by S L Lewis
Bombay Mixx
A Novel by S. L. Lewis
eBook Edition
Copyright © 2012 by S. L. Lewis
www.bombaymixx.com
Published by Big Bang Books
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-9572969-1-6
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted
in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or
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In dedication to a very special woman, my Grandma Dacres.
Bombay Mixx
Chapter One – New Pastures?
‘You need to give your sister a hand with her packing,’ my mother shouts, ‘I’m busy organising my own life and she can do it herself! She never helps me with anything,’ my sister replies. It was like an army major shouting at his troops to get up! So before I hear the alarm, I make my way downstairs still half asleep.
Even before I get to the kitchen I heard the usual voices although there was one new one; however, my mind gets distracted with the sound of loud pop music and the smell of eggs, toast and coffee, ‘Yum, just what I need after last night’s affair,’ I thought as I walked in.
‘Morning sweetheart, sleep well? Meet Ann, she’s your mother’s friend who you need to report to tomorrow morning,’ my father said in his thick Indian accent. It’s amazing that he’s been here for many years, in the thick of East London but he has still retained his accent. I loved this about him.
The woman stood up like a guard at the gates of the palace and introduced herself with authority.
‘Hello Nita, my name is Ann Lough and I will be your supervisor when you start work at AG Cathal, so I expect you to be on time, dressed appropriately (as she said this she looked at my bed head, Prodigy ripped t-shirt and crinkled cut un-ironed jogging bottoms, which I’ve had since I was a teenager and proud that I can still get into them!) and willing to work very hard.’
I looked at my mother for support, thinking this woman had had one too many of my father’s extra strong, put hairs on your chest coffees, but unfortunately all I got was the look of ‘you better be listening’ and at that moment I felt like I was 6 years old again getting told off for taking more cookies from the jar when mum said I couldn’t have any more.
Let me give you a little background on my parents.
My mother is called Niamh and is white Irish. I could tell that in her younger days my mother was a ‘looker’ because even now she gets attention from men her own age, much to my father’s annoyance. Blonde, slim and roughly around 5’6, she came over from Ireland when she was in her late teens to become a nurse but always planned to go back once she got her qualifications; then she met my father and decided to settle here. My mother is a lovely, kind woman but get on the wrong side of her and she will rip your head off (as all of us have experienced in the past!).
She is a very proud woman, who always wants the best for her family and will do anything for them, and her husband, as she had to fight very hard to get to where she is now with her family, career and marriage.
When she met my father (Parwez) (as the story is told later on in my life) she was on a night out with her work colleagues at the local pub near the hospital where she used to work and whilst she was waiting for a taxi to take her home, they struck up a conversation and he offered to wait with her whilst the taxi came. As my father worked close to the hospital, he used to see my mum all the time and after a few further encounters he asked my mother out on a date and she accepted.
He explained his situation after the 5th date and my mother decided to stand by him and wait.
My father’s situation was that he came over to England from Bombay to get an education about a year before he met my mother. He comes from a proud family where his father is hardworking and enjoys peace and his mother is the one who rules the household, demands respect and believes that she is usually right on all issues.
My father’s father had a friend who was already in the UK and they arranged for my father to work for him but also arranged for my father to marry his daughter, which he did but under protest. The marriage lasted just over a year before it ended in divorce. My father met my mother and they began an affair; once his divorce was finalised, he married my mother and a few months later my brother Renesh was born.
My parents never speak about how they got together (probably for good reason) but I know they experienced a lot of prejudice and family members disowning them because of the interracial relationship but this never affected their love for one another and when I was born they started their own taxi company and have never looked back.
I felt sorry for my father’s first wife because I don’t think she wanted to divorce but I’m guessing she got over it as after the divorce no one heard from her again.
I know that my father felt guilty about leaving this woman but I guess if you don’t love someone there’s only so much you can do before you finally snap.
As I thought about this, my thoughts were interrupted by my annoying sister, Gabrielle, doing her usual attention seeking routine, ‘mummy do you know whose house we’ve just got the contract to design?’ She paused for effect and everyone was waiting for her answer.
‘It’s that famous model who was in the news recently who was accused of slapping that waitress in New York for putting dressing on her salad!’
‘Ooooh, well done darling, keep it up,’ my mother replied as she gave her a congratulatory hug.
I hated the way she could get everyone to linger on her every word by doing her princess routine but I guess that’s our childhood sister hatred coming out in adult life!
My younger sister, Gabrielle and I have never got on.
I think this might have come from when we were younger and some of my father’s family who we were in contact with at the time gave me more attention than Gabrielle due to the fact that they believed that as I was lighter skinned and, therefore, prettier. This must have given her a complex which is why my mother and father spoiled her more to compensate for the cruel remarks she would get from them.
