was quite pleased with the events of the evening. She knew that Derek was slightly on edge, and she did not feel at all sorry for him. Her poor niece, she felt sorry for the poor girl. She loved him so much, and he was leading her up the garden path! Visit him, indeed! She would make sure that Charu came to her place, not the other way around.

“You will have to dress very grand, my dear,” she said to her precious niece. “We will make you look real pretty for the party.”

It was already late by the time they settled down for supper. Miranda was not hungry at all. Derek’s unexpected appearance had made her feel very tense, and now she felt quite weak in the knees. She was angry with herself for feeling like this, but she had no control over the fluttering in the pit of her stomach. He could turn her into jelly. Her face was very flushed, and she hoped to God Derek had not noticed it.

But Derek had noticed it, and before leaving, he very briefly for a fleeting moment had touched her hand. Brushed it, accidentally? Just for a second she felt the pressure of his hand, and then it was gone. He had looked very intently into her eyes before he took off.

Dolly saw it all. She knew that this man loved her niece, but why was he not able to commit himself? What was holding him back? She was at a loss herself; she could not comprehend his behavior and was determined to get to the bottom of it.

She hoped he was not involved with some tea-garden woman. How would she find out? Talk to Charu? Nobody seemed to know anything, or was it that people were holding something back? Something awful, some awful tea-garden secret. Oh dear, what was she to do? She was not hungry, but she made a pretense of eating something. Hannah was around, but that was definitely history. Her poor niece.

Supper that night was a silent affair. The three of them were busy with their own thoughts. Mira was engrossed in Derek, Dolly was angry and upset with Derek, and Tom was completely in the dark, trying to figure out what had caused this silence and monosyllabic answers. Nobody was hungry, except himself! He loved the way the fish was cooked by the khansama, very aromatic indeed. It went very well with the fried rice and the whisky! Why weren’t the girls eating? Maybe they were watching their weight, he thought. Mira did not look fat to him, and Dolly was always a little tubby. Maybe they were planning to lose some weight for the party. That was it, the party. But why were they so morose? Talking would not affect their eating. Maybe it was a secret he was not privy to. Better make a hasty retreat he wanted to disappear into his own study where he felt comfortable and was not stepping on anybody’s toes. The talk about the coming event, Derek’s party, bored him to death anyway. His wife’s peculiar
behavior this evening had surprised him, and Miranda’s sudden tears was the final icing on the cake. What was going on? He did not really want to know, but being a kind man, seeing Miranda so distressed pained him. This much, he concluded, all boiled down to Derek somehow, but how he could not fathom. Tom made a hasty retreat to his den, or “the study,” as Dolly referred to it in her own way.

Charu arrived a few days after the Derek episode. She telephoned Miranda from Derek’s residence, sounding extremely chirpy and friendly and wanting to meet Mira immediately. But why did Miranda feel that there was an undercurrent to her conversation? Something about Charu’s voice. Charu “sounded” rich, as if richness could be communicated across telephone wires! But Miranda had a distinct feeling that her childhood best friend had changed and was rather condescending when she spoke to Mira. Anyway, the conversation automatically revolved around “my husband” this and “my husband” that, as if she had lost her own identity. Apparently Charles was her only topic of conversation. Miranda felt slightly disconcerted and reluctantly agreed to meet her friend the next day for lunch. Charu suggested Mira come over to Derek’s, which Mira quickly declined, suggesting instead the club or her uncle’s place. They decided on the club.

Replacing the receiver, she had the feeling that her friend was undermining her in some way; was it because Miranda was still unmarried or was it because Charu had married money? Or was Miranda wrong about Charu, and the events of the recent months had caused her to become paranoid and suspicious? Anyway, lunch it would have to be, and she would have to wait until then to read Charu,

Miranda had a sneaky feeling it was Derek who had engineered the whole thing. He had wanted her to come over to his place, but she would not let that happen. She was meeting Charu on a completely neutral ground.

Dolly would not disagree to that, and if he did make an appearance at the club during the course of lunch, by chance, who was to say
anything? After all, Charu was his guest and bringing Charles over to meet Mira during the course of the meal would be the most natural thing to do.

