Destination India (17 page)

I smiled at his faux terrified expression, although I wouldn’t know who to put my money on in a fight between him and Ben. Both were tall, had muscles in all the right places, toned but not with over-the-top, vein-popping guns, and very hot.

‘No, no boyfriend.’

He dramatically let out a breath he had been holding and wiped his forehead. ‘Phew.’ He grinned.

Ben wasn’t my boyfriend and apart from the odd flirtatious comment or lingering glance I sometimes clocked from him, there was no suggestion he actually liked me. I then thought back to Serena – no doubt they would be working overtime, locked in our beautiful little shop and laughing over something before one thing led to another. My stomach turned at the thought.

‘You know, I’m sorry about the mistaken identity yesterday. You are just so similar to this woman I met a few weeks ago who was with her mate getting a visa for here,’ he said quietly.

‘Oh.’ I let out a weird laugh. ‘Strange.’

‘Mmm.’ He looked past me over the busy beach as if about to say something else then decided against it. ‘So, what is it you do then?’

‘For work?’

He nodded and confidently flicked off a fly that had landed on my scarf.

‘I’m a hairdresser.’ I was so grateful that none of the other guests had interrogated me too much about this white lie. I could barely use a pair of GHDs without burning my ear. ‘What do you do, when you’re not starring in a Bollywood film in Mumbai?’

Rahul laughed gently. ‘This certainly isn’t the norm, although I am used to being near cameras.’

Please don’t say you’re a part-time porn star.

‘I work in TV, behind the scenes mostly. It’s great as I can be on a job shooting anywhere, then when I’m not working I can head over here to see my family and get a bit of extra cash giving tours of my island.’

‘OK, on three, two …’ The runner cut me off from asking any more questions.

As if rehearsed, everyone including Ameera, Nihal and all the extras moved their heads closer and locked lips on the count of one.

Rahul gently cupped my jaw and tilted my head to the sun as I closed my eyes. His warm lips grazed mine for what felt like a millisecond before the music stopped and the director boomed down his microphone again.

‘Great work. We’ve got the shot. OK, thanks everyone.’

People started clapping, pulling away from their unplanned love interests. Flic was roughly wiping at her lips, looking as if she wanted to cough up phlegm into the sand. The Chinese man was grinning non-stop. Rahul winked at me as soon as the director told us the scene was finished and walked up the beach. I was left gazing after him. For some reason I wanted more; I knew the kiss was just for show and it wasn’t like a full-on snog, but the feel of his lips, the salty taste they left on mine and the way he certainly acted like he knew what he was doing made my stomach flip.

‘Thank God that’s over!’ Flic had stomped over to me. ‘I could have thumped that turd. I swear he tried to slip his snake tongue in,’ she said shuddering at the memory. ‘You OK, Louise?’

I glanced from Rahul who was laughing with one of the crew members to Flic. ‘Yeah, yeah fine. Come on, let’s go and get changed.’

It really had been ages since I’d been kissed; I shook my head, pulling myself together. If I was thinking silly thoughts about the smug Indian visa man, then I definitely needed to get my life sorted out. As we walked up the sand to the applause of the audience I realised that Ameera and Nihal were still full-on snogging. I didn’t know if they realised the director had called cut but after what felt like years of trying to get them back together, for them to finally see sense and stop with the bitchy break-up, I wasn’t going to be the person to tell them to stop.

The runner had seen them too. ‘This never happens. Usually the lead actors hate each other’s guts, desperate for the filming to end to get away from them,’ he said, nodding his head at the newly reformed couple. ‘The director wants to speak to them after they, you know, break for air; apparently he has never been so impressed with the acting skills of a pair of extras before.’

‘Oh, I don’t think they were acting.’ I smiled. He didn’t know the half of it.

Xanadu (n.) An idyllic, exotic or luxurious place

We were all on a high as we left the beach and found a small restaurant where we could rest our weary legs, have a drink and replenish our energy. I nipped to the toilet but was stopped from going back to my chair by Nihal who was waiting for me in the dimly lit corridor.

‘Oh hey, you – the star of the show!’ I smiled at him.

‘Hey, erm, I just wondered if we could have a chat,’ he said blushing. He seemed to have this glow, this aura around him, ever since we had started filming.

‘Sure, everything OK?’ I asked nervously.

He nodded. ‘More than OK! I wanted to thank you without the rest of the group hearing for bringing my love back to me. I guess you’re wondering what happened between me and Ameera?’

I shook my head. ‘Nihal, I get it. You messed up, she messed up, but you realised that you’d rather mess up together than mess up apart.’

Nihal smiled shyly. ‘She is
really
sorry about that blog post. So, I have a proposal to make. I wondered if it might be possible for the two tour groups to become one?’ He winced slightly waiting for my reaction. ‘Ameera has promised to delete the whole blog post tonight and can make a formal apology to the group if you like?’

‘No don’t do that. I don’t want them to know what has gone on in case they work out who I am. Maybe instead of deleting the post she could write another one saying she made it all up?’

‘OK, consider it done. She really does feel very embarrassed about it all.’
I bet she bloody does.
‘So, erm, about the two groups?’

I thought for a moment; technically I wasn’t responsible for the guests in Ameera’s group, but it seemed like she was probably going to follow us anyway and it was nice to have more people in the mix. ‘Fine by me.’

