Kafir arrived on time, with Tanvi standing across the landing, checking that the plan was going as she wished.
‘You both look very nice,’ she said approvingly.
‘Auntie, we are going to buy a rug, not go to a wedding,’ he told her firmly.
Tanvi raised her eyebrows. ‘That is a funny analogy to use. Don’t you think, Sennen?’
‘I think you need to stop being naughty,’ Sennen said.
Kafir laughed his deep laugh and held his arm out for her. ‘Take my arm and let us leave the naughty Auntie to meddle with someone else’s life.’
Sennen tucked her arm through his and Tanvi watched them go and called after them, ‘Be sure to show me the rug when you get back!’
The market on Saturday, even this early, was already packed. Sennen allowed herself to be guided by Kafir as he kept her arm close to his chest. It took longer than usual to get to the haberdashery quarter but when they did, the cool shade revived them.
Mr Kuranam welcomed her warmly. ‘And who is this gentleman?’ he asked, studying Kafir from top to toe.
‘Namaste, Mr Kuranam,’ Kafir replied, very formal. ‘I am Miss Sennen’s client, Kafir Singh.’
Mr Kuranam held a hand up in apology. ‘A client! I am so sorry to embarrass. Miss Sennen is a good friend. Please, come in and tell me what you are looking for.’
Kafir chose quickly with Sennen’s guidance. A linen voile that would drape well. ‘Perfect choice, Mr Singh,’ smiled Mr Kuranam, clearly not convinced that the relationship was solely a business one. ‘I am certain Miss Sennen will make a good home for you.’
Kafir hesitated slightly but thanked him.
Sennen hurried them out of the shop. ‘I’m so sorry, Kafir.’
‘What for?’
‘Mr Kuranam’s presumptions.’
Kafir shrugged, ‘It seems that a lot of people are making presumptions for us.’
Sennen giggled nervously, kept her head down, and, taking his arm, allowed him again to guide her to the rug shop.
They were invited in by a young man who offered them a seat before asking exactly what they were looking for. Kafir was stumped. ‘I don’t exactly know.’
The young man turned to Sennen for help.
‘Well, let’s start with colour,’ she said. ‘What is your favourite colour, Kafir?’
‘Blue.’
‘Dark? Light? Aqua?’
He thought. ‘Dark?’
The young assistant sprang into action. ‘I have good dark-blue rugs. Let me show you.’
Within minutes at least six beautiful rugs were unrolled in front of them.
Kafir was lost. ‘Maybe they are too dark?’
‘Let me get lighter ones.’ The boy scampered off and returned with more rugs, this time in light blue. He unfurled them with pride before Kafir.
Kafir inclined his head in a suggestion that he liked them. ‘What do you think, Sennen?’ he asked.
‘I think I prefer these, but with new drapes and your rattan furniture, maybe a cream or gold design would be nice?’
He stroked his beard. ‘Maybe.’
‘I get them,’ said the eager young man.
Eventually Kafir chose a dusty pink pattern with a rich cream-coloured background.
‘Very good choice,’ said the boy. ‘Taj Design. Agra knotted. Very nice rug.’
He and Kafir haggled over the price and, when both were happy, the deal was struck. The rug would be delivered that afternoon.
Kafir checked his watch. ‘Time for a coffee?’
They walked to a small park where a café was set up in the shade of a grove of Banyan trees. Kafir ordered two coffees from the slender teenaged girl who was serving the tables.
‘I have enjoyed this morning. Thank you,’ Kafir said, stretching his legs out in the dust.
‘Me too,’ said Sennen, draping her shawl over her hair. ‘The rug is very beautiful.’
They drank their coffee in comfortable silence, neither feeling the need to talk. Sennen watched the sparrows hopping under the tables, pecking for crumbs.
‘In Cornwall, where I grew up, we have lots of sparrows. My mother has a bird table outside the kitchen window. My father calls them Spadgers, I don’t know why.’
‘Do you know we have robins in India?’
‘Really? I didn’t think robins migrated.’
‘Not your robins. Ours are called Indian Robins but they don’t have red breasts. They are dark all over but quite tame.’