Miranda was suddenly sure that Derek would make an appearance, and she felt rather excited at the prospect of seeing him. Though the whole plan seemed to be slightly underhanded, she could hardly wait. Tomorrow seemed like a very long time. Already Miranda felt the butterflies in the pit of her stomach, and a flush was starting to creep up her cheeks. She knew that she had improved in looks since the time she had spent in India, what with the early-morning golf with Uncle Tom and the occasional tennis at the club, and swimming, of course. Her tennis had improved considerably, which she could hardly play when she was in England. She had a lovely tan and had lost a few pounds with all the exercise she was getting. She felt and looked good. It would be an awful pity when she went back to the dreary, cold, and drizzly London, running for the Tube and the hustle and bustle of London. She did miss it, though, in a funny sort of way!

The thought of running for the bus in the monotonous drizzle reminded Miranda that she had, as if deliberately, forgotten England. Life out here was so full she was never bored. She wanted to stay on. But how? Derek seemed such a distant and difficult proposition. He seemed to care so much for her when they were together; he demonstrated so much love and affection. But again she was musing on the old subject, the well-trodden ground. He did not want to commit. Was it because she was not rich? Was it because he had someone else in mind? Hannah, for instance? It was getting very tiresome. He was a difficult man. Why couldn’t it be easy, the normal way, the normal courtship. But no, it had to be so very frustrating. So very complicated.

“Penny for your thoughts,” said Dolly, creeping in and observing her. Miranda was miles away looking out into the garden. The big bay windows in the dining room were wide open and the long blue silk curtains were swaying slowly in the cool morning breeze. The windows would be closed soon to keep the midday sun out, and the room would be darkened, though it was autumn, it was still quite warm.

“Well?” Dolly persisted.

“No, Charu phoned. Wants to meet up tomorrow for lunch at the club.”

“You must go,” Dolly replied, putting down a bunch of flowers she was carrying in her arms.

“I’ll get the vase for you, Aunt.” Miranda stood up to go and fetch a flower vase to avoid her aunt’s probing and asking too many questions and of course putting two and two together.

Somehow the morning would pass and lunchtime would arrive. The afternoon was Miranda’s favorite time of day, the lazy afternoons after lunch, or tiffin as her Uncle Tom referred to the siesta, the occasional visits to the club in the evenings, and otherwise drinks at home before dinner.

A life of complete and utter luxury. Would she hate to leave all this? She would. From the time she had arrived she had not done a stroke of housework. Her clothes got mysteriously washed. The morning tea was brought into her room, after which she got ready for a round of golf. Occasionally the afternoon tea was served on the veranda, and after tea they washed up, changed into something comfortable, and had a few drinks before dinner. Not too early mind you, it was always served toward early evening when they could really enjoy the cool evening breeze. So now, after handing her aunt the cut-glass flower vase, Miranda excused herself and made a quick getaway. She headed for her room. The excuse was she was going for a cool bath before lunch.

The morning of the much-anticipated lunch with Charu arrived soon enough. Miranda woke up full of trepidation and anticipation. She was, in fact, looking forward to meeting Charu. What would she look like? What would she be wearing? Musing thus, she was taking her time to get ready. Thank God her uncle trusted her enough to drive the jeep out to the club, which Miranda had been driving for some time.

Derek had been standing very close to Charu when she telephoned Mira the day before and heard the whole conversation, albeit one-sided.

“Well?” he asked, in a very small voice, when Charu had replaced the receiver. “She is not coming, is she?”

“No, we are meeting at the club, in fact. Her idea,” added Charu as an afterthought.

Derek slumped into the armchair near the telephone and stared straight ahead.

“You will have to tell her, you know. You can’t carry on like this,” Charu muttered under her breath while leaning against the wall. She had a lovely slim figure that was accentuated by her figure-hugging jeans and mauve halter top. Her long black hair was held in a lose chignon at the base of her neck. She was staring at Derek with her large beautiful black eyes, the irises with a tinge of brown. Her eyes were accentuated by black eyeliner. She had on long, dangling amethyst earrings and wore no other jewelry or makeup.

“Well?” she repeated again, with a tinge of impatience in her voice. “What do you intend on doing?”