A Sahib's Daughter (20 page)

“But she wouldn’t have come with you if she didn’t want to,” Samira said. “You picked her to accompany you on your big adventure. And if she loved you more than you loved her, then she was the lucky one. She got to be with the person she loved. If you didn’t love her back the same way, it was your loss. She was the one experiencing the love.”

“I never thought of it like that before,” said Justin. “I just felt guilty that I wasn’t more in love with her sooner, no matter how much I admired and appreciated her.”

“How many women get to be admired and appreciated by their husbands?” asked Samira.

“Thank you, Sammy.” Justin took her hand and held it. “I didn’t intend to open up to you like this today. And the fact that I did was probably because I sensed you’d understand.”

He couldn’t confess that the attraction he’d felt on meeting her in the library was confirmation that at last he could move on. Or that he had fallen overwhelmingly in love with her, in a way that, despite everything, he never had with Lorraine.

During dinner, Justin and Charles exchanged anecdotes about their lives in Northern Ireland and Hertfordshire, and about how they ended up in tea. Samira was always fascinated by stories of her father’s life in England, as he was so disinclined to discuss his early days.

“And how about you, Ramona?” Justin asked. “I’d love to know more about your past.”

Ramona told him about her mother, Prava, about her father who’d died and how she’d grown up in Kalimpong. She told him about teaching at St. Jude’s, the boarding school where she later sent Samira and Mark.

“And now my mother lives very happily in her little cottage in Darjeeling,” she concluded, “where we can visit her very often.”

“That’s somewhere I’ve always wanted to go,” Justin said. “In Assam, we used to visit Shillong, a wonderful place to retreat to during the summer.”

“Darjeeling used to be a sanatorium for soldiers who needed to recuperate from various illnesses,” said Samira. “It also became an escape for officers’ wives who couldn’t endure the heat of Calcutta. The site where Darjeeling now stands was originally purchased by a Lord Bentick from the Maharaja of Sikkim.”

“Fascinating. I’ll definitely go there very soon,” said Justin. “And this chocolate soufflé is delicious. You have a great cook.”

“You can thank Sammy for that,” said Charles. “It’s her specialty.”

Samira found herself liking Justin more and more. She went to her room after he left and read in bed all night, trying not to admit to herself that she was already regretting the events of the night before.

She moped around the house after breakfast the next day. While Ramona didn’t know the full story, she suspected that Ravi was behind her daughter’s dejection. She had discussed the issue with Charles the night before, wondering if it might cheer Sammy up to escape to Darjeeling for a few days. Charles was only too willing to agree to anything his wife suggested.

“I had an idea last night while we were speaking to Justin,” she said to Samira over lunch. “Your grandmother isn’t doing too well with her diabetes, and your father and I wondered if you would like to go and spend a few days with her. I’d go except we have the superintendent arriving next week, and I have to be here to entertain him. It might be a good time for you to get away, too. Not that we want to get rid of you.”

She and Charles looked at Samira to gauge her reaction.

Samira’s initial response was that she didn’t want to leave because of Ravi. Then suddenly, she thought that maybe she did and that it was a great idea for her to get away at this time. She realized that she’d underestimated her mother’s perceptiveness, offering a solution to her predicament without even alluding to it.

“I’m happy to go if Gran needs me,” she said. “I’d love to visit her, and it would be a relief to get away from this heat.”

“Then it’s settled,” said Charles. “I’ll book a taxi, if that’s okay, darling. We don’t want poor Kala to have to make two separate trips.”

“Of course,” said Samira. “I understand.”

The phone rang. Jetha said it was Justin Sahib.

“It must be for you,” Ramona said to Samira. “Would you answer?”

“No, I think he must want Dad. Please, Mum,” she begged. “He didn’t ask for me.”

Her confidence in herself had totally eroded. Men didn’t call her any more these days.

“I’ll go,” said Ramona, jumping up and going into the drawing room.

She returned a few minutes later looking pleased.

“He called to thank us for dinner. Such a polite man! Anyway, I told him that you’re going to visit your grandmother. He said that as he was planning to go to Darjeeling soon and would be happy to drive you there. Isn’t that nice of him? He’ll stay at the club, of course.”

Samira tried to digest the implications of what her mother was saying. Was Justin’s phone call mere coincidence, or had her mother hatched the whole plot in an effort to bring them together?

“I promise it was not my idea,” she said, as though reading Samira’s mind. “Though it would have been a rather good one.”

Samira laughed. She had to admit she liked Justin, and going to Darjeeling together would be fun. It was a whole lot better than travelling in an old taxi.

“I have to say you are the most interfering, maddening mother I’ve ever known!”

Ramona smiled mischievously, and they looked across the table at each other, closer than they’d been in a long time.

Chapter 17

Darjeeling, 1978

“What a stupendous view!” said Justin. They had pulled into a viewpoint off the road to Darjeeling for a rest and a cup of coffee. In the distance, six-thousand feet beneath them, the purple plain shimmered. The ravines and crevasses below were smothered by a low-creeping fog, though the sky above them was blue and clear.

“Wait till you see the snow-capped Kanchenjunga Mountains,” Samira said, pleased at his response. “You can see them from the Dooars on a clear day, but they’re considerably closer from Darjeeling, providing they’re not obscured by clouds, of course. Sometimes, you can’t see them for days on end, especially now during the monsoon.”

“You were educated in Darjeeling, weren’t you?” he asked. “Did you like it?”