‘Poppa, my father, had a tame robin in our garden. He would come to my father and take crumbs of cheese from his hand.’
‘That’s nice. We had a tame tiger who would take steak from my father’s hand.’
‘Really?’
‘No. I am joking.’
She laughed. ‘For a moment there …’
‘Tell me about your home,’ he asked.
She described Trevay and its harbour, the fishing boats and the hard life of the fishermen. She told him about her days of sun and rain on the beach, and the childhood of paddling, then swimming and eventually graduating to surfing. She made him laugh, telling him about the terrible things she did at school and the punishments that she received. And, finally, she described her house, her parents and their work with the art students.
‘I would like to see Cornwall.’ Kafir said. ‘When I was in London, studying, there were students who talked about it, had holidays there, but we Sikhs get a little hydrophobic around the sea, or even the rain.’
‘Why?’
He pointed at his head. ‘The turban is not waterproof.’
She laughed. ‘Do you never swim?’
‘Yes, but maybe with something on that doesn’t mind getting wet.’
‘I never thought about that. But you take it off to sleep? And shower?’
‘Of course.’
‘I like your turban. It suits you.’
He inclined his head self-deprecatingly. ‘Well, thank you. And may I say I have noticed you have very shiny hair?’
She reached up and felt it. ‘I have something to confess. I sometimes pinch a little of Tanvi’s conditioning oil from the bathroom.’
‘I shall have to call the police immediately … or I can take you to the shop that sells all sorts of hair products. You can buy some for yourself and some for Auntie too.’
When they got to the shop, Sennen was enchanted by the toiletries. She bought two new bars of sandalwood soap, some body moisturiser and the hair conditioner for herself and Tanvi. At the till the assistant carefully wrapped and tied each purchase and asked Sennen if she’d like to buy some cologne for her husband.
Sennen flushed and was relieved that Kafir was on the other side of the shop. She whispered, ‘We are not married. He is my friend.’
But the assistant was not to be put off. ‘Can you not buy a friend a small gift? I have very special gentlemen’s cologne on offer. See?’ She squirted a tester onto Sennen’s hand. ‘Smell.’
Sennen put her nose to her hand and inhaled. It was lovely. The freshness of lime with a base of sandalwood and musk. She bought it.
The walk home was quite long but Sennen’s senses were alive to everything she saw and heard. The birds in the trees, the warmth of the sun, the sound and feel of Kafir walking next to her.
Back at her house, Tanvi’s door flew open as they reached the top of the stairs. ‘Successful shopping?’
‘Very,’ smiled Kafir. ‘Have you been waiting to catch us?’
Tanvi was all innocence. ‘Not at all, but I was thinking you might be hungry?’
‘Not at all,’ said Sennen as Kafir said, simultaneously, ‘Starving.’
That was all the encouragement Tanvi needed to produce plates of tasty food with fresh fruit juice.
Eventually, Kafir said he had to leave or he would miss the delivery of the rug. Taking their leave of Tanvi, he walked Sennen across the landing to her door. ‘Thank you.’
‘I haven’t done anything.’
‘But you will make my beautiful curtains and you have given me a happy day.’
‘You have given me a happy day too.’ She rummaged in her bag. ‘I have a small, very small, gift for you.’ She handed him the wrapped bottle of cologne. ‘I hope you like it.’
‘May I open it now?’
‘Yes.’
His slender brown fingers with their well-shaped nails undid the string and unfolded the paper. He took the bottle out and read the label. ‘But this is too nice.’
‘Smell it. If you don’t like it I won’t be upset.’
He twisted the top open and put his nose to the glass. ‘It’s very nice.’
‘Really? It was the woman in the shop; it was on offer and it might be like loo cleaner …’
He put his hand to her cheek. ‘Stop talking. It is beautiful and it is kind of you.’
He looked into her eyes and she felt his gaze deep inside her. She closed her eyes and turned her cheek further into his hand.
‘Now I must go.’ He dropped his hand.
‘Of course. The rug.’
‘Well, goodbye – and thank you.’ He made a small bow then turned and walked down the stairs.
