21. EASTERN PROMISE
TWENTY-ONE
EASTERN PROMISE
Orla, for once, was speechless.
‘A conference in Halifax!’ Tess exclaimed. ‘That’s where he was supposed to be! Not having it off in a field in Oxfordshire! Anyway, I only need to meet one more no-good “heart” before I’ve reached my half dozen, and then I can claim my ￡150 back. And I certainly intend to do so. “Ace of Hearts”, what a joke! And I’ll definitely be complaining about their so-called vetting procedure.’
After leaving the hospital, Tess could barely recall finding the station in Oxford, or anything much about the journey home. She hadn’t known whether to laugh or cry at her own stupidity. Paul Newman indeed! No fool like an old fool, she reminded herself.
‘Well,’ Orla said after a while, ‘I suppose you should be flattered, in a way. I mean, you’re sixty-two, and married men usually go for a young bird.’
‘Not with MMM, they don’t.’
‘Perhaps he’s with several sites, or perhaps he just likes older ladies, the two-timing bastard! ’
‘We had such a lovely evening,’ Tess said sadly. ‘He was so nice. I simply can’t believe all this.’
‘You’re far too trusting,’ Orla said. ‘I never believe any of them these days. Now I think back on it, I wonder if that Paul wasn’t married. But I have to say that I’m fairly certain Ricky’s all right. After all, I’ve been to his flat often enough and I’m pretty sure he hasn’t got a wife hidden away somewhere. Anyway, you saved this bloke’s life, so he should be eternally grateful to you.’
‘That’s if I didn’t bring on his heart attack in the first place.’ Tess groaned. ‘Then again, he did admit that he’d forgotten to take his pills with him.’
‘It’s getting to be a habit, looking after these dodgy blokes, like poor Barry. Anyway, stop torturing yourself!’ Orla said. ‘There’s more fish in the sea. But I’d give a lot to know how he explains this little episode to his wife. “I just happened to be camping in Oxfordshire, and while I was having a heart attack this lady came along and called an ambulance!” Would you believe that?’
Tess laughed. ‘Unlikely.’
‘Well, there you are then. Forget it.’
Tess sighed. ‘But I’m no nearer to finding an escort.’
‘But you’re well on the way to looking great,’ Orla consoled her. ‘And don’t forget, Sanjeev might still phone.’
‘Tess has lost over two stone!’ Judy proclaimed loudly to one and all the following Tuesday morning. ‘And there’s still a couple of weeks to go before your wedding, aren’t there, Tess?’
‘Correct,’ Tess said .
‘Oh, how lovely, you’re getting married!’ one of the new members gushed.
‘No!’ Judy bellowed. ‘Her lovely daughter’s getting married, and Tess here is going to upstage the bride at this rate.’
‘Well, I wouldn’t go that far,’ Tess said, feeling pleased. She looked around. ‘Honestly, if I can do it, anyone can!’
She’d continued jogging in the few weeks since she’d returned from the cruise. At one time she’d thought that once she got near her target weight she’d give it up, but she found she was enjoying it now, and it would certainly help to maintain her shape. And her diet was definitely healthier, although not as strict as that decreed by Slim Chance. Her downfall was the wine. And just look at where too much wine was getting her: hotel bedrooms, tents and goodness knows where else if she wasn’t more careful. How had she managed to reach sixty-two years without being able to spot a Lothario a mile off?
There was a round of applause for her great achievement. Tess wondered how many more times she’d attend Slim Chance to lose those last stubborn few pounds. Although the green dress fitted beautifully now, there was no leeway for gain. Another few pounds off would make her, and it, an absolute wow. She’d like a fantastic stop-’em-in-the-aisle hat too. But hats were expensive.
One more of these wretched men to go, and then she could claim back the ￡150. And that should cover the cost of a great hat.
She was still mulling over the problem the following morning as she and Orla were having their mid-morning coffee .
‘I can’t believe,’ Tess said, ‘that I could meet so many weird blokes.’
‘ Some of them were OK, weren’t they?’ Orla said.
