A Scandalous Secret. Jaishree Misra

hand. He dropped his voice. ‘And Mum knows it too. However, you must understand her distress at this sudden decision of yours to go to India, Sonya. It has come out of the blue a bit. Go on, darling, go in there, beg a compliment off her and you’ll both feel the better for it.’

      Sonya hesitated for a moment before returning to the living room. She stood at the door for a second before walking in. ‘I’m off, Mum,’ she said in a small voice. ‘Wish me luck. Stel’s even lined up a prize for best costume, you know.’

      Laura roused herself on the sofa and looked up at Sonya again. Taking in her daughter’s exotic beauty with nervousness she was eventually unable to prevent herself from melting at Sonya’s sheer loveliness. Laura patted the sofa next to her and said, ‘Come here, you.’ As Sonya approached, she added, ‘You really do look lovely, Sonya darling. Dad and I don’t mean to be nasty. It’s just that you don’t look like our little girl when you’re dressed up like that, you know … and, to be honest, I really can’t bear such a harsh reminder. Not at this time anyway. Just before you go off in search of her … you know what I mean …’

      ‘I know, I know, Mum,’ Sonya said, kneeling before her mother. ‘But it’s only a spot of fun, dressing up like this. It certainly doesn’t mean I’m trying to become someone else. Or make some kind of bid for acceptance by my birth family. Remember I’m always and only your little girl. I don’t need to keep telling you that no one else will ever matter to me as much as you and Dad, do I?’

      They held hands briefly as Sonya rested her cheek against her mother’s knee. Then she got up, fumbling awkwardly with the folds of her sari. ‘I’d better go easy with this thing,’ she said, ‘there’s about a million safety pins stuck around me to keep it in place and I must return it to Priyal without tearing it!’

      ‘Yes, I bumped into Priyal’s mum at Asda this morning … Mrs Guptee?’

      ‘Gupta,’ Sonya corrected.

      ‘Yes, Mrs Gupta. And she did go on a bit about how lovely you looked when you first tried these clothes on at her house. She kept saying “Stunning,” and that English women generally didn’t look right in saris. Well, she’s obviously never seen Princess Di and Jemima Khan when they wore them, has she? Why, even Cherie Blair didn’t look half bad in Indian costume, despite being a bit ungainly, so I don’t know what Mrs Gupta was on about.’ Laura hesitated for a moment before asking her daughter, ‘By the way, she doesn’t know, does she?’

      Sonya restrained herself from rolling her eyes upwards in exasperation again. She knew exactly what her mum was talking about and it both amused and saddened her to think that her beloved mother was feeling so threatened, even by a passing compliment from someone as harmless as Mrs Gupta. ‘No, she doesn’t know, Mum,’ she lied firmly, ‘and nor does Priyal. I’ve told you, apart from Stel and Tim, no one else knows why I’m going to India.’

      Laura looked marginally reassured. ‘Best keep it that way,’ she said, ‘after all we don’t know yet what’s going to happen once you’re there, do we?’ Then, taking a deep breath, she put on a bright air that did not convince Sonya at all. ‘Well, off with you then,’ Laura said. ‘Don’t forget to take the salads out of the fridge, and the marinated lamb chops. I’ve added extra Tabasco, just like Estella said. And have a lovely time, won’t you.’ Laura nodded gratefully at Richard who was standing in the doorway, already carrying the two large plastic boxes full of salad. ‘Oh, and let Dad know when you want picking up from the mill?’

      In the car, Sonya leaned over to give her father a peck on his cheek as he started the car. ‘What’s that for, Princess?’ he queried, although Sonya could see how pleased he was with the unexpected display of affection.

      ‘For always being such a skilled peacemaker. And for knowing exactly how to make both Mum and me feel instantly soothed.’

      ‘Ah, long years of practice,’ Richard said. ‘Don’t forget I grew up in a house full of women. Three sisters is enough to drive most fellers around the bend but, golly, what an education that was!’

