A Sahib's Daughter (28 page)

Irene was more than a little apprehensive about the “foreigner” Justin was marrying. She was glad he’d found happiness again, though slightly concerned at the speed with which he proposed to her. They’d known each other such a short time. But Justin had always been impetuous. As soon as he set his heart on something, he had to have it right there and then. She remembered how he’d proposed to Lorraine out of the blue, when he was offered the job in the tea garden. But she knew they’d been happy and had some idea of the desolation he must have experienced mourning Lorraine the past three years.

Some of her apprehensions about Samira were allayed when she saw her walk down the airport ramp. Her coloring was like any Irish girl’s, her foreignness only slightly discernable in her exotic eyes. Justin looked his old happy self, so unlike the haunted figure that arrived at their door three years ago. They never saw Lorraine’s parents, Bernadette and Toby anymore. There was nothing left to connect them. Furthermore, she was disconcerted by the insinuation they conveyed that somehow Justin had fallen short in his responsibilities to Lorraine. That Justin had now found someone else would further fuel their disapproval.

There was a distinct chill in the air, even though it was the middle of summer. They all piled into Edward’s Ford Cortina, and Samira surveyed the dreary landscape that rolled past her. It was bleak, despite the domesticity of the patchwork of fields, the trimmed hedges and cozy cottages with smoke rising from their chimneys. They sped through the outskirts of Belfast, with its great battalions of high-rise tenements plastered with grim slogans and streets of crumbling brick houses huddled together.

No wonder Justin felt a need to get away from this, Samira thought to herself, shuddering a little. Sensing her disquiet, he reassured her,

“Newcastle is nothing like this, darling. It’s a lovely wee town, and although our Mourne Mountains are nothing like the Himalayas, they’re the highest mountains in the North. They plunge right down to the sea, which is a pretty spectacular sight.” She noticed that his inflections and his vocabulary had already changed, becoming more regional after only a few minutes with his family.

He was right. The view became more scenic as they approached Newcastle, although the mountains and the sea were a landscape of gray. Edward promised that when the sun shone the sea would be blue as the sky on a summer’s day.

“But this is a summer’s day,” Samira thought to herself. “It’s the middle of August.” Justin had warned her it could get as cold as Darjeeling in the autumn, so she came prepared with thick sweaters to wear with her jeans.

As they drove through the quaint town, Irene pointed out their little home bakery with the sign that Justin had installed. He noticed that it already needed repainting and inwardly groaned, realizing how he would be spending much of his time. Finally, they arrived at their home which was built on a cliff in the eastern lea of the mountains.

Samira was exhausted. After a tour of the house, she asked to be excused so she could take a nap.

“Are you okay?” asked Justin, slightly concerned. It was not like her to be tired.

“I’ll be fine in a few minutes. I’m worn out from the flight and the journey. Please don’t worry. You can catch up on all the news with your folks while I rest.”

She’d been given her own room, just as Justin predicted. Irene would not have people cohabiting “in sin” under her roof. Samira discovered that it felt actually rather pleasant to be on her own. She was more untidy than Justin and seemed to have a lot more possessions. The room was spotlessly clean and very feminine. There were yellow curtains in the window overlooking the sea. On the bed was a yellow candlewick coverlet and flowered sheets that matched the daisy wallpaper. She hoped she wouldn’t spill or break anything.

She fell into a deep sleep. The next thing she knew, Justin was sitting on her bed feeling her forehead. She smiled, feeling better, and drew him down to kiss her.

“Steady now,” he warned. “Don’t be starting something we can’t finish.”

“Maybe you could sneak into my bed in the middle of the night,” she suggested, slyly. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

“I might just do that,” he said. “You temptress! Now, how about joining us all in the living room? We’re about to have a drink before dinner.”

The next morning, they visited the bakery after a huge breakfast. Justin had driven Edward there earlier, so they would have use of the car. Edward didn’t bake anymore and bought everything in. It had become too arduous for them to mind the shop in addition to baking. They hired someone to help in the afternoons, which made it a whole lot easier, though not as profitable.

“This place has been the bane of my life,” Edward grumbled. “I can’t sell it or let it. I wish to god I’d never set eyes on it.”

Justin knew what he was hinting at. Edward lived in hope that he would leave tea and take over the shop. His older brother had made it clear that he would never return. He now spoke with an English accent and boasted of the money he made, though he never parted with a penny of it or raised a finger to help his parents.

Irene was unsure what to make of Samira. It was clear that she was much younger than Justin, something that concerned her more than she would have thought. She believed that the best relationships were among couples of equal age and attractiveness. And Justin was certainly handsome, especially in his mother’s eyes. It was just that Samira had such a glow and an air of class about her. From what Justin said, her father came of fairly humble beginnings. Perhaps her Indian mother was a princess or whatever they called them in that part of the world. She wouldn’t admit it to anyone, not even Edward, but she would have been more comfortable if Justin had fallen in love with an Irish woman, or even an English girl, as long as she wasn’t Catholic, of course. The awful thought struck her that perhaps Samira was Catholic or maybe a Hindi or whatever that Indian religion was called. She wasn’t sure which would be worse. She would have to ask Justin later.

Samira toyed with her food at lunch.

“I need to get some exercise and walk some of this off. Or perhaps play some tennis. The food here is much richer than what I’m used to.”

“Maybe you could take a walk this afternoon,” suggested Justin, “while Dad and I pick up the rental car.”

“You’re slim as a reed,” said Irene, looking at Samira’s figure. “I don’t know what you’re blethering on about.”

“Mother!” said Justin. “Speak English! She doesn’t know what that means.”

“But I have a good idea,” interjected Samira. “Don’t listen to him, Ma.”