‘Not really. First there was Benedict, with the old mother and the French boyfriend. Then there was the motorbike man, James, and Wally the exercise maniac.’ She thought for a moment. ‘And Andy, of course, with his hotel…’
Too late she realised what she’d said.
‘Andy?’ asked Orla.
‘Oh God!’
‘Andy, with the hotel?’
‘Yes, Andy with the hotel,’ Tess groaned. ‘I wasn’t going to tell you because I felt like an idiot.’
‘What, you dated him after I told you what he was like?’
‘No, before you told me what he was like!’ Tess confessed.
‘So why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Don’t ask!’
Orla snorted. ‘You did , didn’t you?
Tess said nothing.
‘He seduced you, didn’t he? Go on, admit it!’
‘I feel so bloody stupid!’
Orla laughed. ‘Was he any good?’
‘I seem to remember enjoying it, but I was still in an alcoholic haze. But, Orla, you were right; he’s a serial seducer.’
‘That’s for sure!’ Orla said cheerfully. ‘But I must admit, he had great charm. ’
And then Sanjeev phoned.
Sanjeev wished to meet Tess the very next day, for afternoon tea at the Tea Plant in Richmond. She wore her dark green silk shirt and white trousers, and decided to take the train to Richmond where she knew parking could be difficult. It turned out to be quite a walk from Richmond station, but it was a lovely day and a very attractive part of the world with its smart shops, beautiful houses and elegant low-rise red-brick flats, geraniums tumbling from their balconies.
The Tea Plant was double-fronted with window displays of tea urns, samovars, oriental and antique teapots, set against a background of Eastern ladies harvesting tea leaves into panniers held in position with straps round their heads, which looked a tad tricky.
Tess was so thirsty after her walk that she went straight inside, where there was a wonderful aroma of teas and spices. Unlike a pub, she wouldn’t mind one bit waiting in here on her own. But she didn’t have to, because Sanjeev stood up from where he’d been sitting just inside the door and said, ‘How lovely to see you again, Tess!’ He was immaculate in a smart grey suit and pristine white shirt. He still reminded her of Art Malik.
‘Great to see you, too!’ Tess said truthfully.
‘Did you manage to get parked? I would have liked to come and collect you but, in the end, I decided to come by train.’ He smiled disarmingly.
‘I came by train too,’ Tess said.
‘How very wise. Now, here’s the menu… Tell me, have you ever seen a greater collection of teas?’
Tess definitely hadn’t. There were pages and pages of teas that she hadn’t known existed. There were teas from Assam and China and Sri Lanka and Kenya and places that Tess had never heard of, followed by further pages of fruit teas and herbal teas. Teas made from just about anything.
‘This is amazing!’ Tess was thoroughly confused. ‘What a fantastic choice! But do you know what? I’d really love a good strong Indian tea, with hot water and lemon.’
‘Those are my thoughts entirely,’ he agreed, summoning the young waitress, who then listed half a dozen Indian teas. Tess settled for Assam.
‘For us both, please,’ said Sanjeev. ‘And some of the nice biscuits.’
‘Biscuits?’ Oh well.
‘For dipping in the tea,’ he explained. ‘This is one English habit that I have become very fond of.’
Tess laughed. ‘I couldn’t agree more.’ He was worth a few calories.
‘It is so kind of you to come all this way to meet me today,’ Sanjeev said. ‘But unfortunately, because of a shift change at the hospital, I have to be reasonably near in case I am needed. How is your work going?’
‘OK thanks, although it seems a very trivial occupation compared to the life-saving work you do, Sanjeev. But yes, I’ve been making quite a few outfits for ladies who, shall we say, are a little on the large side and difficult to fit.’
‘This is also skilled work,’ he said. ‘I am sure you make these ladies very happy.’
At this point the waitress deposited the tea things on the table, along with a selection of thin biscuits.
‘Perhaps you would prefer cake?’ he asked anxiously. ‘Or perhaps some scones? ’
‘Oh no, no!’ Tess replied as she poured the tea. ‘Were you born in India, Sanjeev?’
