The Monsoon Rain (21 page)

She received a call from Hannah one day asking her to meet up for a coffee in the West End or maybe a lunch in Soho. They decided to meet at Leicester Square and walk to Soho for a Chinese lunch.

Mira could hardly wait to meet her new friend. It was so strange, she thought as she was waiting at Holborn for the Piccadilly line train, that out in India they were hardly friendly—they had become friends on her last day! Neither knew prior to the meeting that it would be Miranda’s last day in India. She jumped into the crowded compartment. There was standing room only. Getting off at Leicester Square, she made her way toward the square itself, where they had decided to meet in front of one of the cinema halls. Mira saw her first. Hannah looked very chic in her jeans. She had on a black overcoat and a red scarf around her neck. It was cold. Even though it was April, it was cold!

Hannah saw her then and waved. Kissing each other on the cheek they made their way toward Soho and Chinese food.

“How have you been?” they cried out in unison.

“I have a lot to tell you. You have to gossip sometime, you know,” Hannah said cheerily sounding happy. They both laughed.

“Tell me, tell me,” Mira replied, all agog. “Don’t hold anything back.”

“Let’s order lunch and a bottle of—shall we have red?” Hannah inquired. Mira nodded in agreement.

Lunch ordered, wine ordered, they sat back to have a good old chat. Hannah had most of the news as she had only recently returned from the East. Apparently Derek had stormed into the club a few days after Mira left and made a beeline for where Hannah was sitting with her sister-in-law and brother having a drink. He accused her of maligning his character and conniving to break up his liaison with Mira. He could hardly contain himself. He was drunk and foul-mouthed. He was even asked to leave the premises by the club secretary and he was banned from entering the clubhouse until such time they thought fit. Mira was appalled and thanked her lucky stars at such a narrow escape.

“There was no liaison, per se, Hannah,” Mira said in a very small voice. “There was nothing concrete between us. He did not commit, and it was fizzling out in a way. He did not own me, and it was not you who influenced me. It was my decision and mine alone. And I thank my lucky stars at such a narrow escape. You know something?” she continued, using her chopsticks to lift a bit of roast duck on her plate, “I don’t even miss him. I was slightly, no not slightly, quite a bit, in fact, fed up with the way things were going. I realized how fed up I was when I arrived back in England. I don’t know how I tolerated his behavior. Maybe I was in love. I was naïve and dazzled by his attention at the beginning. He was dashing and smart—what girl could resist him?”

“I couldn’t either,” Hannah replied, smiling.

“Anyway, he is his own worst enemy. It is simply not possible to go through life like that. He will have to come to terms with the innocent girl he abused—I’m assuming she was an innocent girl. Who knows? He must try and make amends. I wish I knew her. There is a very big skeleton in the cupboard, and the family is trying their utmost to cover it up. That is what is dogging our friend. He hesitates to come clean. He is, of course, ashamed of the past, and he tries so hard to forget his checkered past! Anyway, let us enjoy our meal, and let’s drink to us.” With that they raised their glasses.

“What about a cinema?” Miranda suggested.

It was very cold when they came out of the warm restaurant. It had also started to rain.

“April showers,” they both cried out in unison. They walked fast toward the cinema. The Tube station was nearby and they would not have to go far to catch the train back home.

Near Christmas Mira was asked to fill in for some of the nurses who were down with the flu. She was extremely busy. She had no time even for a coffee break. Being winter, the pavements were slippery, making it more hazardous for people and especially the elderly. She had so many broken bones to look after that when her shift ended she decided to sleep in the nurses’ quarters in one of her friend’s room who was on duty after her. It was when she went home the next afternoon that she was informed by Molly that Derek had suddenly turned up the evening before looking for Mira.

“Were you polite, Mum?” she inquired gingerly.

“Of course I was! What do you take me for?”

Derek wanted to know where Mira worked, but that information Molly would not give. Mira smiled to herself when she heard that. Good old Mum. Apparently he had taken their phone number and would be phoning Mira.

Molly did not look at all pleased. What did he want? Coming round, prowling. She pursed her lips and went about her own tasks even though she did not have much to do.

