Unmarriageable(97)
Mrs Binat began to cry. ‘You always begrudge me every happiness.’
Mr Binat was unmoved. He meant to keep this resolution, and he turned around and went into the moonlit garden, where he began to pull out weeds in order to calm his heart. This afternoon he had thought all was lost: shop, car, house, garden, jewellery, reputation. And now all was miraculously restored. He began to weep.
Alys and Jena found their father in the garden, weeding and weeping. They’d been sent by their mother to make him see sense, and he ordered them to return to her and make her see sense: Lady was dead to him, and Wickaam had never been alive.
‘Daddy, she’s not dead, God forbid,’ Alys said, ‘and she’ll always be your daughter. You have to allow them to visit us at least once. If we abandon Lady, that man will treat her as shabbily as he wants, without any fear of consequences. Also, by inviting them here, by your making a show of accepting the situation, it will go from a big scandal to merely a messy situation and will put an end to much malicious gossip.’
And so it was Mr and Mrs Wickaam arrived at Binat House for a week’s visit, Wickaam driving a brand-new car and Lady, waving madly, decked out in a new designer outfit, Nona’s ‘borrowed’ sunglasses, and a fire-engine-red mouth.
‘Your lipstick is thabahi, deadly,’ Mrs Binat said, welcoming her married daughter with exhilaration. She held a Quran over Lady and Wickaam’s heads for blessing. ‘Enter, Husband and Wife. May God keep you forever sane, safe, and satisfied.’
Mr Binat tersely shook hands with Wickaam and barely acknowledged Lady. Alys, Jena, and Mari smiled as congenially at the couple as their natures allowed. Qitty hugged Lady.
‘Moti, Fatty, you’re crushing my clothes,’ Lady said as she hugged Qitty back. ‘Qitty, I wish you’d come to Karachi too. I wish you’d all come. So many hot men. Not like the losers in Dilipabad. Karachi is for winners, and, look, I won myself a husband.’
‘Not won exactly,’ Wickaam said, ‘but phasaoed, lassoed.’
‘Hahaha. How Wick wishes he was funny,’ Lady said adoringly. ‘But he is handsome! Could any of you have guessed that, out of all of us, I would end up Mrs Jeorgeullah Wickaam?’
‘And I, Mr Lady Binat?’ Wickaam said, scratching his head.
Lady basked and chattered non-stop. Wickaam smiled his usual smile. Both behaved as if nothing was out of place. Perhaps, Alys remarked to Jena, they believed it. Lady was awfully sorry to hear that the Dilipabad Gymkhana had no dates for a reception and neither did Lotus, Burger Palace, or Pizza Palace, and not even High Chai. But it was understandable because of such short notice. She wouldn’t have minded a big dinner thrown for them at the house, but next time.
This time she was going to visit each and every neighbour, school friend, and acquaintance, with Wick in tow. First she’d stop by and show off Wick to Mareea Looclus. That would put an end to fish-face Mareea’s showing off about Sherry and Fart Bhai. Should she take Wick to the British School? Display him to former classmates and to Mrs Naheed?
‘No!’ said Alys and Jena, and Lady was too giddy to argue.
Thankfully, Lady stayed true to her plans, and she and Wickaam were hardly ever home. Mrs Binat, the proud mother, accompanied them on their visits, her arms linked between her beloved daughter and her dashing son-in-law. Dilipabad wasn’t quite sure what to think. On the one hand, Lady had run away. On the other hand, she was home with her lawfully wedded husband. To the chagrin of gossipmongers, the vilest of the gossip was dying down.
On their last evening, Mr and Mrs Wickaam insisted on dining at home, and Mrs Binat made sure Lady and Wickaam’s favourite dishes were prepared.
‘I wish you would settle down in Dilipabad,’ Mrs Binat said, thoroughly upset that they were leaving the next day.
‘That would be a death sentence, Mummy,’ Lady said. She and Wick wanted to travel. She’d been dying to go to Disneyland, and now they would go there for their honeymoon. And they planned to settle in Karachi when they came back to Pakistan. Wick had of late come into some money – Mr Binat spluttered on his rice – and he wanted to invest in some business or other, maybe a bowling alley or a highly exclusive restaurant. Law was so blah, naa.
Wickaam looked up from his koftas. ‘Hated law. Long, boring, tedious.’
‘What is long, boring, tedious?’ Alys said, unable to resist. ‘Walking through a university campus in New York?’
Wickaam gave her a slow, grudging smile. Alys returned it with a nod, and turned.
After dinner, which Mr Binat gulped down as fast as he could, he went to bed, completely unable to stomach being in the same room as these two equally bagaireth, shameless, newly-weds. Neither one had shown one iota of embarrassment, and Lady especially was acting as if hers was a love story to equal Romeo-Juliet and Layla-Majnun and Heer-Ranjha, except, of course, Lady and Wickaam were not star-crossed lovers who died. Mr Binat expected no heartfelt apologies from Lady to them, but how he wished she had apologised properly to Nona for making her miss the Indus Civilization Award ceremony. Instead, the shameless girl told Nona that no doubt there was a reason God had not wanted her to attend and therefore found a way to prevent her from going.
Alys watched her father hurry out of the dining room. She very much wanted to follow him, except that all the sisters had promised Lady that, since it was her last night with them for who knew how long, they would stay up like old times and snack on pine nuts and chat. Thankfully, Wickaam declared he was tired and went to bed.