‘Oh, indeed. But my parents came to England when I was seven, so I’ve been here for a very long time. Nadira was born here. She was two years younger than me, so it was an ideal arrangement.’
Tess dunked her biscuit. ‘You are so right about arranged marriage. The way you tell it makes complete sense.’ She thought of Gerry – how she’d fallen for his looks, his penchant for power and, not least, his sex appeal. And look where that had got her.
Sanjeev leaned forward. ‘But I have some sad news. Our friend Barry has died.’
‘Oh, Sanjeev!’ Tess could feel the tears welling up. ‘I knew he wasn’t going to get better, but that is so sad. How did you find out?’
‘Well, I’d given him and Alan one of my cards and said to contact me if I could help in any way. I got the call from Alan just yesterday.’
‘He was such a nice wee man.’ Tess blew her nose. ‘And so interesting.’
‘You must not be upset,’ he said gently. ‘You were very kind to him, and I believe at the end it was very peaceful.’
‘I suppose you get used to that sort of thing with the work you do.’
Sanjeev smiled. ‘My job is to prevent people from dying, Tess. And believe it or not, I still feel incredibly sad when one of my patients slips away.’
‘You don’t become immune to people dying then? I often wonder how doctors and nurses avoid being emotionally involved, particularly when you build a relationship with a patient and become fond of them. ’
‘We’re only human. But we have to keep our emotions in check. And don’t forget that I lost Nadira to cancer, so I’m aware that every single death is a tragedy for someone. Now, shall we talk about something more cheerful?’
‘OK, so, if you hadn’t become a doctor, what else would you like to have done?’
He thought for a minute. ‘I think I’d have liked to be involved in film-making. The cinema fascinates me; particularly the Bollywood films of India. I think I’d have had a go at directing films. And you?’
‘I sometimes think I’d like to have studied architecture. Buildings, and houses in particular, fascinate me… but I wasn’t really bright enough and there wasn’t the money. My parents were quite old-fashioned; they thought that you should get a job when you left school, or do an apprenticeship in something or other. University was for the super-brainy who would become lawyers and teachers. And doctors, of course! And girls did not become architects in their neck of the woods.’
‘That’s sad.’
‘Not really, because I enjoy what I do. And I’d probably have been an awful architect!’
‘I’d have commissioned you to build my house, and my film sets!’ Sanjeev said, laughing.
Tess was struck again by what a charming, clever man Sanjeev was, and such a refreshing change from the dreary devious ‘hearts’ she’d met so far. Of course that was probably because he wasn’t a ‘heart’. She was dunking her second biscuit when Sanjeev’s phone rang. There followed a monosyllabic conversation, ending with, ‘OK, I’m on my way. ’
He leaned towards Tess as he replaced the phone in the breast pocket of his shirt. ‘I am so very sorry, but I have to go.’
‘I’m sorry too, Sanjeev.’ And she was very sorry.
‘This is what always happens. Please forgive me. But can we meet again, Tess? I’d really like to.’
‘And so would I,’ Tess said with feeling.
As it was only half past three when she got back to Milbury, Tess decided to return to the shop.
When she walked through the door, Orla looked up in surprise. ‘What happened to the date?’
Tess sighed. ‘He was called away just as we were getting chatting.’
Orla rolled her eyes. ‘Is he really worth all the bother if he’s always going to be dashing off to his work?’
‘But he’s so gorgeous!’ Tess said.
‘Well, I suppose he’d certainly be handy to have around,’ said Orla. ‘You can get all your ailments lined up and be diagnosed by your own personal physician, instead of having to wait for weeks for an appointment at the surgery here and then discovering that your own quack’s gone on his holidays.’
‘I wouldn’t take advantage like that. Anyway, he’s an oncologist , Orla.’
Orla said, ‘You could have done with him over the last couple of years, couldn’t you?’
‘I certainly could. And he’s so good-looking and charming,’ Tess sighed. ‘And so polite.’
‘Hang on to him then. Men like that are scarcer than hens’ teeth. ’
‘And he had an arranged marriage. Can you imagine that?’
