Unmarriageable(44)

‘Do you remember the Ojhri arms-depot explosion in 1988, which killed and injured scores of civilians?’ Wickaam blinked. ‘Both my parents and Valentine’s father had been in the vicinity together. They all died.

‘Valentine and I were fourteen years old. Deena Khala kept insisting she was my mother now, but no one can replace a mother. Beena Khala comforted Valentine and me as if our losses were equal. But Valentine had his mother and his four-year-old sister, Jujeena. I was the full orphan. Still, Valentine and I found ourselves crying shamelessly together and wishing revenge on everyone who told us boys don’t cry and certainly not in public.

‘Deena Khala was going mad with grief, just weeping all the time. She decided Pakistan reminded her of loss, and that a change of scenery would benefit us, and so we all moved to London. London was nice, except Valentine was growing sickeningly jealous of both his sister and me, for he couldn’t bear to share his one remaining parent’s love with anyone. Adding to Valentine’s rage was his mother’s frenetic dating, if “dating” is what you’d call Deena Khala’s revolving list of lovers. Darsee calls them “unsuccessful relationships”. One day, Deena Khala declared she was in love with Ricky from Thailand and married him. They moved to Bangkok, and Deena Khala decided to take only Jujeena and Valentine with her.

‘I was hurt, but I’d survived the death of both parents on the same day so this was nothing. I was sent to Bradford to live with my father’s family. Everyone was very kind, but it was more out of duty than love.

‘After three years, Deena Khala divorced Ricky because he wanted a second wife, and she came back to Pakistan. I also returned to live with them. But it was not the same. The closeness Valentine and I had once shared was gone. And Jujeena barely remembered me. Then we found out that Deena Khala had an advanced stage of cancer and had months to live. I was so sad. I thought this would bring us all closer. Instead, for all of their supposed love for my mother, both Beena Khala and Deena Khala tampered with my mother’s will. I received no share in the British School Group, or anything. God only knows why they did this; I believe this question will haunt me forever. I am not materialistic, Alys, but to be cheated out of one’s inheritance is a hard thing to bear. It’s why I decided to be a lawyer. To make sure that others are treated fairly.

‘My father’s family had no clout compared to the dey Baghs, and everyone on my mother’s side preferred to remain in Beena Khala’s good books. I’ll never forget one moment: I’d come to pay my last respects to Deena Khala on her deathbed. Beena Khala was there too when Deena Khala said, “Jeorgeullah is our sister Weena’s son. Let us give him his due.” But Valentine roared, “Never!” And that was that. My own cousin, my buddy, my brother, if you will, betrayed me.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ Alys said, mortified. ‘I’m so sorry about the loss of your parents. Everything. I don’t know what to say. My father went through a similar betrayal with his elder brother, and I understand your devastation.’

‘Thank you. Thank you very much. Your sympathy means so much to me.’

‘Darsee is even worse than I imagined,’ Alys said. ‘I can’t believe he thwarted his mother’s wish on her deathbed!’

‘Believe it,’ Wickaam said, gazing into her eyes.

‘I do!’ Alys said, earnestly. ‘I most certainly do. But doesn’t Darsee realise that money, power, prestige, it’s all ephemeral, and that eventually we go to our graves with nothing and leave behind only memories?’





CHAPTER ELEVEN





Alys returned from her day with Wickaam in time to hear Nona sighing about having to make a night delivery and Ajmer being unwell. Alys volunteered to deliver the cake with Jena. Jena was making origami ornaments for the Christmas tree with the children, but she took one look at Alys and rose.

Alys backed the car out of the driveway and took a turn into the main street. She filled Jena in as fast as possible. Jena was thrilled that Alys had met Bungles and that he’d asked about her, but she was troubled at the report Jeorgeullah Wickaam had given of Darsee. If Darsee was as vile as his cousin claimed, then why was Bungles friends with him? Surely he must know about Darsee usurping Wickaam’s inheritance.

‘Perhaps,’ Alys said as she glanced at the address Jena was holding, ‘all decent people think Darsee is a decent person because he chooses to treat them decently.’

‘But, Alys,’ Jena said hesitantly, ‘just because a relative says something doesn’t make it true. We know that!’ A beggar tapped on her window and she rolled it down and handed him money. ‘I don’t want to believe that Darsee is devious or that Wickaam has some ulterior motive for maligning him.’

‘You never want to believe ill of anyone,’ Alys said, driving around a bullock cart. ‘In a country where the national sport is backstabbing and one-upmanship, I don’t know whether to hand you a trophy for sainthood or for stupidity.’

‘I don’t want trophies,’ Jena said. ‘Take a right from here. All I’m saying is that we have no proof to back Wickaam’s accusations and that a person should be innocent until proven guilty.’

Alys rolled her eyes. ‘What was the house number again?’

At the house, Alys delivered the solar-system cake to the kitchen and took the remaining payment. She returned to the car and turned back onto the main road. A car cut in front of her. She honked. The man inside yelled, ‘Bloody lady drivers!’