She stood rooted to the floor. The skin of her cheek that he had so gently held felt cool. She ran her fingers over it with happiness and hope.
The following morning Tanvi knocked on her door. ‘I have had a phone call from Kafir. He wants us both to go to see his new rug and he will be cooking us lunch. I have said yes, so hurry. We will get a tuk-tuk in half an hour.’
Sennen was filled with energy and excitement and was pacing the landing impatiently before Tanvi was ready.
‘You look very pretty,’ Tanvi said. ‘What have you done to yourself?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Hm. Something has happened. You are changed.’ She screwed up her eyes and peered at Sennen. ‘Yes, there is a change in you.’
Kafir opened his door looking a little frazzled. ‘I have moved the rug this way and that and I still don’t know if it is right. Come and see.’
Under her bare feet, Sennen felt the softness of the wool. ‘It’s gorgeous – and perfectly placed. Tanvi, what do you think of the colour?’
Tanvi was pushing her toes, with sensual delight, into the deep pile of the rug. ‘I was sure he would go for blue. He always liked blue since he was a little boy. But this I like.’
Kafir blew his cheeks out in relief. ‘That is good. Now all you have to do is like my lunch. Are you ready?’
He had made a beautiful vegetable curry with fluffy rice and chapatti.
‘My auntie’s recipe,’ he admitted, smiling at Tanvi. ‘I have never cooked it before.’
‘He has never cooked for a girl before,’ said Tanvi.
‘Yes, I have,’ he protested.
‘When?’
‘In London.’
‘Ha!’ said Tanvi. ‘When you were a student. That doesn’t count.’
‘Well, it’s delicious,’ Sennen said dipping her chapatti in the sauce. ‘And thank you for having me.’
‘You should invite him round for supper in return,’ nudged Tanvi. ‘She cooks well, Kafir.’
‘I would like that very much,’ said Kafir looking at Sennen. ‘If you would invite me?’
And that was the true start of their courtship. He would finish work and come to her at least three times a week, always leaving by ten o’clock. It was two months before he kissed her and a year before they gently made love. Sennen had never known the true tenderness that a man could show a woman.
On her birthday he promised her a mystery tuk-tuk tour. She had to meet him, just before dawn, outside her house where he would be waiting.
It was cold as she stepped outside, wrapped in a large shawl, and the birds were starting to wake up. He was there, as promised, and helped her into the tuk-tuk.
As the little motorbike engine started, he put her hand in his, his warmth spreading into her. ‘Happy birthday.’
She guessed where they were going when the driver turned in to the road leading up to the Taj Mahal.
Kafir paid the driver then helped Sennen out. Leading her under the gated arch and into the perfect peace of the gardens, he pointed to the horizon and the glow of the promised sunrise. Turning her to face him he said, ‘This sun brings with it the day when it is in your power to make me the happiest of men.’
She could hardly believe what he was saying. She put both hands to her mouth.
He knelt down. ‘You know I am in love with you, and you have told me that you love me in return. I would be most honoured if you would say yes to allowing me to be your husband.’
Sennen could not speak. This man, this wonderful, gentle, loving man wanted to marry her? She swallowed hard and looked deep into his upturned, honest eyes. ‘Yes. Yes, please.’
He stood up and took her in his arms. ‘Thank you. Thank you.’
‘No,’ she laughed, ‘thank you.’
Tanvi came with them to Jaipur to ease the meeting between Sennen and Kafir’s parents. There was some disappointment that he was marrying a non-Sikh, but when they saw how happy he was, and how charming Sennen was, they took her to their hearts.
Her new in-laws could not have been happier with their beloved son’s choice. Kafir, at thirty-seven, had had few serious girlfriends and Sennen, now thirty-six, was unusual in that she had not been married before and, according to Tanvi, led a modest and boyfriend-free life.
The wedding was to be a quiet one, a civil ceremony to be followed by a more traditional wedding in the Gurdwara or place of worship.
A few days before the ceremony, Sennen was invited to meet with the Granthi, a woman who would officiate at the wedding. She was a handsome, devout woman with kohl-rimmed eyes and a darkly glossy plait.
