The Seven Steps to Closure (24 page)

‘Four thousand dollars,’ I gasped to Matt, after having converted the asking price for a small silk rug to Australian dollars.

‘This place is really expensive,’ he said, ‘tomorrow we’ll find a cheaper one.’

To get to Humaryun’s Tomb we walked through a manicured garden full of canoodling, Indian couples. The ladies – carefully coiffured in brightly coloured silks – looked like exotic birds amongst the foliage.

‘Oh excuse me,’ I said as I rounded a corner and ran into a couple in the middle of a particularly arduous cuddle. She smiled shyly – her kohl lined eyes standing out like beautiful jewels, and ducked her blushing face behind her beau. I could hear Matt chuckling and shot him a venomous look.

‘Sorry,’ he apologised, ‘but that was really funny.’

Finally, we reached the tombs and stopped to admire them from afar. They were obviously shadows of their former glory, but I found a rugged beauty in their decaying surfaces.

‘The
Lonely Planet
said that elements of the design of this building were refined over the years to eventually create the magnificence of Agra’s Taj Mahal,’ I informed Matt, who was busy taking photos. ‘A squat building with high arched entrances, topped by a bulbous dome,’ I read as we moved to a better position for his camera.

‘They must have been spectacular when they were new,’ he answered, looking at the position of the sun in relation to the tombs.

The exposed stonework was wondrous in its variety of colours and shapes, but if you looked closely, you could see the remnants of what used to cover the stonework; patches of shiny, peacock brilliant blues and greens.

‘It must have been magnificent,’ I agreed.

Moving closer to the building, the fine detail became evident. Carved writing cascaded over the arches of the doorways and wound around the windows. We wandered through the buildings taking photos and admiring the changing colours of the stones in the setting sun.

‘I like this much better than The Red Fort,’ I said to Matt.

‘It was kind of hectic wasn’t it, this is much more peaceful.’

Later that evening, after we had eaten, we sat in our room and wrote. Matt downloaded photos, and tapped away at his laptop while I started to compose what I like to think of as ‘The Indian Postcard Collection’.

Dear Dinah and Gloria,

I hope Bad Bunny is behaving himself and not shagging too many of your fluffy toys. This morning we arrived in Delhi. And when I say we, I don’t mean Jessie and I. I mean Matt, my one-nightstand guy, and I. Stop squealing – I can hear you all the way over here. Today we went to The Red Fort, impressively massive but slightly boring, and Humaryan’s Tomb, which was awe inspiring. Believe it or not I’ve only just realised that…. (to be cont. on Nat’s postcard.)

Dear Nat and Ricardo,

(Cont. from Dinah and Gloria’s card). ……I will be going to see the Taj Mahal. I know sometimes I’m a bit of a thicky, but when Matt said we would be going to Agra I just thought it was another town, NOT the home of the Taj Mahal. I always thought that it was in Mumbai, didn’t you? Who would think it was a 2-hour plane ride, and then a 2-hour train ride from Mumbai. Hmm that was confusing. It’s two hours to Delhi by plane from Mumbai and then 2 hours by train to…… (to be cont. on Elaine’s card.)

Dear Elaine,

(Cont. from Nat and Ricardo’s card) ….Agra from Delhi. Tomorrow we are seeing another temple and a garden and will be doing some shopping. Apparently the night markets near where we are staying are fantastic. Hey Elaine just in case you haven’t read Dinah and Gloria’s card yet, Guess what? I’m travelling India with my yummy one nightstand guy. Who would have seen that coming? That dart thing really worked! Hope you are all well and that your Doctor is being a good boy, or a bad boy, whichever you prefer. Love you, miss you, and wish you were all here. Xxxxx

I made sure I hid these postcards in my bag before I started on the one to Mum and Dad.

Dear Mum and Dad,

Well, as I said in my email I have decided to travel up through Rajasthan rather than come home. One of Jessie’s good friends, who is a likeable and very polite sort of fellow, has offered to take me travelling with him while he writes an article for ‘Travel Abroad’. We arrived in Delhi today and did some sightseeing. Tomorrow we will be doing some more things in Delhi, I am hoping to buy something nice to remember my time here. Then on Monday we are off to Agra to see the Taj Mahal. I’m really excited about that. We will be catching a train, which Matt informs me is quite an experience in itself. Love you both. Xxxx

Matt was still typing rapidly, so rather than disturb him by using the phone I snuck down to the front desk and asked them to send up a couple of Marsala teas. They told me it would be about twenty minutes as they had a high level of room service orders, so I had a shower and washed my hair while I waited.