Irene was charmed, softening towards her. If she couldn’t persuade Justin to have the wedding here, she would be sure to throw a big party to show everyone how well her son had done. She always thought they were all peasants in India, but obviously there were sophisticated people there, too, perhaps even more sophisticated than here.

Justin drove off to pick up Edward, while Samira went for her walk. She was disappointed thinking they could have picked up the rental car together and maybe grabbed a drink in one of the little pubs. It was another gray day with a brisk breeze that blew down the mountains and whipped up the seas below. She hadn’t gone far before it started to rain. She made her way back indoors and watched television with Irene, then excused herself and read a book in her room. She didn’t know any of the British programs and was not in the habit of watching television. The time seemed interminable. She wondered what was keeping the men so long. At eight o’clock, Irene said that they may as well eat, she wasn’t going to wait any longer. When they finally rolled home, Samira realized with a shock that the men were both drunk.

“Hello, wee girl!” cried Justin, merrily. “Och, come on, don’t give me that sour face. We were just having a drink together. Father and son. Right, Da? Father and son!” He stumbled, and Irene caught him before he could fall. Edward, who knew better than to rile his wife, went into their room and passed out on the bed.

Samira said goodnight to Irene, leaving her to deal with her son. This was something outside her realm of experience. She had not realized that Justin could be like this. But perhaps he and his father were just happy to see each other and were celebrating his return. She tried to be reasonable going down to breakfast the next morning. Needless to say, Justin didn’t sneak into her room during the night. He’d collapsed on top of the bed and woke with a splitting headache.

Edward went to the shop as usual at eight, and they realized that they’d left the rental car at the pub the night before. So Samira and Justin missed the appointment Irene had made to look at the house she’d picked out for them to rent. Just before lunch, the landlady called to say she’d let the house to people who bothered to show up. She said she had another house available and didn’t have time to show it, but they could have it if they wanted. The rent was lower than that of the original house.

“And it’s in a better location. Sometimes, your miss is your mercy,” said Irene. “What d’you think? Do you want it? She needs to know now.”

Samira was angry and upset and didn’t care anymore. Justin had a splitting head and just wanted to go back to bed.

“We’ll take it,” he said, so Irene told the landlady that they would rent it for five months from the first of September. It was a two-story house on Tullybrannigan Road close to the center of town. They drove by that afternoon, and it was charming and full of rustic character.

Samira couldn’t wait to move in and to have some privacy with Justin. He seemed different when he was with his parents. He sulked and was moody, not at all like the Justin she was used to. Irene was charming but obviously accustomed to having the house to herself. Samira felt she was an intrusion. Irene was forever fussing and cleaning behind them.

The following morning, she discovered at breakfast that the men had left to go fishing at the crack of dawn when she was still asleep.

“Justin didn’t say anything to me about it,” she said to Irene. “I would have liked to go, too.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t want to sit out in the cold in a wee boat all day long,” said Irene. “You can come with me for coffee at my friend Alana’s instead.”

The smell of the eggs Irene was frying suddenly made Samira nauseous. She jumped up and ran to the bathroom to throw up. Irene knocked on the door, concerned.

“Samira, I think you should see a doctor. It’s not right that you should be sick like this. Maybe you have some sort of bug.”

She scarcely dared to hope that it might be for another reason, not minding the fact that they weren’t yet married in the least.

She made an appointment with Dr. Gibbons, and Justin drove Samira to his surgery the next day. It took the old doctor no longer than five minutes to examine her and pronounce her pregnant.

“I’ll need a urine sample and will run some blood tests just to make sure everything’s okay, though I see no cause for concern. Congratulations, my dear!”

Chapter 23

Northern Ireland, 1978

Samira was stunned by what Dr. Gibson told her. She was pregnant, nearly two months pregnant! She’d failed to recognize the symptoms because she’d never even considered such a thing or even known anyone who’d been pregnant. She always used protection except for, well, there were a few times when they hadn’t, including their first time at the Planters Club two months ago. In the waiting room, Justin was reading a magazine.

“Did he give you a prescription?” he started to ask her, till he saw her face.

“What is it? What’s wrong? Are you ill?”

“No, not ill,” she said, not knowing whether to be happy or dismayed. “I’m pregnant, Justin. We’re going to have a baby!”

He went pale with shock, jumped up and grabbed her with both hands. Samira was surprised by the intensity of his reaction.

“You’re sure? Is that really what he said? Are you sure?”

“Well, he said he would run some tests to make sure the baby and I are both okay, but he seemed very sure.” They got into the car and Justin drove back to his parents’ house full of uncertainty. He never said a word. It seemed clear to her that he was not happy about the baby. Maybe it was because they weren’t married, but surely that didn’t matter these days? They were going to be married soon, in any case, and maybe they could bring the date forward. Irene would understand, thought Samira. She must have known that they had been intimate, even though she didn’t want them sleeping together under her roof.

Irene was anxiously awaiting their return. Justin asked Samira if she wanted to go and rest in her room, rather than join them.

“Well, of course I want to join you!” she said. “I’m not sick. And I want to be there when we tell her our news.”

“Samira, how are you? How did it go?” asked Irene, as they walked into the room. “Is it your stomach?”

“Yes, I guess it is, in a funny sort of way,” Samira said. “We have great news. But I think Justin should be the one to tell you.”

“Ma, she’s pregnant,” said Justin, white-faced. “We’re going to have a baby.”

“What is the matter with you?” cried Samira, seeing his distress. “Aren’t you happy? Don’t you want us to have a baby?” She ran to her room in tears, still in shock herself and deeply upset that he didn’t seem to want their child.