Gabrielle got used to being spoilt and although throughout the years my parents spoilt her less and less, she still got priority over where we went to eat, what clothes she would like, her curfew being extended and how long her friends could stay over.
This used to annoy me and we would have constant fights, which my calmer brother, Renesh, would always find funny and break up. My parents just had enough of our bickering and stated that if we wanted to kill each other then go for it, just don’t make a mess otherwise my mother would find us in the afterlife, beat us herself and bring us back to clean it up…nice, huh?
Gabrielle was never satisfied just being spoilt though. She built up such resentment of me; she would then pick on my insecurities, mainly my weight.
Through my teenage years, I was a normal, happy teenager, who cared more about getting out of the house than what I looked like.
I was a UK size 8, I was and still am 5’6 but I had a curvy figure which I knew meant that in the next few years the rest of my body would fill out to catch up to the curves and they did.
My mother always told us we were beautiful and tried to instil confidence in us and our bodies, but whilst you have Satan at your side throwing many jibes, you start to wonder.
I went on a few diets when I saw my weight increase but none of them worked because as soon as I smelt my father’s fantastic curries and my mother’s buttermilk scones, I knew I was fighting a loosing battle and quite often wa
ved the white flag before I’d even started!
Throughout the years, I learnt to accept my weight and just ignored Gabrielle’s comments but I still look in the mirror (like any woman does) and start to think that it would be nice if I could just change this bit then I would be happier but as my mother says, ‘it’s just a myth, your never 100% happy with your body no matter what you do to it. So amend your thinking to say that body beautiful isn’t looking like every other stick insect out there, it’s understanding your body and using what you have to feel and look sexy outside and in.’
Currently, I’m a size 12, curvy figure, long black straight shoulder length hair, green eyes and full lips and I’m happy with what I’ve got and try to tell my sister to be the same, but she’s not the best at taking advice from anyone, especially me!
Gabrielle has an olive complexion (which I find beautiful but she was darker when she was younger). She’s roughly a size 8–10, bobbed cut highlighted hair, brown eyes, and full lips and is about 5’5. She loves her fashion labels and never leaves the house without looking immaculate, the complete opposite to me!
My sister loves money and would never date a man who earns less than £40k a year. That is why she is extremely happy at the moment as she feels that she has one up on me; she has a good career, she’s dating a man called John who is training to become a lawyer and is nearly at her wage criteria and he adores her.
My situation is very different.
I have accepted a job as a secretary in a big stockbroker’s company in the city, which my mother set up for me through her friend, army major, Ann. I decided to accept this offer because I had just spilt up from my long term boyfriend after finding out he had been cheating on me for the last two years, and my career was going nowhere fast.
My parents have a few properties across London and decided to let me live in the apartment they have in Holloway if I agreed to live with my sister (much to her distaste!). I agreed and after gradually moving some of my things over throughout the last two weeks, the final bits of clothes and shoes are moving today, if only my sister would help, but I can’t see that miracle happening so I’ll get my lovely brother to help instead.
Renesh is very much like my father, in looks and personality. He is 30 years old but seems to be mature beyond his years. Peaceful, calm and a diplomat, he never argues and always seems to find the good in people.
He has my father’s strong features, light complexion, straight black hair, muscular build (as he loves the gym) and is 6’2.
He is always the one me and my sister go to when we need to talk, bitch about each other or need help.
Renesh is married to his university sweetheart, Shilpa, but his marriage seems to be under pressure as he has limited time with his wife because she is a trainee doctor and spends a lot of time at the hospital.
My mother recognised his dilemma early in his marriage and tried to talk to him, but Renesh is a very proud man and just says that everything is fine, to avoid the conversation.
As everyone continues to congratulate Gabrielle about her successes, I head for the food and ask my brother if he would help me with moving. ‘Sure I’ll help, especially if that Russian girl is still living there. Wow, now there’s a lady you would never say no to!’ Renesh says whilst laughing.
As the food gets devoured and the praising dies down, I set off to pack the last of my clothes and head towards my new life as an independent, city slicker…well after accepting the £200.00 gift from my father and the “essential, I’m moving out” food package from my mother (even though I was only moving about 30 minutes away).
**********
The flat seemed bigger than I remember and there was no one home, which made it easier for me to settle into my new home.
Used wine glasses, with lipstick stains on the rim, Japanese take away boxes in the fridge and towers of fashion magazines on the coffee table decorated the flat and I was happy that this was my new home.
As I settled into my bedroom, I heard noises coming from the front room so I investigate.
‘Oh it’s you again. Hello. Has your sister moved in yet?’ said this strong Russian accent. After a few flirty giggles from my brother, I ejected myself from the bedroom to see who made my brother laugh like that.