‘Likeable and very polite sort of fellow?’ Matt asked me as I exited the bathroom.

‘Hey, no peeking,’ I said, grabbing the card from him. I took the other cards out of my bag and placed a rubber band around the bundle – making sure the card for Mum and Dad was on top.

Shit,
I thought.
Thank God I hid the others.
I’d have to be more careful in the future.

‘Sorry,’ he said laughing. ‘I saw it out of the corner of my eye. I’ve never been described like that before.’

Clutching my confidence around me I said, ‘Well, I couldn’t very well tell her that you were an extremely gorgeous and yummy bachelor whom I once shagged in Sydney now could I? She’d have been on the next plane over.’

‘What to protect you?’ he asked laughing.

‘No, to make sure I don’t make a fool of myself and scare you away. You know I’m over thirty now. I’ve got a better chance of being killed in a terrorist attack than meeting an available man.’ I stopped as I realised what I had just said. ‘Hey, I almost did that,’ I said.

There was a knock at the door.

‘I hope you don’t mind,’ I said to Matt, who was standing there smiling and shaking his head at me, ‘I got us some tea.’

‘Marsala?’

‘Of course.’

‘You’re a mind reader.’

After the porter had left we relaxed on our prospective beds sipping our tea.

‘How’s the writing going?’ I asked.

‘Good. Not really much to write about yet. I’m roughing in a storyline, trying to get a unique angle.’

‘I can imagine that would be difficult. I mean this must be one of the most written about places in the world.’

‘Yeah, one of them.’

‘So what’s your angle?’ I asked curiously.

‘Haven’t got one yet, but it will come to me – it always does.’

I let out a huge yawn.

‘Have I been keeping you up?’ he asked, looking at his watch.

‘No, it’s only 9pm. Anyway I told you I could compete for Australia in sleeping. If I get tired I’ll just go to sleep.’

‘With the lights on?’

‘With the lights on, so don’t worry about me. You do what you need to do.’

‘I’m finished for the night anyway.’ He also let out a huge yawn.

‘It must be all that fresh air making us tired,’ I said laughing.

‘Either that or coating our lungs, depriving us of oxygen and making us sleepy,’ he said smiling.

‘More likely that,’ I agreed.

Grabbing my toothbrush and bottle of water I headed for the bathroom. I was determined not to go getting any Delhi Belly in front of Matt. God, can you imagine?

I jumped into bed while I heard Matt in the shower and tried unsuccessfully not to think about his long, tanned, lean body with water cascading down it. I was a bit jumpy by the time he came out of the bathroom and all of a sudden realised we were sleeping in the same room. Well of course it wasn’t the first time I realised it, but the full importance of it hit me. What if I snored? What if I talked in my sleep? Or worse, what if I farted? The myriad of ways in which I could cause extreme embarrassment to myself without even knowing it were endless. I thought I would lie awake the whole night – but one minute I was lying there staring at the ceiling, and the next I was waking to light streaming in the window and the sound of Matt back in the shower. It was a little disorientating. I closed my eyes and was quickly sound asleep once again.

* * *

‘Tara, Tara.’

I could hear my name being called and dimly feel someone shaking me. I clawed my way upwards towards consciousness and opened my bleary eyes.

‘Wow,’ said a familiar voice, ‘you really could sleep for Australia.’

‘Matt?’

‘The one and only.’

‘Is that coffee I smell? Cause, I’m only opening my eyes if there’s coffee.’

‘Open your eyes sleepy head. I have coffee and some fruit and pastries.’

‘Oh goody.’ I opened my eyes and sat bolt upright in bed.

Matt had obviously been up for a while. I helped myself to my coffee and a pastry.

‘First,’ he said, ‘I was trying to be really quiet, tiptoeing around and everything. And then I accidentally let the bathroom door slam and I thought that would wake you for sure.’

‘It would have to be something more substantial than a door slamming,’ I said around a mouthful of pastry.

‘Yeah I figured. So then, I started trying to wake you – talking loudly on my phone, opening the cupboard doors and closing them hard. Man you didn’t even flinch.’

‘What time is it?’ I asked him, concerned I’d slept through the day.

’9am.’

