Chapter 8
About five to seven, I looked up to see Ashok approaching. I closed my Kindle, and slipped it into my bag as I stood.
‘Good book?’
‘Yes, thanks. You look very dapper.’
Dapper?
‘Well, thank you,’ he said, grinning, ‘I actually feel quite dapper. Definitely not a word that’s used as much as it should be.’
I let out a half-nervous, half-relieved laugh. ‘I’ve no idea where that came from. I’m not sure I’ve ever called anyone dapper in my life before.’
‘Then I’m honoured to be the first.’ He did a little bow then offered his arm. ‘Ready for dinner?’
‘Absolutely.’
I made to step in the direction of the hotel’s dining room but Ashok turned the opposite way towards the exit.
‘Oh!’
‘I thought we’d go somewhere different, if that’s all right? I wasn’t sure if you might feel a little awkward having dinner with me, even as friends,’ his eyes crinkled as he smiled, ‘when your daughter and the others were also eating in the same restaurant.’
I glanced up at him. ‘That’d be great, thanks, Ashok.’
‘Excellent,’ he returned and we walked out towards the darkness of the evening.
‘I’ve been thinking today about those fake relationships that you see in books and films…’
‘What about them?’
‘I’m just wondering whether that might be a route to getting my family off my back about still not having found The One.
’ His expression was one of amusement and playfulness and I felt once more how glad I was that we were able to be just friends.
And, in fact, such good friends already.
Connections didn’t have to be romantic to ‘fit’. Sometimes, it just worked.
‘If such a thing even exists?’
Ashok looked quizzical.
‘That might have come out wrong. I just meant, is there such a thing as The One? If you’re lucky enough to find The One but then lose them for whatever reason, does that mean you’ll never be happy again? That’s rather sad, don’t you think?’
‘True. Who knows? But I do have to say, my mother would love you.’
‘I’m going to take that as a compliment.’
‘Please do. She’s never liked any of my girlfriends!’
‘Perhaps your mother just has exceptional taste?’
‘Oh, without question. She was absolutely right on all of them. Now, how do you feel about going to the best restaurant in Goa?’
‘I feel great about it. Although the food here has been so good, it’s going to take some beating.’
‘Ah, a compliment and a challenge in the same sentence. I knew I liked you. Challenge accepted. I’ll let you into a secret, I’m trying to poach the head chef for a hotel I’ve just bought in Europe.’
‘Oh, really? Does he, or she, know?’
‘She does.’
‘And?’ I asked as we walked out from the cool marble interior of the atrium to the warm, sultry Indian evening, my wrap now over my arm, unrequired away from the hotel’s air conditioning.
A sleek, midnight-blue Mercedes drew up alongside us.
The driver’s door opened and a young, uniformed staff member got out, a broad smile on his face, and handed the keys to Ashok.
The smile widened as he received a tip which, knowing Ashok and how he felt about his staff, and his naturally munificent nature, would have been generous.
Another staff member approached to open the door for me, but Ashok politely signalled he was not needed and opened the door himself before walking back around to the driver’s side, sliding in behind the wheel, clicking his seatbelt into place and pulling smoothly away.
The cabin smelled of a mixture of leather, new car and the subtle undertones of Ashok’s aftershave. A slight breeze rippled the leaves of the acacia trees lining the road that led from the hotel towards the nearby village as we wound our way along it. I looked out of the window and smiled.
‘What are you smiling at?’
‘That I’m here. Finally here in India.’
‘Hopefully, it will be the first of many visits.’
I turned back. ‘You know, I think it might be. So, tell me more about this hotel in Europe and why you want this particular chef to head up the kitchen for it.’
‘I want her because I feel she has an ideal mix of innovation, traditional skills and the right personality to lead a creative team. The current one is excellent but I already know he’s been poached for a hotel in Malaysia.
I want the restaurant to become a destination in itself as well as being in one of the best hotels in France. ’
‘Ah, France.’
‘Yes. Paris.’
‘Paris!’ It came out on a sigh. ‘How wonderful. If she doesn’t want it, I’ll take it. Aside from the skills, innovation and a fondness for cooking, I’d be perfect!’
‘Is that so?’ Ashok replied, echoing my laughter. ‘Then I’ll bear you in mind. It’s probably only fair to warn her that she has competition, though.’
‘Oh, yes. Definitely.’
He stopped at a turning, checked for traffic and pulled onto another, rather bumpy road.
‘So is Paris somewhere that’s been on your “to visit” list, like India, or is it a previous love?’
His words were casual but as he glanced over with the question, Ashok’s sharp senses picked up something I’d apparently let show in an unguarded, unexpected moment.
‘I see,’ he said, meeting my eyes as I lifted my gaze. ‘Then perhaps we can talk about that over dinner. If you want to.’
And, oddly, I found that I did. Here, in this wonderful, far-flung place with a man I hardly knew but felt more comfortable with than many of the acquaintances I had at home, suddenly I wanted to tell him all.
To unpack the whole thing after it had been shut away for so very long in a dark, but never quite forgotten, part of my mind.
‘You might regret asking that.’
‘No, I don’t think I will.’