Unmarriageable(94)

‘Don’t say that,’ Falak and Nisar said in distress.

‘God has abandoned us,’ Mari said, gripping her inhaler. ‘If you ask me, we should all kill ourselves. Better that than endure society’s taunts for the rest of our lives.’

‘Oh, Mari,’ Nona said. ‘Let us have faith that this will come to a good end.’

‘Nona jee,’ Mrs Binat said, ‘my sweet sister-in-law, someone has done bura jadoo – ill-will magic – on us. Useless Uterus Sherry married so well. Jena dumped by Bungles. Alys a failure. And now my Lady. Ill-will magic. No other explanation.’

‘The explanation,’ Alys said, ‘is that he targeted Lady and she likes to make you-you eyes at everyone, and this time she went too far.’

‘Alys,’ Mrs Binat said, sitting up, ‘not everyone is content to live the life of an unmarried failure. Lady is bright and beautiful and soulful, and that is why that handsome devil targeted her. If I were him, I’d have done the same. Your father will find them and make them marry. That is what we should pray for.’

‘What we should be praying for,’ Alys said furiously, ‘are mothers who do not preach marriage all day every day until—’

‘Come, Alys,’ Hillima interrupted her. ‘Come help me make chai.’

Hillima took Alys by the hand and pulled her into the kitchen. This was hardly the time for daughter and mother to have one of their fights. Alys sank into a chair at the kitchen table. Hillima gave Alys two painkillers. Minutes later Jena joined them. She sent Maqsood, the cook, out of the kitchen and to his room – he had a tendency to gossip.

Once Maqsood left, Alys asked Jena, ‘Does Mummy really believe Wickaam kidnapped Lady?’

‘I don’t know what she believes,’ Jena said. ‘Her beliefs keep changing every minute. If it wasn’t for Hillima, the rest of us would have gone mad by now.’

Hijab’s mother had phoned that morning. Hillima had brought the cordless into the dining room, where the family was at breakfast. She’d given the phone to Mrs Binat. Seconds later, Mrs Binat had tossed the phone at her husband and proceeded to wail. Hijab’s parents were distraught at their house being the launching pad for such a thing. They’d thought Lady belonged to a good family. Girls from good families did not do such things. She was a Binat. Otherwise they would have never allowed Hijab to invite her. Hijab was traumatised by this turn of events and completely innocent of any complicity. How dare Mr and Mrs Binat send an awara badchalan, a sex-crazed daughter, to their home.

After Hijab’s mother hung up, a bewildered Mr Binat informed them that Lady had run away with Jeorgeullah Wickaam. Only Qitty seemed unsurprised. In fact, she’d said, ‘I can’t believe Lady actually went ahead with it. She always wanted romance.’

Qitty had known this was going to happen and she’d said nothing. Mr Binat looked as if he was going to hit one of his children for the first time in his life, and he told Qitty so.

Qitty had begun to cry. Lady had telephoned her to share her secret and had been so nice to her for once. Like a good sister. Lady had said there was a beach bonfire and Wickaam was there and everyone thought he was gorgeous but he had eyes only for her. Lady had also said that it wasn’t as if Mummy and Daddy could ever afford to get any of them married with phoon phaan – a splash like NadirFiede – and she wanted an unforgettable splash of her own. Eloping was her way of getting it.

Hillima set mugs of chai in front of Jena and Alys.

‘At least,’ Alys said, wrapping her hands around her mug and drawing as much solace as she could from its warmth, ‘we know Lady believed Wickaam was going to marry her. But you and I know he’s not going to. That would take a miracle.’

‘Miracles don’t happen to people like us,’ Jena said, her head in her hands. ‘We don’t have the kind of money that can buy miracles.’

It was decided that Nisar and Nona would join Mr Binat in Karachi. Nona’s parents could keep the children for another few days, and Nisar would take emergency family leave from work, because this was a family emergency. Alys would have liked to accompany them, but the school year was about to start and if she and Jena didn’t return to work, their absence would confirm the rumours that were already circulating about Lady.

Alys had told her mother to please not entertain the neighbours or anyone with the details of what had happened, but Mrs Binat required more of an attentive audience for her grief than just Falak, and to the delight of a neighbour who stopped by for a chat, she related the whole sordid tale.

The news spread overnight, and the next day throngs of neighbours arrived with their great concern. Bobia Looclus came armed with a platter of chicken pulao because, though grieving, one must eat. Mrs Binat ate and held court, howling loudly about her ill luck, her poor Lady, that python Wickaam, and how this was all Hijab’s parents’ fault.

‘People worry about servants gossiping,’ Mari said morosely to her sisters, ‘and here our mother is doing the job.’



The next day, Nisar and Nona left for Karachi. Back in Dilipabad, everyone hovered around the phone. Mr Binat called late at night. Nisar and Nona had arrived. To what good, though? Karachi was a sprawling metropolis; the couple, if that was what one must call them, could literally be hiding anywhere. The fact that they were hiding terrified him. Should they not have strutted back into society by now as Mr and Mrs Jeorgeullah Wickaam?