He waved to her as he ordered himself a drink. Dressed in a well-cut pinstriped suit and a long coat, he looked every inch the corporate lawyer that he was. Chaya thought about what she was wearing – jeans, t-shirt and jumper. She had a black jacket and a necklace hanging on a hook on her office door in case she needed to be smart, but generally, she didn’t bother with them. Most of the time her clothes were hidden under a lab coat anyway. Perhaps, she reflected, as a lawyer’s wife, she’d have to dress a little better. The thought was quite funny, really.
‘Hello,’ said Gimhana, placing a quick kiss on her cheek. He removed his coat and folded it neatly. ‘How’re you?’
‘I’m okay.’ Chaya smiled. ‘You?’
‘Pretty good.’ He pulled up a chair and sat opposite her. ‘Okay,’ he said, pulling out a notebook with his scrawl on it. ‘To business.’
Chaya took a deep breath. ‘I’ve thought about your proposition.’ She fiddled with the edges of her own notebook.
‘And?’ He leaned forward, his elbows on the table. ‘You haven’t changed your mind, have you?’
‘The answer is still yes,’ she said. ‘Providing that we sort out a few ground rules.’
Gimhana grinned. ‘That’s great.’ He patted his notebook. ‘Ground rules are a must. What did you have in mind?’
It was reassuring that they were both approaching this in a business-like fashion. ‘Firstly, we must appear to all intents and purposes to be a normal married couple. Living together, holidays, all that stuff.’
‘Fine with me. I was thinking you could move into my house. I’ve got three bedrooms, you can have one if you want… or we can share.’ His face twitched a little when he said this.
Chaya had given this some thought. ‘I think having a room each would be too difficult to hide. Especially, if people came round unannounced. I think we should share the space, but we don’t need to actually sleep in the same room. Just keep our stuff in it,’ she said quickly.
Gimhana considered it. ‘Okay. That sounds doable. If we find it’s too difficult sharing the space, we’ll figure out an alternative.’
‘Okay.’
‘That brings us to the obvious next problem,’ he said. Then, when she failed to respond, he added, ‘Sex?’
‘What about it?’ said Chaya, taken aback. That was the one area she’d thought she was clear on. ‘I don’t want to sleep with you and you don’t want to sleep with me...’ she hesitated. ‘Do you?’
He laughed. ‘No, that’s not what I meant.’
She raised her eyebrows at him. She’d known he wasn’t attracted to her, but she hadn’t expected it to be quite that risible an idea.
He caught her expression and grimaced. ‘Sorry, that was insensitive of me. No. It’s a given that we don’t need to sleep with each other. I meant seeing other people. How do you feel about that?’
Chaya frowned. ‘I don’t really care who you sleep with,’ she said. She had thought about this a lot. While she seemed to have lost her libido along with her heart, Gimhana hadn’t. This was an arrangement that had to work for both of them. There was no reason to force celibacy onto him. ‘So long as no one else gets to hear about it. Not friends, not relatives, not me.’
Gimhana nodded. ‘That’s fair enough. You, of course, are free to do the same.’
Ha. Like that was likely. The only person she’d wanted to sleep with was Noah. Without him, she didn’t care about sex.
Gimhana seemed to be thinking along the same lines. ‘What if your Noah reappears?’ he said.
Just hearing his name stabbed at her insides, making her feel as though she were somehow betraying him. They had split up ten years ago. He’d moved on and got married. It was time she did the same.
She looked down at her hands, which were tapping lightly against the side of her glass. ‘That won’t happen. We split up for a reason. That reason hasn’t gone away.’ She looked up and met his gaze. ‘You don’t have to worry about that.’
He looked into her eyes for a moment, as though trying to gauge the truth. ‘Good,’ he said, finally lowering his eyes. ‘Shall we put that down as “no affairs”? We can hook up with whomever we like, but we can’t keep seeing them on a regular basis.’
Chaya waved a dismissive hand. This wasn’t something she was going to need to worry about. She wasn’t going to have an affair and Gimhana was smart enough not to get caught. ‘Fine.’
