Chapter 4
While Ashok ate his dinner, a paneer curry with rice that I made a mental note to order tomorrow, we ordered pudding.
Sash requested the dark-chocolate bombe that melted under a cascade of hot caramel sauce the waiter poured with a theatrical hand and, for me, a yoghurt-based dessert called Shrikhand I’d discovered a taste for in the last couple of days.
After that, we slid down from our chairs, Ashok gallantly assisting us both until we stepped back onto dry land, wiped our feet and put on our shoes.
‘I’m going to order cocktails. You’ll stay, won’t you, Ashok?’ Sasha asked, her hand on his arm.
‘If you wish.’
‘We do wish, don’t we, Mum?’
Without waiting for an answer, she took off on her search for yet more alcohol, which wasn’t a decision I was fully behind but with the whirlwind that was my daughter in charge, I did what I’d been doing ever since she’d planned the holiday – held on and hoped for the best. The world was already a little soft around the edges.
It was a long time since I’d felt like that and it was really rather pleasant in the warmth of the still, Indian night.
Pinpricks of stars shone in the sooty, velvet sky above and the tall, thin acacia trees in the landscaped garden stood elegantly at rest around us, their forms highlighted by strategically placed lights.
Ashok took a moment to roll down his trousers – impeccably cut, I’d noticed – which he’d managed to keep entirely dry.
I, on the other hand, in my efforts to make sure that I didn’t flash Ashok, or anyone else, too much thigh, had still managed to find a way to dip part of my hem in the water and was surreptitiously trying to wring it out without looking as unsophisticated as I felt.
‘It’s a wonderful idea, I think, the water dining, but it’s not always the easiest to navigate, is it?’
Clearly, my actions weren’t quite as surreptitious as I’d hoped.
‘You seemed to have managed well,’ I said, indicating his trousers.
‘Practice.’
‘You’ve been here before then?’
‘Yes, quite a few times.’
‘Are you here on holiday or for work?’
‘Work.’
‘It’s really a beautiful hotel. Sash booked everything for our trip. She’s very good at all that sort of thing.’
‘She certainly has good taste.’
‘I like to think so, but then I’m probably biased.’
‘That’s part of the job description for a mother from what I understand with my own.’
‘I suppose that’s true, yes.’
‘You are here celebrating your birthday with your daughter, then? Have you had a good day?’
‘Wonderful. Thank you. Sasha’s really spoiled me. She bought me this.’ I touched the cobalt-blue silk wrap I’d now draped across my chest and shoulders.
‘It’s very beautiful, and the colour suits you well.’
‘Thank you,’ I replied, knowing that he was right.
Hugh had never had any colour sense and wasn’t particularly interested in clothing.
Or at least he wasn’t until he’d got together with his new girlfriend.
It hadn’t bothered me particularly but I realised how much I’d missed the appreciation of clothing and style over the years.
‘After breakfast, where I had a candle in my fruit salad, which I admit was a first,’ I said, laughing, ‘we spent several hours in the spa, getting a whole host of treatments. I feel thoroughly pampered.’
‘As I’m sure you deserve.’
From some men, this might have sounded cheesy, or trite, or just plain creepy, but not here. And it wasn’t just the champagne.
‘So, how has your day been? Are you here on business alone?’
‘I travelled alone, yes.’
‘That’s very cryptic,’ I replied, smiling. My eyes drifted to his left hand. No wedding ring. But Hugh never wore one either so that didn’t necessarily mean anything.
His laugh was easy, warm and rich. ‘You’re right. It did. In my head, it didn’t sound that way. I meant that I travelled to this hotel alone but I’ve many colleagues here.’
‘Oh! Am I stopping you joining them? Please don’t—’
Ashok held up his hands. ‘No, no. Not at all. This is a most pleasant evening.’
‘It is, isn’t it?’ I agreed, then decided I’d definitely had enough to drink and that it was probably best if I got a glass of water next.
We sat in silence for a moment, looking out over the beautiful landscaping of the hotel gardens, candles flickering in ornate, silver storm lanterns on the tables of the terrace.
Classical music played softly in the background and the low hum of conversation, cut through every so often with laughter, made for a peaceful, relaxing ambience.
The silence between us wasn’t awkward. Usually, I felt the need to fill the gap with words that, once I was home, I’d lie in bed and turn over in my head, regretting what I’d felt was idiotic babble.
Something I’d demonstrated perfectly earlier, upon meeting Ashok.
But now, sitting on an elegant, but comfortable, cream-coloured sofa in this idyllic place, I didn’t feel that way.
Clearly, Ashok didn’t feel the need to fill the silence either. The last knot unfurled.
