Unmarriageable(93)

‘Lack of sleep is not good for your health,’ Darsee said. Then he flushed as if he’d said something he shouldn’t have.

Alys felt a nervous flutter in her stomach. ‘I’ve been meaning to ask, how is Raghav? Did he conquer K2?’

Darsee smiled. ‘As much as K2 allows itself to be conquered.’

‘And how is Annie?’

‘Trying to convince her mother to let her Nigerian boyfriend visit; otherwise she will pack up and move to Nigeria, which she just might do if Farhat Kaleen would agree to move with her.’

Alys laughed. The book slid to the floor.

‘So you are reading Sunlight.’ Darsee picked it up. ‘I thought you might not read it after …’

They were silent for a second, each thinking of Islamabad and what had transpired there, his patronising proposal, her condescending rejection.

‘I just finished it,’ Alys said. ‘I was rereading the ending. What a beautiful meditation on memory and place. It so perfectly captures the nuance of the difference between houses and homes.’

‘You liked it, then?’ Darsee said.

‘I loved it.’

‘Me too. What exactly did you love?’

‘Everything. The way Laila struggles between the secular and the religious, the way Abida and Nandi embody class and gender issues. The way Laila is forbidden to love a poor man.’

Darsee’s smile faltered. ‘Yes, the love sto—’

The door opened and Ama Iqbal brought in the cordless phone. It was for Alys. It was Jena.

‘Jena,’ Alys said, ‘I’ll call you back. What? Slow down. What do you mean she’s run away? With whom? Of course I’ll leave for Dilipabad immediately. Uncle and Aunty too. Have you called Falak Khala? We’ll all be there soon.’

Alys hung up. Tears dripped off her chin. When had she started to cry? Darsee was kneeling before her with a box of tissues.

‘Is everyone all right?’ he said.

‘No one is all right.’ Alys took out a bunch of tissues. ‘My sister Lady has run away with Jeorgeullah Wickaam.’

The colour drained from Darsee’s face.

‘She was in Karachi, staying with a school friend, very respectable family. She left a letter saying she and Wickaam were eloping. I think you know what that means. They’ve been together for four days, and if they were married I know Lady would’ve called home to show off. She just turned sixteen. She probably believes he loves her and will marry her. She will get pregnant, he will abandon her, and I don’t know what we will do. My father left for Karachi as soon as he heard this morning. But what can he do? Why didn’t I warn my family about Wickaam? Why?’

Darsee stood up abruptly. ‘I’m sure you want me gone.’

Alys’s heart sank, and after a moment she simply said, ‘Yes. Go.’

As she watched him leave, Alys realised the depth of her feelings. She loved him. More important, she liked and respected him. As the fact of that admission settled within her, Darsee closed the door behind him and Alys knew that, had there been even a smidgen of a chance between them, it was gone forever. To be connected to a family ruined by Wickaam in the same way Juju herself had nearly come to ruin was not something Valentine Darsee would ever inflict on his beloved sister, and Alys was sure Darsee, at this very moment even, was thanking his lucky stars that she’d previously spurned his proposal.





CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR





Alys, Nona, Nisar, and Falak arrived in Dilipabad by mid evening. Nona was going to miss the Indus Civilization Awards ceremony, but no honour any of them brought to the family could ever compensate for the dishonour Lady had dealt them. As they entered the front door, they could hear Mrs Binat wailing. She was in the living room, laid out on the sofa, a thermometer by her side. Jena was wrapping up a blood-pressure monitor. Mari held a cold compress to her mother’s head. Hillima rubbed the soles of Mrs Binat’s feet. Qitty was huddled in a corner.

‘I keep getting panic attacks,’ Mrs Binat said with a great sob when she saw her brother and sister. Nisar and Falak hurried to their baby sister’s side with cries of not to worry, God would fix everything.

‘I keep asking God, What did I do to deserve this? You should’ve seen Barkat’s face when he found out. The last time he looked that way was when he discovered Goga had cheated him.’ Mrs Binat clutched Falak’s hands. She wouldn’t let go of her big sister’s grip. ‘My poor Lady. My poor Lady. Kidnapped by that ganda aadmi, dirty man.’

‘He did not kidnap her,’ Alys said. ‘She eloped.’

‘Oh, be quiet,’ Mrs Binat said. ‘Oh, Lady, Lady, my innocent baby, where are you! Imagine that man, Wickaam, a python let loose in my den of bunnies, and now he is squeezing to death our bachee, our baby bunny, which would be perfectly fine if only he marries her.’

‘He’s never going to marry her,’ Alys said. She tried not to think of Darsee and how fast he’d fled. ‘Wickaam is a fortune hunter and Lady has zero fortune.’

Mrs Binat’s eyes welled up. ‘You were the one who brought Jeorgeullah Wickaam into our house.’

‘He was the lawyer assigned to us, remember?’ Alys said guiltily. ‘For the Fraudia Acre case.’

‘The case is over, con man has run off again, not a penny will we ever see from that manhoos – accursed – land, and now Lady is being plundered for free. Someone hand me my tranquillisers. I want to be tranquil. Better yet, I want to be dead.’