‘Which brings us to kids. Do we want any?’
This was a difficult one. She had no craving for a child. It would only be a distraction from her work. Besides, the marriage she and Gimhana were planning wouldn’t provide a suitable environment in which to bring up a child. ‘I don’t think so,’ she said. ‘Why? Do you want kids?’
‘Not particularly,’ he said. ‘It’s not been an option for me before… I’m not absolutely sure how I feel about it.’ He tapped his notebook thoughtfully. ‘And my mother will nag about grandchildren.’
They looked at each other. Her amma would nag about grandchildren too, but the idea of being responsible for a child filled her with cold dread. Chaya suddenly felt incredibly young and vulnerable. She couldn’t believe that she was sitting in a pub, negotiating her future like this. This was not how things were supposed to happen. But her life wasn’t like other people’s. She was a broken person. She couldn’t handle a normal life. This was the best solution for her. It would allow her to keep up her career and still have an acceptable life.
Gimhana looked like he was having problems handling it too. The realisation that he was struggling with this in much the same way as she was made her feel better.
‘Shall we agree no kids?’ she said, gently. ‘And if one of us feels differently, we must talk honestly to the other one.’
He nodded, giving her a half smile. ‘That sounds reasonable.’
‘When our parents ask,’ said Chaya. ‘We can say that we tried and we can’t.’
‘If you’re okay with that…’
Chaya shrugged.
‘Okay,’ Gimhana said.
They both looked down at their notebooks. As the implications of this conversation sank in, Chaya realised that her overwhelming feeling was relief, rather than regret. Relief was good. She must be doing the right thing.
‘I’ve got work next,’ she said. ‘I want to carry on with my career. I’m not intending to be a housewife or anything.’
Gimhana grinned. ‘I would have expected nothing less. I tend to work long hours if I’m in the middle of a project,’ he said. ‘Is that okay?’
‘Fine by me. I tend to work late if I’m writing a paper.’
‘Good.’ He ticked something off his list. ‘I would like you to come with me to the odd company event,’ he said, looking up.
‘I already do,’ said Chaya, spreading her hands. ‘So that’s fine. So long as it’s not every month or something ridiculous like that.’
‘No. I’ll make sure it’s only sporadic.’ He ticked it off his list.
She did the same. ‘I travel to conferences a lot…’
‘Not a problem. I travel a fair bit with work myself.’
Chaya looked down at her notes. Next on her list was the word ‘money’, which she had underlined twice.
Chaya cleared her throat. ‘I… don’t come with a dowry…’
Gimhana stared at her for a moment, then burst out laughing. ‘Stop looking so worried. I don’t care about a dowry! Whatever gave you that idea?’
‘Well,’ said Chaya. ‘It’s not just that. You earn a lot more than me. You own two houses. I’m an academic who’s only just starting out. I don’t make a whole lot.’
Gimhana shrugged. ‘So?’
‘I don’t know, I just feel a little awkward. It seems a little unfair.’
Gimhana leaned forward and took her hand. ‘Chaya, I know this is more like a business transaction than a marriage, but I would like us to have as normal a life as possible. I don’t care about how much money you have. Okay?’
Chaya nodded and gave him a small smile, feeling rather silly for having brought it up. ‘Okay.’
‘Besides,’ said Gimhana, leaning back. ‘You’re doing me a huge favour. It really helps my career to be married and… conventional.’
They chatted for a while longer, covering seemingly trivial topics that could expand into arguments later. It turned out that they both wanted exactly the same things from the marriage – freedom to carry on with their careers, social acceptability, companionship.
‘Anything else?’ Chaya said, when they’d come to the end of her list.
Gimhana looked uncomfortable.
‘What?’ said Chaya.
‘I would like you to talk to someone about your… mental health. You’re clearly depressed and anxious. You need to get some help.’
She stared at him. She hadn’t expected that.
‘Chaya, you don’t have to hide it these days. I’ve been doing some research on the internet and there’s lots of things you can do to help. Antidepressants are pretty effective and—’
‘No,’ she said. ‘I can’t… won’t… take antidepressants.’
