Sit, Jessica, look how—”
Sebastian bowed his head.
“I’m so sorry,” said Priya. “What did I say?”
“Nothing, nothing. You just reminded me of something.”
“Or someone?”
Seb was rescued by the P.A. “Ladies and gentlemen, would you please take your seats, the final act is about to begin.”
The final act was so moving, and Fonteyn so captivating, that when Seb turned to see if it was having the same effect on Priya, he thought he saw a tear trickling down her cheek. He took her hand.
“Sorry,” she whispered. “I’m making a fool of myself.”
“That wouldn’t be possible.”
When the curtain finally fell, Seb joined in the ten-minute standing ovation, and Margot Fonteyn received so many curtain calls and bouquets she could have opened a flower shop. As they left the auditorium, he took Priya’s hand as they strolled back to the restaurant, but she seemed nervous and didn’t speak. Once coffee had been served, Priya said, “Thank you for a wonderful evening. Being with you was like seeing Swan Lake for the first time. I haven’t enjoyed a performance so much in a long time.” She hesitated.
“But something is worrying you.”
“I’m a Hindu.”
Seb burst out laughing. “And I’m a Somerset yokel, but it’s never worried me.”
She didn’t laugh. “I don’t think I can come to the theatre with you, Seb.”
“But why not?”
“I’m frightened of what might happen if we see each other again.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I told you my father had to return to India.”
“Yes, I assumed on business.”
“Of a kind. My mother has spent the past few months selecting the man I will be expected to marry, and I think she’s made her final choice.”
“No,” said Seb, “that can’t be possible.”
“All that’s needed now is my father’s approval.”
“You have no choice, no say in the matter?”
“None. You have to understand, Seb, it’s part of our tradition, our heritage and our religious beliefs.”
“But what if you were to fall in love with someone else?”
“I would still have to honor my parents’ wishes.” Seb leaned across the table to take her hand, but she quickly withdrew it. “I will never forget the night I saw Swan Lake with you, Seb. I will cherish the memory for the rest of my life.”
“And so will I, but surely...” But when he looked up, like the black swan, she had disappeared.
17
“So how did last night go?” asked Jenny, as she placed two eggs in a saucepan of warm water.
“It couldn’t have been much worse,” Priya replied. “Didn’t work out at all as I’d planned.”
Jenny turned around to see her friend on the verge of tears. She rushed across, sat down beside her and put an arm around her shoulder. “That bad?”
“Worse. I liked him even more the second time. And I blame you.”
“Why me?”
“Because if you’d agreed to come to the ballet with me, none of this would have happened.”
“But that’s good.”
“No, it’s awful. At the end of the evening I walked out on him, after telling him I never wanted to see him again.”
“What did he do to make you so angry?”
“He made me fall in love with him, which wasn’t what I intended.”
“But that’s fantastic, if he feels the same way.”
“But it can only end in disaster when our parents—”
“I’m pretty sure Seb’s parents will welcome you as a member of their family. Everything I’ve ever read about them suggests they’re extremely civilized.”
“It’s not his parents I’m worried about, it’s mine. They just wouldn’t consider Sebastian a suitable—”
“We’re living in the modern world, Priya. Mixed-race marriage is becoming quite the thing. You should take your parents to see Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner.”
“Jenny, a black man wanting to marry a white woman in 1960s America is nothing compared to a Hindu falling in love with a Christian, believe me. Did you notice in that film, they never once discussed religion, only the color of his skin? I realize it’s not unknown for an Indian to marry someone of a different race, especially if they’re both Christians. But it’s not something a Hindu would ever consider. If only I hadn’t gone to that cricket match.”
“But you did,” said Jenny, “so you’ll have to deal with reality. Would you rather try and build a worthwhile relationship with Sebastian, or please your parents by marrying a man you’ve never met?”
“I just wish it was that simple. I tried to explain to Seb last night what it’s like to be brought up in a traditional Hindu household, where heritage, duty—”
“What about love?”
“That can come after marriage. I know it did for my mother and father.”
“But your father’s met Sebastian, so surely he’d understand.”
“The possibility of his daughter marrying a Christian will never even have crossed his mind.”
“He’s an international businessman who sent you to St. Paul’s, and was so proud when you won a place at Cambridge.”
“Yes, and he made it possible for me to achieve those things, and has never asked for anything in return. But when it comes to who I should marry, he’ll be immovable, and I’ll be expected to obey him. I’ve always accepted that. My brother was married to someone he’d never met, and my younger sister is already being prepared to go through the same process. I could face defying my parents if I felt that in time they might come around, but I know they never will.”
“But surely they must accept that there’s a new world order and things have changed?”
“Not for the better, as my mother never tires of telling me.”
Jenny ran across to the stove as the water bubbled over the rim of the saucepan and rescued two very hard-boiled eggs. They both laughed. “So what are you going to do about it?” asked Jenny.
“There’s nothing I can do. I told him we couldn’t see each other again, and I meant it.”
There was a firm rap on the front door.
“I’ll bet that’s him,” said Jenny.
“Then you have to answer it!”
“Sorry. Got another egg to boil, and can’t afford to make the same mistake twice.”
A second rap on the door, even firmer.
“Get on with it,” said Jenny, remaining by the stove.
Priya prepared a little speech as she walked slowly into the hall.
“I’m sorry, but—” she began as she opened the front door to find a young man standing on the doorstep holding a red rose.
“Are you Miss Priya Ghuman?” he said.
“Yes.”
“I was asked to give you this.”
Priya thanked him, closed the door and returned to the kitchen.
“Was it him?” asked Jenny.
“No, but he sent this,” she said, holding up the rose.
“I really must start going to more cricket matches,” said Jenny.
“On the hour, every hour?” asked Clive.
“That’s right,” said Seb.
“And for just how long do you intend to keep sending her a rose on the hour, every hour?” asked Victor.
“For as long as it takes.”
“There’s got to be one very happy florist out there somewhere.”
“Tell me, Vic, do Jewish parents feel as strongly about their children marrying outside their faith?”
“I have to admit,” said Vic, “when my parents invited Ruth to dinner three Fridays in a row, I knew the only thing I was going to be allowed to choose was the vegetables.”