by Fern Britton
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.
31
Pendruggan, 2018
‘Way-hay,’ shouted Rosemary as the bottle of house champagne went off with a loud pop. ‘You’re just in time!’
Sennen, arriving back at the table having tried to repair her face, put her shoulders back and decided to be the happiest of mums, for Ella’s’ sake.
‘Get me a glass,’ she ordered.
The other diners, couples old and young, families the same, watched and couldn’t help but be cheered by the obvious happiness emerging in front of them. Sennen took her filled glass and raised it to the room. ‘Please celebrate the engagement of my elder daughter, Ella Tallon to the handsome Kit …’ She realised she didn’t know his surname.
‘Beauchamp,’ Kit said helpfully.
Sennen inclined her head towards him in thanks. ‘Yes, Kit Beauchamp. He is to marry my daughter, and I couldn’t be more pleased. Would you be kind enough to raise your glasses …’ She acknowledged the beer and wine drinkers. ‘Your beakers …’ She smiled at the younger children. ‘And your cups …’ She winked at the older customers. ‘And now – to Ella and Kit!’
The room responded with a cheering, ‘Ella and Kit!’
‘Thank you.’ Sennen sat down. ‘Well, that’s got you two off to a good start I should say.’
Gradually the champagne bottle emptied and Sennen insisted on settling the bill. Finally, Kit and Ella said their grateful goodbyes, leaving Rosemary and Sennen among the debris of the table.
‘Cocktail?’ asked Rosemary after Sennen’s credit card had been returned.
‘Why not? I have had more to drink on my return to Trevay than I’ve had in sixteen years in India, and I like it.’
She couldn’t have told you what time she got back to White Water that night, other than that it was very late.
She peeled off her clothes and dropped them on the floor, then in the bathroom, held the sink unsteadily with one hand as she cleaned her teeth with the other. Her make-up she ignored. In bed, she pulled the duvet up to her chin and fell asleep immediately.
She dreamt of the day she had told Kafir the truth about herself.
She had got home after collecting Aali and Sabu from school, to find the multi-addressed envelope in the hall. Her heart plummeted when she saw the postmark: Cornwall.
It could only be bad news, she knew. Mum or Poppa must be ill?
In the dream, she relived the moment she had taken the letter into her bathroom and locked the door to read it. The torment of grief that overwhelmed her, reading of her parent’s deaths, hit her again. She saw Kafir’s beautiful face switch from love to betrayal as she told him the truth.
He had shaken his head, disbelieving her.
‘How could you deny the existence of your own children? To me?’
He had stood tall over her as she knelt at his feet in supplication.
‘I thought I knew you,’ he said, barely believing. ‘What else do you have in your box of lies?’
She grabbed his knees. ‘Nothing. I promise. Please, Kafir.’ But he had swiped her away as if she were nothing more than a fly. ‘Go home. To Cornwall. Make your peace. Apologise to your children and hope that they forgive you. But know that to find your past you may have lost your future.’ His words were like ice and he chilled her blood as he continued, ‘I must protect Aali and Sabu. I will tell them you have returned to England and we don’t know when you will return. Tonight you will leave this house. Stay in a hotel, if you must, but you must go.’
She had woken sweating and shouting, ‘No Kafir. No.’
She sat up in bed, alarmed, and tried to steady her breathing. She took a gulp of the water from the glass on her nightstand.
She knew what she had to do, and by God she would do it.
She was up early and made sure she was looking her best. Downstairs, she had the briefest of breakfasts before dialling Ella’s number.
‘Hello,’ answered Ella, sleepily.
‘Hi, darling. It’s Sennen – Mum.’
‘Hi. You’re up early.’
‘Early bird catches the worm and all that, so I wondered, if you were doing nothing else today …’ She took a deep breath to keep her resolve strong. ‘If you might like to go wedding dress shopping. With me?’
‘Oh.’ Ella sounded unsure.
‘If you’re busy, I quite understand,’ said Sennen, backing off.
‘No, that would be great. I haven’t even thought about it to be honest. We haven’t even set a date.’
Sennen heard Kit’s voice, drowsy and mumbling, ‘Who is it?’
Then Ella, speaking off the microphone, ‘It’s Mum.’
‘Is she okay?’