She was tall and slim, with long blonde hair, piercing blue eyes and sharp features. She was dressed like a lady but one that meant business. ‘Hey hon, have you settled in ok?’
‘Yep, just got to unpack but that’s it,’ I replied as I observed the apartment.
Gabrielle moved into this flat a year ago so I already knew her flatmates and became good friends with them but more so with Anya as I always felt our personalities complimented each other. Where I have the calm, laid back, patient persona, Anya has aggressive, assertive, bold characteristics, which are great traits to help you survive in London.
‘So are we going to celebrate with a glass of champagne?’ Anya asked whilst getting the bottle out of the fridge. Renesh looked at her in delight and I knew that whatever she asked him he would say yes so I went with the flow.
As we sipped glass after glass of champagne, the small talk began to progress. Renesh flirted more with Anya and she batted away his advances with short, sharp remarks, which seemed to entertain him more and I was happy when Amelia came home.
‘Nita, finally you’re here!’ she said as she ran over to give me a hug. ‘This is now officially the party flat,’ she announced as she got another bottle of champagne and we continued the celebrations.
The festivities continued for the next few hours and even with the arrival of Gabrielle and her smart comments about flat rules and trying to show her authority, we conquered 3 bottles of champagne, whilst gossiping about friends, boyfriends, possible future partners and changes. We then went on to devour some sushi and destroyed 3 boxes of expensive chocolates Anya got from one of her clients.
As it approached midnight, I thought I should go to bed as I could feel my tipsy, happy head turning into a drunken one and I could feel myself reaching for the phone to call the bastard who was probably snuggling up to the leggy blonde he was shagging and exposing all over town while I was at home waiting for him to call and accepting his, ‘I’m really busy,’ excuses!
I picked up the phone, started to dial the number - then…I saw daylight!
**********
I couldn’t believe it, I fell asleep with the phone in my hand and it is now 7.30am…I have 30 minutes to get ready and leave! I look like I’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards and I’ve got bags under my eyes bigger than a years shopping at Asda!
Ok, focus Nita! You need to iron your clothes, get a shower, remove the fraggle hairstyle and hit the make-up with gusto like a make-up counter lady who just won’t take no for an answer when they are trying to shotgun you with bright make up that doesn’t come near to blending with your natural tones, that’s why they look toxic orange with scary Stepford wives smiles.
As soon as I got to the bedroom door, I heard a sound which made my brain realise that it was pointless trying to plan the next 30 minutes of brutal beauty preparations because that bathroom door was now closed tighter than my ex boyfriends wallet!!!
Gabrielle must have heard me surface and ran straight into the bathroom. Now this wouldn’t usually be such a bad thing if it was any of the other girls, but my sister is the worse for coming out of the bathroom quickly and insists that it is her right to use all the hot water, regardless of whether or not it takes at least 10 minutes to heat back up!
Normally, I try to ignore her selfishness but today was a new start to my life so I wanted to see what would happen when the other girls realised who was in the bathroom.
I walked out into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee and to start my day with a bit of sisterly stirring. I was happy when I saw Amelia coming out of her bedroom heading towards the bathroom.
‘Morning Hun, how did you sleep?’ she said whilst sleep walking.
I started to pour the hot black
tar into my huge mug, ‘I slept really well. The alcohol knocked me out, but no hangover which is surprising!’ I chuckled whilst I held my head.
She got to the bathroom door and tried it, ‘who’s in the bathroom?’ she asked knowing the answer.
‘Errrm Gabrielle’ I replied with an eyebrow raised. ‘Gabby, hurry up and don’t use all the hot water!’ she shouted at the door with impatience and authority in her sleepy voice.
I must ask her to teach me how to do that, I pondered as she came back to join me for a chat with Gabrielle emerging from the bathroom within 5 minutes of the ultimatum.
I was very impressed with my morning and I thought it was a great start to a new week and a new life…and how right I was.
On the packed tube where I was wedged under a stony faced businessman, who looked like his chauffeur was ill and that was why he had to ride the Tube with the commoners, and then I started to wonder (trying not to focus on the armpit I was wedged under or the skinny, pretty suited woman who would rather crush her ribs to squeeze herself onto the Tube, knowing there was not enough space to breathe let alone get her and her huge briefcase on with!), it’s 7.45am and I would expect to be smelling the sweet scent of flowery perfume that makes you think of summertime in the country, sexy, masculine aftershave that makes you think I would love to rip that shirt of your chest just to get a better smell and taste of that sexy aroma, but instead I was smelling… very strong coffee on breaths, sour sweat, cheap, over powering heady scented aftershave and sweet and sickly perfume which made your head spin if you got to close to the culprit!
