He watched the blue sea lap against the shore, depositing a stripe of white foam. A group of small boys ran in fully dressed, splashing one another. There were wooden boats around him, upturned, the fishermen having already been out to sea and returned with their haul of fish. He could smell it on the barbecues in the shacks along the beach. Soon the tourists would descend, in their brightly colored beach wraps and beads, to eat supper and drink beer from the bottle.
The sun was setting and the sky was already striped with ribbons of fuchsia and orange, like a woven sari. Palm trees reached out like hands to touch the magnificent sky. A rainbow of scarves, sarongs and towels hanging from the beach huts billowed in the breeze.
Arthur stood and walked to the edge of the water. The sand felt like warm dust beneath his feet. In one hand he clasped the elephant charm tightly, and in the other he held his half-read book: A Rough Guide to India.
It had been a difficult decision to choose Goa over Australia. But he needed to come to where his journey had begun, from the phone call he had made to Mr. Mehra. It had changed how he saw his wife, how he saw himself.
He and Lucy had already arranged to go and spend Christmas with Dan. That suited his daughter better, when she could travel in the school holidays.
He opened his hand and the gold elephant shone. As the sun began to dip farther, sinking into the sea, the light slid over the charm and Arthur could swear that the elephant winked at him. “You are getting old,” he said aloud to himself. “Seeing things.” Then he noticed that he hadn’t said, You are old. He had said, You are getting old. He was just on the way there.
“Mr. Arthur Pepper. Mr. Pepper.” A small boy, no more than six years old, ran toward him. He had ears that looked like cup handles and a thatch of black hair. “Sir. It is time for tea back at the house.”
Arthur nodded. He made his way back to the sun lounger, slipped on his sandals and followed the boy off the beach. They passed a cow that stood chewing the frayed leather on the seat of a rusting red motorbike. “Follow me, sir.” The boy led them both through a heavy turquoise iron gate and into a courtyard garden. After having arrived in darkness the previous night, Arthur was glad for an escort back to his host.
Rajesh Mehra stood waiting by a small fountain that was studded with mosaics. Water trickled and looked like flowing silver. A small round table had been laid with a silver teapot and two china cups. He was dressed all in white and didn’t have one hair on his head. His eyes were hooded and kind. “I still cannot believe that you are here, my friend. I am so glad you came to stay with me. Are you enjoying your sunbathing?”
“Yes. Very much so. I’ve never been quite so warm before.”
“It can be stifling. Now, it is not so bad. Miriam used to like the sun. She said that she was like a lizard and she needed the sun to warm her bones.”
Arthur smiled. She’d said the same thing to him. At even a hint of sun she would lie in the garden with a magazine and soak up the rays.
They took their tea in the courtyard. “I am a creature of habit,” Rajesh said. “I like to have my tea at the same time each day. I like my newspaper folded in the same way and I take precisely thirty minutes to sit and read.”
“Then I am spoiling your routine.”
“You are not spoiling it. You are enhancing it. It is good to shake things up.”
Arthur told Rajesh about his own routines, how they had started as a comfort and became a prison. He was about to say that a very nice lady named Bernadette had helped him out of it. But it was he himself who had done it. He had found the bracelet. He had called Mr. Mehra. He was responsible for the change in his life.
“I remember that Miriam was not one for routines. I think she was a free spirit,” Rajesh said. “I think she was a special lady. Did she have a good life?”
Arthur didn’t hesitate. “Yes,” he said proudly. “She looked after you. She played with tigers. She inspired a poem. She influenced great art. She was a fantastic mother. We truly loved each other. She was remarkable.”
He waited for Rajesh to pour his tea, then he took a sip. The china cup was dainty and painted with tiny pink roses. Miriam would have loved it.
He and she had lived their lives in opposite directions. Miriam’s had been colorful and lively and vibrant but then quietened and calmed when she met him. He in turn had never wished for more than his wife and the children, yet here he was, his sandals white from sand and his ankles suntanned. It was unexpected, invigorating. And his wife had led him here.
“I shall take you to see her room, yes?”
Arthur nodded, a lump rising in his throat.