Sash strode into view and sat down heavily beside me, crossing her legs.
‘Cocktails are on their way.’
Oh, crikey.
‘And guess what? I found out something interesting about our new friend here while I was ordering.’
‘About me?’ Ashok asked, the easy smile in place.
‘Oh?’
A small knot began wriggling its way back into place. On the other hand, Sasha was smiling so I grabbed on to the hope that that was a good sign.
‘Yes.’ She turned to me. ‘Did you know that our friend here owns this place?’
I pushed myself up straighter, glancing across at Ashok.
‘That’s right,’ Sash continued. ‘This, and several others, apparently.’
‘Is that true?’ I asked.
‘Guilty as charged.’
‘Why didn’t you say so? We might have said how awful the food was or… I don’t know! I mean, it wasn’t. Obviously! The food. Or any of it.’ The calm silence evaporated as I twittered nervously on. ‘But we might have done! How awkward that would have been!’
‘Not at all. I’d have been glad to hear it. The only way a business can improve is through honest, considered feedback.’
‘That’s not really the point.’
A waitress bearing a silver tray with three cocktails and two bowls of nibbles appeared, placed all of them down carefully, checked if we wanted anything else, then retreated. Ashok waited until she had gone to reply.
‘No, I suppose not but you were both so kind in inviting me to dinner. It would have entirely spoiled the fact that your generosity was out of pure kindness, not a sense of obligation, but also meant that I got to hear how much you genuinely loved the place. Had you known the position then you may instead have felt compelled to say those things and I wouldn’t have known if it was true.
But mostly, I think swanning in and saying, “Hi, I own the place,” would make me sound, and feel – and excuse me for this, but you can blame English public-school education – a bit of an arsehole. ’
I giggled. Which was most unlike me. The current me, anyway.
Years ago, I’d giggle at anything. Not in a childish way – or perhaps it was childish?
But in that wonderful way that kids do at the slightest thing because they have no inhibitions.
No judgements. Somewhere along the way, I’d lost that ability.
Who was I kidding? It wasn’t ‘somewhere’. It was Paris. That inner child had been left that day years ago at the Gare du Nord in Paris, along with my heart.
A year later, I was pregnant and suddenly, there were lot more important things to do than giggle and laugh at the smallest thing that brought me joy. Sleep being one of them. Not that I saw much of that for a while.
‘Mum?’ Sasha’s expression was half-amusement, half-surprise.
‘Sorry. It’s just…’ I tailed off, suddenly aware that what I’d been about to say was likely going to make me look an idiot. That I could handle but I didn’t want to embarrass my daughter.
‘What?’ she encouraged me on.
‘Nothing. It was silly.’ I glanced up through my lashes at Ashok, who seemed to be just as intrigued about my answer.
‘It’s just that you have such a lovely, plummy accent and when you said, “arsehole”…
’ Oh, God. Now I’d said it out loud it sounded even worse.
I lowered my gaze, only to raise it again as Ashok laughed, deep and easily.
‘My parents sent me to England to study and I came back with this accent. My old friends here still tease me relentlessly about it.’
‘I think it’s lovely. I didn’t mean it as an insult.’
‘I didn’t think that for a moment. And I’m glad I could provide an opportunity for laughter after what I imagine has been a difficult time.’ He took Sasha in his gaze too as he spoke. ‘For both of you.’
‘Mum’s been amazing. I mean, she always is but some couples can get really nasty, can’t they?’ Sasha took a sip of her cocktail. ‘Ooh! This is yum.’
‘What did you order?’ I asked, glad of the directional change in conversation.
‘I asked the barman what he recommended and he said he’d make us something up. No idea what’s in it but it tastes amazing! Try it!’ She flapped her free hand to both of us. We obeyed. She was right. It was amazing.
‘Wow!’
‘Very good.’
‘I reckon your barman needs a raise.’
‘Sash,’ I said quietly.
She shrugged and gave Ashok a grin, which he returned.
‘You might be right,’ he answered.
Sasha turned back to me, playful smugness written all over her features. ‘See?’
‘Thanks,’ I teased our new friend. ‘You do realise I’ll never hear the end of this now.’
‘Sorry,’ he replied, not looking remotely like he meant it.
‘I’m going to go and ask him what’s in it,’ Sasha said, pushing herself up again from the sofa.
‘Tell him to name it and put it on the cocktail menu.’
She turned back. ‘Are you serious?’
He gave a brief shrug. ‘Why not?’
My daughter grinned, turned and hurried off back to the bar.
‘She has a joyful soul,’ Ashok remarked, looking the way she had gone.