‘Oh thank God. I thought it might be midday or something like that.’

‘You had twelve hours sleep. ‘

‘I’ll be right for the night markets tonight. Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll be ready to go,’ I told him as I headed to the bathroom with my coffee.

True to my word fifteen minutes later, I was dressed and ready to rock and roll.

‘When you said fifteen minutes, I was thinking more like an hour,’ said Matt.

‘Yeah I’ve never understood what takes some women so long to get ready,’ I said as we headed out the door. ‘I mean really, shower, dry, moisturise, deodorise, put your clothes on, brush your teeth and comb your hair. How long can you make that last? Admittedly,’ I said, ‘I don’t look as good as the women who take an hour to get ready, but seriously I wouldn’t want to. If I had to spend an hour getting ready every time I went somewhere, I wouldn’t bother leaving the house. I mean for a special occasion or a date, well of course you want to look your best. But day-to-day, all you need is a whip of lipstick and some eyeliner. Then again, Jake used to complain that I didn’t spend enough time on myself. He said it looked like I didn’t care about him if I went out without a full face of makeup. I never really understood the logic behind that.’

‘Yeah, but we established yesterday that Jake is a complete ass.’

‘Yes we did, didn’t we?’ I laughed. ‘I have to admit, the makeup thing was a relief when we broke up. I didn’t wear makeup at all for about 9 months. But that was probably because I was too depressed.’

‘Wow,’ said Matt laughing, ‘you’re like a wind up doll in the morning. I woke you up and you haven’t stopped talking since.’

‘Hey. That’s not true. I wasn’t talking while I cleaned my teeth.’

‘Actually,’ he said, ‘you were. It was pretty disgusting.’

‘Was I? I’m not normally like this in the morning.’

‘Really?’

‘No. I don’t normally start talking till about ten-thirty. Up to then I just grunt and nod. I wonder how much caffeine was in that coffee.’

‘Obviously a lot.’

Matt pulled over a tuk tuk driver and started chatting to him. After a few minutes, he gestured for me to jump in and introduced me.

‘This is Fahad. Fahad this is Tara. Tara and I have been married for a couple of years Fahad so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t try to hit on her.’

Fahad let out a loud, deep chuckle. He turned around to look at me and I realised he sounded and looked like an Indian version of Fat Albert.

‘No worries Mr Matt,’ he boomed. ‘I look after your wife like she was one of my sisters.’ He hit the accelerator pedal and we shot off into the traffic.

‘Would you mind telling me what that was all about?’ I stage whispered to Matt out of the corner of my mouth.

‘Some of these men can be a little frisky with their hands, just making sure.’

‘What about the man that drove us around yesterday?

‘Well, if you noticed he wasn’t very friendly. I could make you my sister next time if you prefer?’

Damn. He had check mated me, and I bet he knew it. I was pretty chuffed at the thought of pretending to be his wife, I certainly didn’t want to be downgraded to a sister. But then if I admitted that to him I was pretty much telling him that I fancied him. Let’s face it though, I would have to be a deaf, dumb, blind, mute with no sense of smell, and no imagination to not fancy him. But did he know that? Did he realise just how desirable he was? I was guessing the answer to that was no.

All of that flitted through my head at the speed of light and then I found a loophole in his theory. ‘Better not make me your sister,’ I said quietly, ‘then Fahad could still hit on me.’

Matt nodded his head as if considering this seriously, but I could see a smile playing around the corners of his mouth.

‘Mr Matt, Mrs Tara,’ said Fahad, looking at us in the rear vision mirror, ‘where do you want to go first?’

‘Well,’ said Matt to the mirror, ‘we want to go to the Lotus Temple and the Lodi Gardens. Is there somewhere there that is good for lunch?’

‘Oh yes,’ he continued, in his singsong Fat Albert voice, ‘the Garden Restaurant at Lodi. They do very good Indian food there.’

‘Sounds good.’

‘Yes, very good Sir,’ said Fat Fahad. ‘We’ll go to the Lotus Temple first. It is very beautiful Maam,’ he informed me.

I was wishing – just quietly – that he would watch the road a little more, and the rear vision mirror quite a bit less so I didn’t respond. I just nodded, hoping he would get the hint and start watching where we were going.

He spent the next 30 minutes practicing his English while driving haphazardly through the streets of Delhi. Finally, he pulled over at the side of the road near some street vendors.