Unmarriageable(76)

‘Not at all. Not at all,’ Kaleen said. ‘For your ’unty I would break an engagement with the Queen of England. We’ll be there.’

After Darsee and Raghav drove away in a gleaming Pajero, Kaleen dropped into a chair with a self-satisfied look.

‘That man, Valentine Darsee, has never thought it made sense to stop by my house, let alone exchange a word with me, in all this time. Yet here he was, come himself, drinking my chai, eating my kebabs. Clearly my importance for Annie is on the rise.’

After Kaleen left for work, Sherry dragged Alys to the back of the garden in order to feed the goat and gather eggs. She duly informed Alys that her husband must be forgiven his flights of fancy for, clearly, dear Valentine Darsee had come for Alys.

‘Don’t be stupid,’ Alys said, flushing.

‘He’s aching to discuss the novel he gave you. Aching!’

‘Shut up.’

‘Such an ache.’ Sherry lifted a squawking chicken and swayed it obscenely. ‘Such a deep ache.’

‘Too deep!’ Alys said, laughing. ‘I thought you’d become all goody-goody once you married, and your sexual innuendos would end, but how nice that you’ve added flapping gestures to your repertoire. I don’t know what Darsee’s motive was for coming here. Last I saw him was at Fazool and Moolee’s New Year’s party, where we quarelled and he stormed out.’

‘And now he’s stormed back in,’ Sherry said, and, singing ‘Kabootar Ja Ja Ja, pigeon fly, fly, fly,’ she impishly thrust the protesting chicken at a shrieking Alys before letting it loose.



The guests duly arrived at Versailles of Pakistan at the designated time and were once again ushered into the drawing room. Raghav and Annie were delighted to see them. Darsee was politely formal. Beena dey Bagh was, it seemed, a little put out. She was grumbling about her masseuse not showing up this morning for her daily rise-and-shine massage. However, it soon became evident to Alys that, when Darsee was present, Beena dey Bagh wanted him all to herself and had patience for no one else. Annie looked much healthier this evening. Her cheeks were flushed and her general mien vibrant, and Alys concluded it was on account of Darsee’s presence. Although, since they’d arrived and been seated, Alys hadn’t seen Darsee pay Annie any attention. If she ever got engaged, Alys thought, and her fiancé ignored her, she wouldn’t put up with it.

‘I loved Flannery O’Connor’s short story “Good Country People”,’ Annie was saying. ‘Alys, the one you recommended.’

The wretched mother, the gossiping neighbour, the angry daughter, the dreadful Bible salesman, the wooden leg. Annie could easily see this story set in Pakistan, and that made Flannery O’Connor an honorary Pakistani.

Alys laughed. ‘O’Connor, Austen, Alcott, Wharton. Characters’ emotions and situations are universally applicable across cultures, whether you’re wearing an empire dress, shalwar kurta, or kimono.’

She recalled that Darsee had also said as much at the clinic and glanced at him at the bar, fixing a Scotch for himself.

‘I’m so glad you recommended her,’ Annie said. ‘Sherry, have you read it?’

‘I’ve translated it into Urdu for a collection I’m putting together.’

‘How divine,’ Annie said.

Sherry smiled. ‘I’ve always wanted to work on such projects but I’ve never had the time before, and now I have all the time in the world.’

‘Time for?’ Raghav joined them with his freshened vodka. ‘You all look like you’ve been anointed. Tell, tell.’

Alys told him about Sherry’s undertaking and Annie’s new love and that he should read it.

‘It’s not too long, is it?’ Raghav said. ‘I’m more of a haiku person, short and punchy.’

Alys shook her head. ‘You sound like a student asking how many pages an essay must be. You’ll survive reading a short story. Imagine you’re climbing a mental mountain.’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ Raghav said, giving her a mock salute. ‘Anything else, ma’am?’

Alys laughed. She was having a glorious time with Sherry, Raghav, and even Annie. Now if only Darsee would stop gazing at them from across the room as if they were worms. There was that look again, this time aimed at her.

‘Instead of plotting our demise,’ Alys called out, ‘you may join us.’

‘I would,’ Darsee said, ‘but your figures look best from here.’

‘I’m sure they do.’ Raghav performed a pirouette. ‘Especially mine.’

‘Yes,’ Darsee said, ‘most especially yours.’

‘Oh, look,’ Alys said, ‘it has a sense of humour when it wants.’

‘It certainly does,’ Raghav said. They all laughed.

Beena dey Bagh, who’d been informing Kaleen and the rather baffled Mr and Mrs Looclus of the benefits of sashimi compared to sushi – kachi machi, raw fish, the Loocluses would exclaim for months – insisted that they share the joke. They did. Beena was not amused.

‘Would any of you like to be referred to as “it”?’ she asked.

‘Only,’ Alys said, much to Kaleen’s consternation, ‘if I was being referred to as the “It” Girl.’

Beena clenched her fists. She would have forbidden them their laughter, except she was thrilled to see Annie enjoying herself. However, Beena was not happy with Alys. She clearly had no respect for Beena or her esteemed family. Perhaps time to seriously look into the parental complaints against her. Swearing. Promoting premarital sex. Her claims of marriage’s being legal prostitution. Or some such nonsense, which Beena had so far ignored, at Mrs Naheed’s behest. Not that such views and impropriety were a surprising trait coming from a woman like Alysba Binat. Beena had heard all about Alysba’s mother’s family background. Khandan was khandan, after all, and sooner or later your pedigree showed. With the satisfying thought that no one could ultimately hide where they came from, Beena pressed the buzzer to the kitchen and ordered that the khow suey dinner be served.