“I did eventually as I got older. Father didn’t see any point in sending us all the way to England to be educated.”

“Isn’t it strange,” she continued, “How when we look up at the mountains from the plains, they appear purple and when we look down, the plains are purple, too? I wonder why that is?”

“It’s one of life’s mysteries,” laughed Justin. “Do you know what you remind me of?”

“No. What?” she asked, in pleasant anticipation.

“You’re like a D.H. Lawrence heroine, full of questions and perplexities, if that’s even a word.”

“I love Lawrence,” said Samira. “I’ve read all his books.”

“What, even
Lady Chatterley’s Lover
?” he teased.

“No, not that one,” said Samira, blushing, “but only because I haven’t been able to get hold of a copy.”

They were soon on the approach to Darjeeling. The weather stayed clear, but to Samira’s disappointment, clouds had built up over the Kanchenjunga Range. They drove past rosy-cheeked, slit-eyed children, who called and waved to them, playing on the roadsides with homemade go-karts and metal hoops. The town was spread over two mountaintops with palaces crowned with blue domes built on each one of them. Most of the buildings were constructed in colonial-style, gray stone. The town was inhabited predominantly by hill people, Nepalese and Tibetans. The Nepalese were short and wiry with slanted eyes and smiling faces. By comparison, the Tibetans were tall, powerful and solemn.

There was a nip in the air, a respite from the heat of the plains. Already Samira felt better. She had barely given Ravi a thought all day. Justin asked if she would join him for lunch before he took her to her grandmother’s house. Samira accepted, unsure whether Prava would have a meal ready. She didn’t have a telephone, but Ramona had sent her a message via one of the neighbors to let her know that Samira would be arriving.

Prava was sunning herself on her verandah when they arrived. Her graying hair was plaited into a long braid that was rolled up into a bun on the nape of her neck. She was gaunt, her face creased from years of exposure to the sun. She had long ago professed to having lost interest in her appearance, claiming not to have time for such trivial things.

“Welcome, Justin! Samira, my girl, how thin you look. Come, come. Make yourselves at home. My, what a handsome man! As you can see, my house is so small. Let me make you some tea.” She was happy to have company.

“Why don’t we take you out for some tea later on?” asked Justin solicitously, thinking that she might appreciate an outing, which, of course, she did.

“I’m going to freshen up. Why don’t you change into something warmer, Gran?” suggested Samira, noticing that Prava was wearing a cardigan with holes at the elbows. Her clothes were a source of mortification to the family. When buttons went missing, she never replaced them, using huge safety pins instead. Sometimes, to Ramona’s extreme embarrassment, she would appear in a pair of Charles’ old socks she had sworn that she would only wear in bed at night. Her drawers were stuffed full of clothes given to her by Ramona, English lamb’s wool sweaters, cashmere shawls and woolen socks that she said she was saving for special occasions. Ramona always would exclaim,

“But today is special! We are here. Look how we dressed for you!”

Today, she gave in by putting on a decent sweater and a cashmere shawl for Justin’s benefit. She enjoyed the drive in his car, which was a rare experience for her, and strolling up Chowrasta for tea and cakes at Glenarys.

“So, you’re from Northern Ireland,” she said, sipping her tea. “That’s close to Scotland, no? I once had a good friend from Scotland.”

“Really, Gran? Who was it? I didn’t know you had a Scottish friend.”

“My poor girl, you think you know everything about your old grandmother. You must allow me a few secrets.” She fluttered her eyelashes at Justin, flirting with him and spilling cake crumbs over herself.

“Put this in a box,” she instructed the waiter in Nepalese, giving him her half-eaten macaroon. “Are you going to eat that, Sammy?”

“No, Gran. You can have it.” Samira was mortified. “But why don’t we go into the bakery and buy some cakes and patties to take home?”

Prava’s miserliness was legendary. Although she never quite starved herself, she deprived herself of good things to eat to such an extent that when she did eat well, her weakened digestion would cause her to suffer. She saved scraps for her next meal that most people would have thrown away.

“If you insist on eating stale food, you must expect to be ill,” Ramona would scold her. But Prava couldn’t help herself. She was so much in the habit of thrift it was painful for her to waste anything. A penny saved was a personal triumph she derived more pleasure from than she did from spending it.

“Wasting money!” grumbled Prava now, nevertheless allowing Justin to escort her into the bakery. They picked out an assortment of cakes and patties. Justin insisted on paying for them. The shop assistant remembered Samira and raised her eyebrows appreciatively over Justin.

“Your husband?” she asked, to Samira’s extreme embarrassment.

“Come on, Josie. I just left college a year ago. Justin is a friend of mine.”

“Sorry, madam,” Josie said, not wanting to overstep the mark. “It’s good to see you again!”

Samira was cross. Why did everyone want to marry her off? As if that was a woman’s only goal. After seeing Prava into the house, Samira walked outside with Justin, and he asked if she would like to have dinner with him that night.

“I’d love you to come,” he said, but she demurred on account of her grandmother. “I understand. How about a walk in the morning?”

“That would be lovely,” said Samira, thinking how nice it was to be pursued for a change.

“All right, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He bent down and kissed her cheek.

Samira ran into the house to find her grandmother.

“So, you have a new boyfriend already?” Prava said. “What happened to the other boyfriend, the Punjabi? Your mother kept that very quiet. Always trying to keep things from me! But you can’t fool me. As soon as I saw the way Justin looked at you, I knew-romance!”