An Enormously English Monsoon Wedding (23 page)

‘Oh, good. I’m not interrupting then. And is Jay here? There was no sign of him when I got up.’

‘Sorry. He’s been called out.’

‘
Again?
’ Nalisha frowned. ‘On a Sunday?’

‘Animals, like humans, can’t actually plan their illnesses and accidents to fit into a five-day week.’

‘No.’ Nalisha shrugged. ‘I suppose they can’t. Honestly, I had no idea Jay was so busy. When do you two ever see one another?’

‘We manage,’ Erin said quickly. ‘We’re used to it now. It’s part of our life.’

They stood in silence for a few seconds. The sun beat down relentlessly. Erin realised that Nalisha was going nowhere. She opened the gate.

‘Come in, please. Grab a seat – there’s a table and chairs under the trees. Can I get you a drink? Or something to eat?’

‘No food, thank you, but a drink would be lovely. Oh, what a perfect garden.’ Nalisha sank on to a chair, looking like some glorious exotic flower blooming incongruously in an English meadow.

Florence, being a complete traitor, immediately emerged from the herbaceous border, entwined herself round Nalisha’s legs, then jumped onto her lap.

‘Oh, sorry – that’s Florence,’ Erin said quickly, remembering that whatever Nalisha had said to Bella, she really didn’t like animals. ‘Just shove her off.’

‘She’s OK at the moment.’ Nalisha was tentatively tickling Florence under her chin and being rewarded by a lot of head-butting and purring.

Sighing at the treachery
of women and cats, Erin headed irritably for the kitchen.

An hour later, they were still there, sitting round the table under the shade of the lilac trees, drenched in the garden’s heavy drowsy scent, halfway down their second jug of iced orange juice.

They’d discussed the purchase and rehoming of the Indian statues, and Nalisha had talked endlessly about her plans for Bollywood dance sessions. Erin, wishing Nalisha would spontaneously combust, had somehow mentioned the
mandap
, and Nalisha had sympathised but agreed that very few people ever bested Deena, and that she was sure they’d find a use for the
mandap
somewhere, and then they’d discussed Erin’s small and scattered family, and Kam.

And then they moved on to Jay.

The previous revelations had clearly merely skimmed the surface.

Erin now knew everything
there ever was to know about Jay’s childhood, his teenage years and his subsequent growing up. All the gaps had been neatly filled in by Nalisha. Erin had learned about girlfriends he’d never mentioned; about holidays he’d taken with Nalisha – and other friends, too, but it was only the fact that Nalisha had been there that stuck; about his madly extended family – ‘we all become honorary cousins or aunts or uncles, it makes it so much fun when we all get together at parties’; and about how totally, totally wonderful Deena and Tavish were. Again.

It all simply served to reinforce Erin’s ever-growing anxieties and insecurities. Nalisha knew more about Jay than she did. Far, far more …

Erin also now knew more about Nalisha being a corporate lawyer than she’d ever thought possible. And about living in California. And about dozens of other marvellous and amazing things Nalisha seemed to have managed to cram into her life.

None of it helped lift Erin’s plummeting self-esteem one little bit.

In fact, by now completely demoralised – well, there honestly wasn’t much mileage in her three average A levels, several very average office jobs before the Old Curiosity Shop, several very average youthful love affairs, and a very average life in the village until Jay arrived in it, was there? – Erin sighed heavily and wished yet again that Nalisha had never, ever set foot in Nook Green.

‘But you’re the lucky one.’ Nalisha stretched lazily. ‘You live in this fabulous place, you have a great life, no one has ever pressurised you to do something you don’t want to do, you’ve stayed true to yourself, you’re only three weeks away from your fabulous wedding, and, most importantly, you and Jay are marrying because you love one another. You have a wonderful future to look forward to. Together.’

‘Yes, well, put like
that, it does sound pretty good. And I’ve always been happy with my life. But what about you? Don’t you have a boyfriend? A partner? I mean, you must. I mean, look at you …’

‘There have been one or two,’ Nalisha laughed. ‘But no one who ever made me want to give up my singledom. Some of them were even of my own choosing.’

Erin frowned. ‘You mean your parents suggested suitable men for you? Set up introductions? Blimey, I thought that all went out ages ago.’

‘You’d be surprised. Indian parents can be very persuasive. And, of course, as soon as we were old enough, my parents always wanted me to marry Jay.’

Ouch!