Mira was in the bath when Derek telephoned.

Molly answered the phone, and he asked her if Mira would she be so kind as to phone him.

“And please, Molly, would you please pass on the message?” He was practically pleading.

Mira at first hesitated, but curiosity got the better of her. The upshot of the entire conversation was that Derek wanted to meet up with her the next day if possible as he was on his way to Essex on an important errand. What errand? She could not probe as usual it was all very intriguing, impenetrable.

Derek’s life was a riddle, an unaccountable secret. She let it go. There was no use harping on the same subject.

She was most surprised at her own nonchalant behavior. The call did not disturb her. The gnawing feeling had faded with time. It had been more than a year since the last time she had laid eyes on Derek. Time healed, as they said.

He was surprised to see that she did not have any acrimonious feelings or any rancor toward him. She promised to meet him for tea at The Ritz in Piccadilly the next afternoon after her morning shift. After all, he had the money, so why not?

She arrived a little after four o’clock, as arranged. Derek was waiting for her in the foyer, facing the door. He saw her immediately as she entered the foyer leading to the dining area, where tea was usually served. He approached her with outstretched hands and a big grin. He looked thin, Mira thought, but as usual very handsome and debonair. He gave her a big hug and freeing one arm lifted her chin to kiss. Mira deftly avoided their lips touching and presented her cheek.

“Let’s sit down for a while.” Derek led the way to the plush armchairs arranged in a semicircle outside the dining room. Mira was busy admiring the décor, the various shapes of lights that adorned the entrance hall and the fabulous crystal chandelier that was hanging from the very high ceiling. It was all very expensive, plush, and rich. The bar was tucked in at the back of the entrance hall. It was full but not noisy. The men were all in ties and looked very smart.

Derek wanted to talk.

Miranda followed him and sat down in one of the very comfortable chairs away from the bar, somewhere less noisy. She was tired.

“Let me get you a drink.”

She nodded in assent and opted for gin and tonic; she could not think of anything fabulous to drink! Derek returned with a whisky and gin and tonic. It had already turned dark outside, and there was a slight drizzle, a typical London evening, cold and wet. Christmas was in the air, though, and everybody was in a festive mood.

After the usual preliminary pleasantries, Derek’s face took on a rather grim look.

“I want to talk to you, Mira,” he said in a steady voice. “There is so much to tell, I don’t know where to start!” He gave a bitter laugh, and she looked at him quizzically. Deciding not to say anything, she waited for him to resume the conversation. He took a sip of his whisky and settled back.

“I have a son,” he said.

She nodded in assent.

“You know?” He was surprised and sat up. “You knew when you left India?”

“Yes, Derek,” she replied in a very small voice. “I knew.”

“However, let me continue,” he said and started again. His voice was very low. Mira had to strain her ears to catch his every word.

“I had finished university and was at a loose end. I worked for my father in London for a couple of years, went round the world, etc., and then decided to head back to India for a while. Both my parents were at the garden at that time, and the idea was good. I had nothing to do, and a bit of fresh air, swimming, and tennis—it was all very tempting. Of course I had been to India many times, and I was especially fond of the garden life. So I made my way to India and the garden and was spending my time driving around in the jeep, the club, and practically doing nothing except for helping my father occasionally and trying to understand the intricacies of business. The only aspect of my life that improved was my tennis!” Here Derek stopped and looked toward the dining room.

“Let’s go and have our tea,” he said abruptly. “I am famished!” Finishing the remainder of his whisky in one gulp, he stood up and extended his hand to Mira. She was thankful for a little help, as she was finding it difficult to extricate herself from the very soft and low chair.

They headed toward the dining room for their exquisite afternoon English tea! The mâitre ď came and showed them to their table. The dining room was very bright, and someone was playing the piano.

“You play the piano, don’t you, Derek?”

He nodded.