‘Do I have to become a Sikh?’ Sennen asked anxiously.
‘Only God can decide if we are true Sikhs, so no. Do you believe in God?’ The Granthis asked.
‘I think so. My family were not very churchy, though. I suppose I believe that God is within us all.’
The Granthi smiled. ‘Sikhs do not show other religions in a bad light. We believe that there is one God and we see no racial or gender bias. We stay humble and honest. As Guru Nanak himself said, “I am not good, but nobody is bad.”’ She held her hands together as if in prayer and blessed Sennen. ‘May you and your husband walk the rest of your lives together on one path. May there be openness and truthfulness, with no secrets to come between you.’
When the Granthi had finished, Sennen bowed her head in deference and the woman showed her out.
Kafir, waiting outside for her, waved. She waved back trying not to think what the Granthis had said about no secrets coming between them. Gradually, a dark stone of dread, so long and deeply hidden, began to glow white hot within her.
The memory, even now, scorched her as she watched Ella and Kit’s glowing faces in the Cornish café.
‘Engaged? That’s wonderful,’ she said.
Rosemary was calling for a bottle of celebratory champagne.
Sennen felt the wet tears on her cheeks. She was crying for herself.
‘Oh, Mum,’ said Ella pushing her chin up and her lips down, ‘you sentimental old thing. Here.’ Ella brushed Sennen’s tears away with her fingers. ‘You are happy for us, aren’t you? I know this is all going very fast for you but Kit and I have been together for over six months now and I love him so much.’
‘It’s wonderful, darling.’ She gulped. ‘I wish you every happiness. Both of you.’
Somewhere a phone began to ring. It was coming from Sennen’s bag down by her feet. ‘Just a moment.’ She retrieved the phone and checked who was calling. Kafir. Had she willed him to ring her. ‘Hello? Kafir?’
‘Yes. How are you?’ he asked, the line so clear he might have been in the room next door.
‘Where are you?’ she asked, surging with the hope that he may actually be next door.
‘At home. Just giving Aali and Sabu their dinner.’
Ella gave her mother a questioning look, mouthing at her, ‘You okay?’ Sennen nodded and pointed towards the front door before, getting up and leaving the noisy room. ‘Are the children okay?’ she asked, hoping that one of them hadn’t been taken ill.
‘Fine. They are fine.’
‘That’s good.’ She stepped out on to the narrow pavement and leant against the old bowed wall. ‘Have they asked about me?’
‘A little. But no trouble. What is happening with you?’
‘I’ve met Ella and Henry.’
‘And?’
‘Ella has just told me she’s getting married. To a very nice boy called Kit.’
‘I wish them well. What about Henry?’
Sennen burst into tears. ‘I’ve mucked everything up. I should never have opened that bloody letter. I should never have told you. Never have come here. Henry hates me. And you hate me.’ She was crying loudly.
‘I don’t hate you,’ Kafir said softly. ‘I think maybe you hate yourself.’
‘Yes, I do. I’ve made a mess of my whole life even when I’ve tried to do the right thing. And I miss you and I miss the children.’ She wiped her running nose on the back of her hand.
‘When is the wedding?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know. I think they’ve only just decided to get married.’
‘Would you like me to come?’
Sennen was aware of two women on the opposite pavement watching her, wondering whether they ought to see if she was okay. She gave them a small thumbs up and a watery smile before turning her face to the wall, ‘I … I don’t know. It may be too soon. Ella would be fine, I think, but it might be too much for Henry.’
‘I see.’
‘It’s not that I don’t want you here …’ She heard the bleat in her voice. ‘I miss you. I love you so much.’
‘And we miss you.’
‘And I would love you all to be here, Kafir. I need you. I need to see you. All three of you. Please, please, you are my husband, I don’t want this to break us.’
‘I think you should work out the situation you are in with Henry and Ella first, before we begin thinking of our marriage.’ She heard a child’s voice calling him. ‘I must go, Sabu is calling me. I will send him and Aali your love. Now I must go. Goodbye, Sennen.’
‘Kafir?’ she said weakly, but he had already ended the call.