Erin felt the whole happy foundation of her world start to slide away. She sucked in some warm, sticky air. ‘Really? Um, I thought you were just good friends.’

‘We were. Are. But to my parents – and to Jay’s – that’s the perfect basis for a marriage. Even now. I know it sounds archaic, but if families can marry off their children to the children of their friends, they’re generally ecstatic.’

Oh. My. God.

‘And you?’ Erin had to know. ‘Did you feel that he was – or could be – more than a friend? Did you want to marry him?’

Nalisha swirled melting ice cubes in her orange juice. ‘If he’d asked me I’d have said yes.’

Erin swallowed. There was a roaring in her ears. This really wasn’t supposed to be happening.

‘Because you loved him?’

‘Yes.’

Feeling sick, Erin exhaled. Get
a grip, she told herself. Jay is marrying
you
. You! Jay could have asked Nalisha to marry him at any time, couldn’t he?

And if he had …

Oh … Erin sighed. How happy everyone would have been with that, wouldn’t they?

Jay and Nalisha: the perfect beautiful Indian couple.

And they’d have been married in a temple, and embraced all the millions of poojas and weeks of parties, and they’d have definitely had the biggest damn
mandap
in the entire world, wouldn’t they?

And probably white horses and painted elephants and a million Bollywood dancing girls and strutting peacocks and all the other Indian trimmings.

Jay and Nalisha would have had the perfect full-on Hindu marriage.

And there’d have been no mention of
fusion
at all.

And everyone in Jay’s family would have been sublimely happy.

So, did that mean that Nalisha was still in love with Jay? And had Jay ever loved Nalisha?

And, oh blimey … had they ever been
lovers
?

Erin closed her eyes. What on earth was happening to her lovely, happy, secure life? Suddenly everything was being turned upside down. It was only three weeks to her wedding. The wedding that only a short time ago was so organised and planned and perfect.

Now the poojas
and Deena’s interference and even the
mandap
seemed pretty unimportant.

Erin stood up quickly. She simply couldn’t sit there with Nalisha and imagine her and Jay
together
. She just couldn’t.

‘Um, excuse me … I need the loo, and I’m just going to grab my phone. Er, Jay might have finished the op early and left a message, and, um …’

Once back in the cool
of the kitchen, Erin leaned her hands on the work surface and counted to ten.

It was OK. It
was
OK. Even if Nalisha loved Jay, it didn’t mean Jay loved Nalisha, did it? Or ever had. Did it?

Erin grabbed her phone. Her fingers shook as she texted: ‘Hope all going ok. I’m at home. Need you. Love you. Always. E xxx’.

Then she pressed send.

‘You OK?’ Doug drifted into the kitchen and peered at her. ‘I must’ve overslept.’

She nodded. ‘Mmm. I’m fine. Just texting Jay. Forget the note, we didn’t go – he had a call-out.’

‘Right. And you don’t look OK. You look very pretty and done-up, but you look sort of … worried.’ Doug sloshed water in the kettle and winced at the noise. ‘Ooh, that hurts.’

‘Not surprised. And I need to tell you something.’

‘Oh, God, did I do something disgusting last night? It didn’t involve Gina, did it?’

‘No and no. I’ve got to talk to some before I go mad. Listen …’

And she told him all about Nalisha. Everything. It had taken some time as Uncle Doug kept interrupting and asking questions.

‘So.’ he sipped his coffee and frowned. ‘After all that, she’s still here now, in the garden?’

‘Exactly.’

‘OK, but honestly, Erin, love, you haven’t got any need to worry. Even if she is one of his exes, he’s marrying you. He adores you. And she isn’t here to split you up, is she?’

‘No, of course not. Well, I don’t think so, but she’s so bloody devious, I’m not sure about anything any more.’

‘Then have a bit more self-confidence, love. We all have pasts to deal with. Jay’s bound to have
had lovers before he met you, isn’t he? But they’re not the ones he’s marrying, are they?’

‘No, but she’s so gorgeous. How can he prefer me to her?’

‘Because he does. And you’re gorgeous too. Oh, Erin, love, don’t let doubts creep in and spoil the last few weeks before your wedding. This should be the best time of your life. You’ve got enough going on with Deena, without getting screwed up over Nalisha – who I’ve always thought was lovely, by the way.’

‘I know. Everyone thinks she’s lovely, but she’s a cow. Trust me. I know. And now I just think it’s karma. I was so bloody sure that our wedding was going to go smoothly, no hitches, no problems …’

‘And it will.’