‘No, I can’t, but marriage is such a gamble anyway that I guess that’s as good an arrangement as any. At least you’d probably be well matched, no skeletons in the cupboard. But what if he turned out to be as ugly as sin? It’s all right if he looks like your Adonis.’
When she got home that evening, there was an email waiting.
Dear Tess,
I apologise profusely for having to abandon you in the Tea Plant. Please forgive me and permit me to take you out for dinner. Would you be free on Sunday or Monday evening? And what type of food do you like? Please don’t feel obliged to say vegetarian!
Kindest regards,
Sanjeev
Tess re-read the email several times. What a gentleman! And she would most definitely like to have a meal with him, and Sunday evening would be just fine. For a moment she considered giving him her home address, but then thought perhaps not yet. Maybe next time – if there was a next time, which she hoped there would be. Furthermore, one of her favourite places to eat was the excellent Indian restaurant in Milbury, so she wouldn’t have far to go home if he should be called out again.
She emailed Sanjeev back to say she’d love to have dinner with him on Sunday evening and that she adored Asian food, so how about the Taj Mahal in Milbury? Not to be confused with the one in Agra, of course. She resisted the temptation to add ‘ha ha’.
In return, he promised he would not be called out this time and Tess decided that, if the dinner went well, she might just invite him home for coffee. But definitely no sex, even if he was very fanciable. She still felt embarrassed at the goings-on in that tent, not to mention at the Beeches. What on earth had got into her? Alcohol, that’s what had got into her. But with Sanjeev that wouldn’t be a problem. And Sanjeev, she felt sure, was a man of principle with respect for women. A gentleman at long last.
Wearing her pink sleeveless shift, which she considered to be suitably demure, Tess arrived at the Taj Mahal at twenty-five minutes to eight, and there he was, in a blue open-neck shirt and white trousers, looking even more like a film star than Art Malik. He stood up, shook her hand (no kissing or lip-smacking the air), and asked her what she would like to drink. She decided a lager would be a suitable accompaniment to the curry she intended to have. Sanjeev ordered a tonic water with ice and lemon for himself.
‘But please, you must have whatever you wish. Most of my colleagues drink; in fact I’d go so far as to say that some of them drink a little too much!’
‘Well, I guess yours is a very stressful job,’ Tess said, studying the menu.
They chose four different curries to share, two of which Tess had never tried before, plus rice, poppadoms and mango chutney. She tried to remember to sip her lager and not gulp it, as she was prone to do. He might be a good influence on her, as she sometimes felt she enjoyed her wine just a little too much. And she certainly exceeded the maximum number of units she was supposed to imbibe per week.
With difficulty, Tess managed to make her single lager last for the duration of the meal, and was about to suggest he come back to hers for a coffee when he said, ‘Do you mind if we have some tea or coffee and then I leave you? I know it’s quite early but I was on duty last night and only managed a couple of hours’ sleep today, and I’m on again tomorrow morning.’
Tess’s spirits plunged. ‘Of course,’ she said.
What made it even more disappointing was that she’d spent the morning vacuuming, tidying up, plumping cushions and arranging flowers in vases – just in case she decided to ask him back. She’d thought it would be nice to provide a retreat for him from the rigours of hospital life. A place he might like to return to time and time again.
They agreed on tea. It was only half past nine when they parted company and he was very concerned about her getting home safely, unaware it was a mere five minutes away. He was apologetic, yet again, about the necessity of his early night. He would be in touch soon.
As Tess sank into her armchair in her unusually pristine lounge, she wondered if and when he would be in touch. She was sure they moved in totally different social circles, and he had such a demanding profession. But she so hoped he would.
He didn’t contact her the next day and, as she and Orla had a lunch break after a manically busy morning, Tess sighed and said, ‘I’m wondering if he’ll call me again. He seems to work round the clock. ’
‘Give the man a chance! Well, give him a week anyway. And in the meantime, why don’t you try another “heart”? How many more do you have to go?’
‘One more and I’ll have met the six. And if the next one is rubbish then I’m going to try to get my money back.’
‘Why shouldn’t you get your money back – how are they going to know whether or not you want to see any of these guys again?’