His frown deepened. ‘But why not? You have an illness. It’s a cure.’
‘My brain…’ She gestured, her fingers fluttering to her head. ‘My brain is my best asset. I can’t do anything that would mess with it.’ Her feelings were controlled by her brain too, but she couldn't risk losing any of it. ‘What if, by trying to fix how I feel, I lost my ability to think?’
‘I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works…’
‘Isn’t it? Are you sure about that?’ she snapped. ‘I’m a scientist. I read side effect logs.’
‘But rare side effects.’
‘I can’t take the risk.’
He took a deep breath and let it out in an equally deep sigh. ‘Okay. Not antidepressants then, but there must be something. Therapy, maybe. Counselling. Something.’ He leaned forward and touched her hand. ‘I worry about you. A lot. I don’t want to have to worry about whether you’re in one piece every time I come home.’
That was a fair point. Ever since she’d realised that her mental state was affecting Sara, she’d done her best to make sure that the only person affected by her episodes of despair had been her. Although she managed, she wasn’t deluded enough to think that she was coping particularly well. Gimhana helped, just by his presence, but it wasn’t right to make him feel responsible for her like that. A talking therapy could be an option. She was sceptical about how well that would work for her, but there wasn’t any actual harm in trying, was there? ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘I promise I will go and see the university counselling service.’ She had a sudden thought. ‘I’d like something from you in return.’
‘What?’
‘I want you to stop drinking.’
He grimaced and shook his head. ‘Can’t do that,’ he said. ‘It’s very much part of the culture at work. I can’t be the goody-goody teetotaller in the corner. No.’
‘Well, cut down, then. You drink far too much.’ She caught his gaze. ‘I don’t want to have to worry about whether you’re in one piece every time you come home.’
He gave her a grudging smile. ‘When you put it like that,’ he said. ‘Fine. I’ll compromise. I will make a conscious effort to cut down on my drinking.’
‘In that case,’ said Chaya, smiling at him, ‘I think we have a deal.’
They shook on it and then stared at each other for a moment, not sure what to say next. Gimhana reached across the table and gave Chaya’s hand a squeeze. ‘I think this is going to work, you know,’ he said, grinning. ‘I can think of worse people to spend the rest of my days with.’
Chaya smiled back. ‘Thanks.’ She raised her glass. ‘Here’s to “good enough”.’
He clinked his drink against hers. ‘To good enough.’ He sipped and put his glass down, leaving a thin beer-moustache on his upper lip. Chaya pointed it out to him with a gesture.
‘You know,’ he said, taking a handkerchief out of his pocket, ‘my cousins say that the proposal is almost more important than the wedding day for girls.’
‘Is it?’ said Chaya. She had stopped daydreaming about weddings years before. All her dreams involved Noah, and she couldn’t allow herself to think about him.
‘Apparently,’ said Gimhana, grinning. ‘So, this weekend, I’m taking you to a jeweller and you can choose whichever ring you want. And then I can propose to you properly.’
Chaya grinned back, feeling a sudden wave of affection for him. As far as a person to spend the rest of her life with went, she could do a lot worse.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chaya – London, 2005
Amma was overjoyed when Chaya told her. ‘Oh, that’s wonderful news!’ she said, her jewellery jingling as she bounced with excitement. ‘I’m so happy. Oh, wait until I tell Janaki.’
‘Janaki?’ said Chaya. ‘Who’s Janaki?’
‘Mrs Herath.’ Amma clicked her tongue. ‘Gimhana’s mother.’
‘I didn’t know you were on first name terms with Gimhana’s parents.’
‘Oh, we kept in touch. We were so sure that you were perfect for each other. When I found out that you had met up again in London, I called her.’ Amma laughed. ‘You children forget how much a mother knows about you! We just knew you would get on, you see. It was just a matter of time until you two figured it out.’