Tea was heavenly, with various types of sandwiches, scones, and cakes. They had a choice of tea, and Mira opted for Assam tea,
which had just then come into fashion in London. Derek was slightly bemused at her choice but decided not to say anything. The conversation during tea was very limited, as she was very hungry, not having eaten since breakfast, which was very early before her morning shift. She’d had no lunch, with only a cup of tea as she dashed off to meet Derek at The Ritz. Derek seemed to peck at his food, eating very little but drinking a lot of tea. Mira could not care less. She was hungry, and the food was so tasty. After all, it was not every day that she was invited to The Ritz! Looking up, she found Derek watching her. He looked sort of happy and content.

“I am glad you decided to meet up, Mira,” he said. “You did not brush me off, though you had every right to refuse. I know I behaved like a cad, and I should have come clean with everything.” He continued a semi apologetic statement. Miranda looked down, silent.

“I know I took full advantage of her. She was our ayaha’s daughter, her mother was working for my mother. She had no rights.”

Mira at once sat up in her chair. “No rights?” She held her cup. “Whom did you take advantage of?”

“I meant those days. It was quite common then to have a liaison with a servant—all hush-hush, nobody knew anything. I wanted my fun, my cake. And it was an open secret that the planters used the women, often took them by force. All very disgusting.”

He was speaking in riddles. Miranda could not quite comprehend the flow of his talk.

“This is one of the reasons why the garden coolies became very disgruntled and started attacking the planters. However, let me continue.” He lifted his hand to stop her from saying anything.

Mira was confused. She stopped Derek in midsentence. “Please speak a bit more coherently. What are you trying to say, Derek?”

“OK, let me start from the beginning. Let me speak, please…don’t stop me. As I was saying, there was this girl, I took full advantage of her innocence and her lowly status, being the ayah’s daughter. I…yes, I know, I have to atone for my sins.”

Mira did not know what to say, and Derek was deep in thought.

Both had a lot to say, but the feelings were hidden in the deep recesses of their hearts and both found it very difficult to put into
words what each felt for the other. It was all very polite and civilized. Mira knew that she still loved him. Funny—she was still in love with him! He had spoiled her for others. Why? She could not tell. It was a mystery…

Derek was a little impatient and wanted to do away with tea as soon as possible. And it seemed he was relieved when tea was over at last and they could make their way toward the plush armchairs in the lobby once again. He wanted to go and get a drink first. Leaving Mira alone to toy with her own thoughts he made his way toward the bar. Mira felt that he needed some Dutch courage, and the drink was the courage, a prop. She could see Derek coming back toward her, drink in hand.

Giving her a small smile he sat down and took a swig. “So,” he started again, “you know when you left, I missed you a lot. One day soon after your departure I went back to the bungalow, and an eerie silence greeted me.” He took another swig of his drink. “I don’t know why it bothered me so much that day. So many times, for so long, I had been there on my own, but nothing like that had ever happened.” He looked down into the tumbler. “I suppose good sense prevailed. I wanted to make a clean breast of things, so here I am.” He stretched his arms out, holding his drink in one hand.

“I was in India having a whale of a time with plenty of time on my hands, with practically nothing to do. How much tennis can you play? Or for that matter how much can one swim? Now we come to the interesting bit.” Derek went on in his hushed voice.

He was bored—and young. His hormones were running wild. There was this ayah working in their house, a widow who had been working for his mother for a long time. She had a daughter who as far as Derek remembered from his previous visits was a little girl in a frock who used to run in and out of the house, playful, jolly, climbing trees, the apple of her mother’s eye, a sweet, mischievous little girl.

This time when he saw her she had changed. She was a young woman, though she was only sixteen. She had blossomed into a very pretty girl, and instead of frocks she was wearing saris. She was not running around anymore; she was very demure in her behavior and was hardly seen in the house. She mostly stayed in her quarters.
Derek was very surprised at this transformation, not realizing that some three to four years had passed since he’d last seen her. He started lurking around the servants’ quarters and started to visit her. One thing led to another, and they became lovers.

He still remembered the first day he’d made love to her. He had gone as usual to see her. He was drunk with desire and want. He kissed her hard. She at first resisted but had to give in. After all, he was the son of her mother’s employer. He was the chota sahib. This went on for some time. He used to sneak into the tiny tin house and make love to the innocent girl; he had an insatiable hunger for sex. He was young, and the forbidden fruit was there for the plucking.