Her room was small, no longer than eight feet and around five feet in width. There was a simple low wooden bed and a writing desk. The walls were white plaster and there were holes where photos and paintings had been pinned over the years. He imagined her sitting at the desk, looking out of the window and laughing at the children playing in the courtyard, rolling marbles between her fingers. She could have optimistically written a letter to Sonny here, not knowing what terrible events would unfold when she got home.
He stood at the window and closed his eyes, allowing the falling sun to warm his face. The back of his neck was already pink and tingly, just as he liked it.
Just then his mobile phone vibrated in his pocket. “Hello. Arthur Pepper. How may I help you?” he said without looking at the screen. “Oh, hello, Lucy. I’m fine. Please don’t stay on too long. These mobile phones are very costly...Don’t worry about me, really. It is very beautiful here and Mr. Mehra and his family are very welcoming. I can imagine your mother here as a young woman. She must have felt so happy and free, her life ahead of her, like yours is now. Like mine is. We must enjoy it. It’s what she would have wanted...Okay, well, goodbye, darling. It’s so lovely to hear from you. Love you.”
He slipped the phone back into his pocket. Then he gave a small smile and left the elephant charm on the bed, back where it belonged. He walked back into the courtyard. “My daughter was on the phone,” he said. “She worries about me.”
“We worry about our children and then they worry about us,” Rajesh replied. “It is a circle of life. Enjoy it.”
“I will.”
“Did you know that Miriam and I walked to the village together each day? Our treat was to buy a fresh bread roll each and to pull the soft bread out of the center and eat it on the way back. One day I proclaimed my love for her and she was very sweet. She told me that, when I grew older, I would meet the love of my life and it would be the real thing. She was right, of course. Miriam said that she longed to find her own true love, too. ‘I won’t compromise,’ she told me. ‘I will only marry once. I will take it seriously and marry the man that I will spend the rest of my life with.’ I remembered her words when I met Priya and I felt that lightning bolt of love strike me in the chest. And I hoped that Miriam had found it, too. And of course she did, when she met you. She followed her heart.”
Arthur closed his eyes. He pictured the rows and columns of photographs that Dan and Lucy had arranged in his front room. He saw Miriam smiling, happy. He saw the words in her letter to Sonny. “I’m proud that I was the one for her, just as she was the one for me. I believe that her life was the one she chose to lead.”
Rajesh nodded. “Come. Let us walk.”
The two men walked back to the edge of the quicksilver sea. Behind them a line of fires shone from the beach shacks. The smell of barbecued fish hung in the air. Two dogs chased each other along the beach. Arthur kicked off his shoes and let the sea kiss his toes.
“To Miriam.” Rajesh raised his cup of tea in a toast.
“To my wonderful wife,” Arthur said.
Then they stood and watched as the orange sky darkened to indigo and the sun finally sank into the sea.
* * * * *
Acknowledgments
First, hats off to superagent Clare Wallace for her insight, expertise and all-round loveliness. Also, to all at Darley Anderson for their warm welcome and support—especially Mary Darby, Emma Winter and Darley himself. Thanks also to Vicki Le Feuvre for early feedback.
Behind every book is a great editor, and I am fortunate to have two of the best in my corner. To my UK editor, Sally Williamson, and to Erika Imranyi in the US, many thanks for your thoughtfulness, creativity and championing of Arthur. A special acknowledgment also goes to Sammia Hamer, who originally gave Arthur his home in the UK.
All the team at MIRA Books and HarperCollins have been wonderful, with fantastic input from Alison Lindsay, Clio Cornish, Nick Bates and Sara Perkins Bran, to name just a few.
To friends who read an early draft of this book without rolling their eyes, thanks to Mark RF, Joan K, Mary McG and Mags B.
My mum and dad have always encouraged my love of books and reading, so to Pat and Dave—this couldn’t have happened without you!
The biggest shout-outs go to Mark and Oliver for supporting me on every step of this journey, believing it was possible and for always being there.
Thanks also to my friend Ruth Moss, whose bravery and spirit of fun I think of often.
ISBN-13: 9781459293908
The Curious Charms of Arthur Pepper
Copyright © 2016 by Phaedra Patrick
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The Curious Charms of Arthur Pepper Page 27