The irony made Chaya smile. She could imagine the two mothers phoning each other up and comparing notes. As far as she was aware, Gimhana had only mentioned her to his parents in passing. They must have read a lot of meaning into a few casual statements. They had been right, on one level. She and Gimhana had been seeing a lot of each other. On another level, of course, they were completely wrong. She wondered whether it was fair to lie to her mother like this, through her actions as well as her words. Little white lies, she decided. Let her have her illusions. They protected her.
‘Both my daughters will be married,’ Amma continued. ‘I’m so happy!’
* * *
Malini was similarly overjoyed. When she’d stopped shrieking in delight, she said, ‘So, when’s the wedding? Have you thought of a date yet?’
‘Sometime mid November,’ said Chaya. ‘Amma is getting the horoscopes checked for dates.’ All Buddhist weddings were dictated by auspicious moments, when the planets of both people aligned properly, to provide them with the best possible blessing. They also checked the horoscopes for compatibility. She and Gimhana were unlikely to be fully compatible, but everyone was so relieved to get the matter settled, that no one would worry too much about it.
‘Are you coming over early?’ said Malini. ‘We’ll have to go on a trip somewhere for a few days, just you and us and the kids. We can spend some quality time before you get married.’
‘I’m getting married, not dying. I’ll still be around to talk to you.’
‘Yes, but it won’t be the same, will it?’ said Malini. ‘Besides, there are things I should talk to you about.’
Chaya rolled her eyes. Her sister was probably intending to give her a lecture about the facts of life. Malini had been impossibly naïve in her teens, the idea that she was suddenly an expert amused Chaya.
‘I know about sex, if that’s what you mean,’ said Chaya.
Malini drew breath slightly, as though shocked to hear her say it. After a moment’s reflection, she said, ‘Yes, I suppose you must do. You read a lot, I guess.’
‘Yes,’ said Chaya. She decided to ignore the suggestion that her knowledge came entirely from books. ‘I seem to recall telling you about the mechanics of it when we were kids.’
‘Oh yes,’ said Malini. She giggled. ‘I remember now. I didn’t believe you at first.’
Chaya laughed. ‘No, you didn’t.’
Eventually, Malini stopped laughing and said, ‘What happened to those kids, huh? We were so young and innocent.’
The laughter dropped away from Chaya’s face. Those years seemed like a different lif
e now. They had been full of hopes and dreams. They had been happy. Then real life had come along. Malini hadn’t challenged the ideal of marriage and children. Chaya, on the other hand, had held bigger ambitions. Look where it had got her. Empty, broken-hearted and about to enter a sham marriage.
‘Chaya? Are you still there?’
‘Yes, I’m still here.’ She sighed. ‘I’d better go, actually. I’ve got to give a lecture tomorrow and I need to check the slides.’
‘Okay.’ Malini sounded disappointed. ‘I’ll speak to you soon. Congratulations again, Nangi. I’m so pleased for you. Gimhana seemed like a nice man. And he’s very good-looking. He’s a great catch.’
‘Yes,’ said Chaya. ‘He is.’
* * *
When Gimhana told his mother, he had a full minute of her thanking gods and going on about karma before he could get another word in. He leaned back on the sofa and listened indulgently. She shouted the news out to his father. Gimhana had to move the phone away from his ear.
‘Oh, darling, we’re so pleased,’ she said. ‘I knew this would work out. Her mother thought so too.’
So she’d been in touch with Chaya’s mother. Gimhana shook his head. He wasn’t exactly surprised. He’d got used to the idea that whatever he let slip about his private life was being discussed by his mother and her friends. Humble-bragging about their children was an accepted practice in that set. It was one more reason to keep the truth from her.
‘So, when do you want to get married? We can check for auspicious dates.’
‘We thought November sometime?’
His mother clicked her tongue. ‘That’s a bit rushed.’
‘Is it?’ Given the pressure, he’d assumed they’d have wanted it done as quickly as possible.
‘I suppose her parents are okay with that,’ said his mother, thoughtfully. ‘I mean, neither of you is exactly young. You’ll want to get married and start your family sooner rather than later.’
A Convenient Marriage Page 16