‘Yes, she wants to take me wedding dress shopping.’
‘Nice.’
Sennen came back louder again. ‘I’d love to, Mum.’
‘Any shops you can recommend?’
‘There’s a shop in Truro that someone told me about.’
‘Well then, let’s go to Truro. I can pick you up from your house?’
‘Okay.’ Ella reeled off the address. ‘Marguerite Cottage to the right of the church, down a little drive. Can you give me an hour to get ready?’
The next hour was sixty minutes of impatient agitation for Sennen. She walked to the newsagents, bought herself a paper, sat in a coffee shop, ordered a cappuccino and attempted the crossword. She checked her phone, strummed her fingers, paid the bill and was finally on her way to Pendruggan.
As she drove into the heart of the village she could see why Ella loved it. The village green was like something out of a children’s picture book. There was the large farmhouse with its barns and milking parlour, the village stores next to the church and a row of attractive cottages, maybe two hundred years old, with slate roofs, well-tended gardens and pastel-coloured front doors.
She found Marguerite Cottage and, as she parked, Ella came bounding out of the front door, her red curls streaming behind her. She jumped into the passenger seat. ‘This is so unexpected and all the more exciting for it,’ she exclaimed. ‘Thank you, Mum. I never thought this would happen. Me and you. Wedding dress shopping!’
Sennen began to reverse the car. She had butterflies in her stomach. This was something she had never allowed herself to imagine. She glanced at her beautiful, loving, kind and forgiving daughter as she shifted the car into first gear and set off.
‘Thank you, Ella, for allowing me this,’ she said softly.
Ella was putting her bag by her feet. ‘Who else would I do it with?’
‘If I hadn’t have come back, you could have asked anyone.’
Ella turned to Sennen. ‘But anyone wouldn’t have been you.’
‘You know what I mean. I am a stranger to you really. We hardly know each other, so, thank you.’
‘Mum?’
Sennen slowed the car as she approached the junction to the main Truro Road. ‘Yes?’
‘We may not have spent my childhood together, but I do know you, even though I don’t, if you know what I mean?’
Sennen stopped the car, waiting for a break in the fast traffic. She put her left hand out to Ella who held it tight. ‘I do love you,�
� she said, her throat tightening with emotion, ‘and this is so special.’
A car arriving behind her beeped loudly. She waved into the rear-view mirror and mouthed ‘Sorry,’ to the agitated driver, then, kissing Ella’s hand, let it go and got on the road to Truro.
Parking in Truro took a little time, but once they’d got a space Ella quickly marched her to Truro Bridal Boutique. A petite young woman greeted them. ‘Do you have an appointment?’
Ella’s face dropped. ‘Should I have made one?’
‘It is recommended, but let me just check the book.’
Sennen held her crossed fingers in front of her face and Ella giggled. The assistant came back. ‘Yes, we have a spare hour right now. What sort of style are you looking for?’
Ella gave a little jump of joy. ‘It’s just like Say Yes to the Dress.’
‘What’s that?’ asked Sennen, catching her daughter’s joy but not understanding.
Ella explained.
‘Well, let’s do it!’
The assistant, who was called Erin, took them through the initial questions.
‘What sort of wedding are you having? Registrar’s office or church?’
‘Church,’ said Ella definitely.
‘And your budget for the dress?’
‘Oh. Erm … about …’ She hesitated, waiting for her mother to be shocked. ‘Seven hundred pounds?’
‘How much?’ said Sennen on cue. ‘I can make you one for a fraction of that.’
Ella went quiet. How could she tell her mother that she didn’t want a homemade dress?
Erin said diplomatically, ‘I think we can find something very beautiful for the bride within that budget.’
Sennen took the tacit rejection in her stride. She had lost the right, a long time ago, to give orders where Ella’s needs were concerned.
Erin whisked Ella away into a fitting room while Sennen found a tasselled and buttoned velvet chair and sat on it gingerly, testing its sturdiness under her weight. Gradually her confidence in its strength grew and she tried to make herself comfortable. She glanced around, taking in the ruffles and drapes, the deep pile carpet and the scented candle on the payment desk. There was a huge mirror on one wall with a circular platform in front of it. Presumably for the bride to stand on and admire herself in full rig.