      They drove to the outskirts of Orpington in companionable silence, Richard humming along to a Phil Collins track on Radio 2 while Sonya straightened her smudged eye make-up in the car mirror, unused as she was to wearing kohl rather than the customary eye-pencil. ‘So, what are you listening to these days, sweetheart? I notice you’ve put all your old Kurt Cobain CDs in that pile for Oxfam,’ Richard said suddenly.

      Sonya smiled. Dad tried with such sincerity to be matey and she had never had the heart to tell him that she wouldn’t be able to get through naming half the bands she listened to without having him keel right over in shock. She had, in fact, carefully hidden the new Fuck Jesus CD under her bed to minimize the chance of offending her very innocent and strait-laced parents. ‘Oh, nothing special, just this and that,’ she replied vaguely, looking out at the streetlights on the Sevenoaks Road. ‘The mill comes up somewhere here, Dad,’ she added. ‘We’d better slow down.’

      Richard peered through the dusk. A few stray raindrops were falling on the windscreen. ‘Oh dear,’ he said, ‘it’s been spitting and spotting like this all evening. I do hope it doesn’t start to pour and ruin your party! Now, if I remember, there’s a sharp bend in the road just before you see the sign for Wentworth Mill.’

      ‘Good memory!’ Sonya said. ‘It was at least six years ago that we all came here for that bread-making course.’

      ‘Well, I was here more recently with the Council on one of our team-building days so I should know where it is, really. Ah, and bingo, there we go!’ Richard swung the car onto a small dirt track that wound its way through an open field in which a few sodden sheep were grazing. They drove past a pond that sat next to the water mill and pulled up in a small yard where Estella’s Polo was already parked. Sonya disembarked, holding up the edges of her sari to prevent it from getting muddy.

      ‘Hey Bollywood princess, don’t you look just gorgeous!’ came a cry from the door where Estella was emerging in her stewardess cap and uniform.

      ‘Actually not such a great idea on a wet evening,’ Sonya replied, ruefully looking down at her shimmering clothes. She cast an envious look at Estella’s short skirt and flat-heeled pumps, ‘Look at you – not just smart but sensible too!’

      ‘Ah, but then that’s me all over: smart and sensible! Oh, and surely you merely forgot to say “sexy” too,’ Estella replied, twirling a plump leg in what she imagined was a coquettish manner before yelling a cheery greeting to Richard who was getting out of the far side of his car. Richard blew a kiss at her and then turned to get the salad and lamb chops out of the back seat. Someone – possibly one of the Wentworth cousins – came running out of the mill to help. He was dressed as a bishop but, as he heaved the boxes over his shoulder and carried them into the building, a pair of stout and very unbishoplike Doc Martens was revealed under his robes.

      Richard turned when another car pulled into the yard. Its four occupants – Spiderman, Wonder Woman, a vicar and a tart – emerged amidst a hail of raunchy greetings. It was definitely time to go. Richard waved to Sonya and Estella before climbing with haste back into his car, grinning widely as he reversed. ‘Have fun, girls, and be good!’ he said, rolling his window back up before driving off.

      Sonya followed the others into the bakery part of the mill, which is where the food and drink were to be laid out in the event of rain. Estella’s mother ran a small artisan bread business from the premises, supplying local restaurants and delis with her popular sourdough bread. Mrs Wentworth had obviously been baking furiously for the party as Sonya could see piles and piles of crusty rolls and her famous giant white bloomer loaves at one end of the table.

      Unable to sustain the demure Indian look for very long, Sonya was swigging her second can of Corona when Timothy arrived. His face brightened as it always did when he saw her but, because his Roman toga was too long, he stumbled on the top step of the mill while stepping over the threshold in a pair of outsized gladiator sandals. What would have been a nasty tumble was fortuitously stopped by his colliding with Wonder Woman, which led to both of them falling in a giggling