‘Will it?’

‘Of course it will. Jay didn’t even ask Nalisha to marry him, did he? He asked you. Because he loves you. You. Not her.’

Erin hugged him. ‘I know, but I just feel so, well, jealous when she talks about all the stuff they’ve shared.’

‘Shared. Past tense. She’s his past. You’re Jay’s present and future.’

Erin blinked. ‘Wow, you’re actually quite perceptive, aren’t you? Even with a hangover. Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome. Oooh … Actually, I still feel pretty crap. Have you opened up yet?’

‘No. It’s Sunday. That’s your job. And you do look totally awful.’

‘Ta. Well, I’m going to go and say good morning to Nalisha and nurse my hangover in the garden and hope the black coffee works quickly. Then I’ll open up the shop. While you –’ he looked sternly at Erin ‘– stop looking like the sky’s just fallen in and remember that
neither Nalisha, nor Deena, nor anyone else can spoil your happiness, unless you let them. OK?’

‘OK. Ooh, there’s my phone. Please let it be Jay.’ Quickly, Erin grabbed it and checked her messages. ‘Oh shit. The operation is still on-going, and he doesn’t know when he’ll be home.’

Doug shrugged. ‘Sorry, love. Look, you let me deal with Nalisha. I’ll take her on a guided tour of the shop or something. Maybe suggest a spot of lunch somewhere? I’m sure you can find millions of things to do, can’t you?’

‘Oh yeah,’ Erin sighed. ‘Millions.’

And, feeling about as awful as it was possible to get, she slowly trudged upstairs to start tidying her knicker drawer.

On Monday morning, Erin ran her hands
over the writing desk. It was silky smooth and the intricate inlay shone from years of loving attention with beeswax. It would look wonderful in the Old Curiosity Shop, and would also be an ideal piece to photograph and display on their website.

It would, she was sure, be snapped up very quickly.

‘Are you happy with the price?’ She smiled at the elderly owner of the desk. ‘And you’re absolutely sure you want to sell it?’

Sod it. She groaned inwardly. Why had she said that? Why did she always say that? Uncle Doug was right, she was probably far too soft-hearted to be a serious negotiator.

‘Too right I do, my dear. I’m off to sheltered housing. Lovely little flatlet I’m going to have, with a nice pocket-sized garden and a communal social room and a warden on tap. Can’t wait. I’ve given my children first dibs of the furniture I didn’t want to take, but none of them could find a home for this old desk. Too big and old-fashioned for them. So, yes, the
price is just right.’

‘Lovely,’ Erin said, relieved. ‘And I hope you’ll be very happy in your new home. Now if we could just do the paperwork, and I’ll arrange for Mr Boswell to come and collect the desk with his van when it’s convenient for you. Shall I ask him to ring you to fix a time?’

‘Yes, that would be grand. Any time in the next couple of days, my dear. I’m not moving out ’til Thursday.’

‘And it’s Monday today, so that gives us plenty of time. That’s fine then. So, if you’d just like to sign here, and I’ll sort out the money, and we’re all happy, aren’t we?’

Deal done, Erin stepped outside into yet another scorching cloudless blue and gold morning. The little semicircle of honey-coloured houses in the pretty village of Daisy Bank shimmered. Erin hoped that the desk’s owner would have an equally lovely vista in his new home.

She thought, as she eased herself into the small oven that was her hatchback, that this morning’s deal had been a particularly pleasant one. No tears, no sob stories and, most importantly, no spiders. If only all deals could go so smoothly, with such a happy conclusion.

Yay!

Then again, she thought, as she eased the car along Daisy Bank’s narrow lanes and headed towards the Nook Green road, she deserved something pleasant after the weekend from hell, didn’t she?

If she’d thought
mandap
Saturday had been bad, then Sunday had been truly awful. OK, Doug had mercifully kept Nalisha out of the way, but he really needn’t have bothered. Jay hadn’t returned until nearly midnight and had just sent a ‘Sorry. Love You. Goodnight. xxx’ text.

And she had the tidiest knicker
drawer in Berkshire.

Anyway, she thought now, as she parked outside the Old Curiosity Shop and scrambled from the car, things – as Tony Blair had once rather foolishly said – could only get better. Surely?

‘Erin!’

She turned. And laughed.

Jay was standing in the shadowy gap between the shop and the cottage.