That evening was one of my favourite since arriving in India. Both tour groups were huddled around low tables in a busy restaurant, the buzz from the day’s filming, the taste of being a celebrity and the new romances that had sparked because of it were all everyone could talk about. The smells of coriander, aromatic spices and sounds of a sitar player became background noise to our excitable, rowdy bunch.

‘I’m defo putting that on my CV,’ Bex said talking with her mouth full.

‘I can’t wait for it to come on Netflix to make all my mates watch it, although I know they won’t let me live it down.’ Ollie winced then laughed.

‘I reckon I’ve got a new career as a Bollywood film star ahead of me,’ I said before giggling.

We laughed and chatted and laughed some more after the most random day. The only one who didn’t take part in the fun debrief was Chris. His tight, dour expression had barely broken all night. I couldn’t tell if he was kicking himself for not taking part or relieved that he hadn’t had to dress up like an idiot.

He cleared his throat and changed the subject. ‘What time is our flight tomorrow then?’

‘We’ve got another early start,’ Nihal said. We would be catching a morning flight to Goa as the Holi festival was starting soon. ‘And, we will be continuing the rest of the tour as one larger group.’

‘Fine by me,’ the chubby Chinese man said, practically licking his lips as he gawped at Flic who clenched her jaw and turned to face Rahul.

‘Are you coming too?’

He shook his head, ‘Nope, ‘fraid not. But I hope you all find what it is you’re searching for.’ I could have sworn he was directing that at me.

Even though I felt ready to go to Goa tomorrow my stomach lurched at the thought that it was the last leg of this trip. I’d been so focused on playing referee between Nihal and Ameera I hadn’t given much thought to how I was in the most spiritual country in the world. I hadn’t managed to focus on myself or my self-improvement – bar a half-naked holy man spitting at my feet. I didn’t feel like I had finished on my journey through India. All that faced me at home was being a raspberry to Ben and Serena’s loved-up coupledom. I knew I had to call him soon but truthfully I didn’t want to hear about how wonderful this woman was, and weirdly I was actually enjoying not thinking about work all the time. Maybe I was on the path to enlightenment after all.

It was quite amazing that Nihal had managed to herd everyone up, the two groups that had now merged into one, as we boarded our flight to Goa without any major incidents. The transformation in Nihal from the guy I had met just a few weeks ago was really astonishing: gone were the deep bags under his dull eyes; the spark was back in his voice; he seemed full of beans. The Nihal who I’d hired all those months ago, based on recommendations for his fun personality, was appearing right before my eyes.

I was relieved to be flying and not reliving the, ahem, joys of Indian train travel. Once was most certainly enough. We had just a few days left on the tour, and then I would be on my flight back to Manchester, jetting away from this group of mismatched but lovable personalities. A week ago I would have happily jumped on the plane home but actually, since Nihal and Ameera had patched things up and we were leaving the mayhem of Mumbai for the blissful beaches of Goa, I really didn’t want to leave. Not yet. Of course I missed Ben so much, and missed my business, but truthfully I was starting to feel more like myself.

More like the Georgia I’d become when I’d travelled solo around Thailand last year. The harassed version of me who’d boarded her flight to come to Delhi had softened, relaxed, left the stresses of running a new business behind, and instead of feeling flustered over finances or burnt out over bookings I could take this time to just be me. It was a feeling inside, like a tight knot that had somehow loosened. Strange really, as I hadn’t even known it was there. Maybe this was what I needed to get the confidence back that travel had given me in the first place. I sunk back into my seat and closed my eyes.

‘What are you smiling about?’ Bex asked, putting down the inflight magazine.

‘Nothing. Just thinking how much I love to be on the move. I can’t wait to see what Goa’s going to be like.’

‘Me either.’ She smiled.

I couldn’t help but notice that for nearly all of the flight Stefan had been casting glances at Bex. I nudged her. ‘I think you’re well in there.’

Bex shifted in her seat and cleared her throat. ‘Nah, you need to get a trip to the optician’s sorted, mate.’ She started
fiddling around with her iPod, brushing off the idea that she had a not-so-secret admirer.

‘Err, Bex, I swear he’s into you. I mean, he can’t stop gazing gooey-eyed at you for one thing,’ I said quietly.

‘Shush.’ She wafted her hand at me, her cheeks growing red.

‘What’s wrong? You don’t think he likes you?’ I questioned, tilting my head, wondering why she was so dismissive.

Bex let out a deep sigh and turned to face me. ‘Louise, when you’re a big girl like me you expect people to stare. I get that. But you don’t get cute, strapping German men staring in
that
sort of way. It’s fine; I know what I’m talking about.’

I went to protest, to tell her that size had nothing to do with it, when she raised a hand gently to stop me.

‘I’ve always been the curvy girl, the big-boned, bonny lass, or however you wanna call it. I’m Fat Bex and I know it. And I don’t want to change. I’m happy being this size; when I did try dieting – and trust me I’ve tried them all – I’d never been so bloody miserable. Being big suits me; it just doesn’t suit a lot of men out there.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well I had an ex who told me that I’d actually be quite pretty if I lost weight, another got too sick of his mates ribbing him for going out with a whale, and so many have given up on me when their “get Bex skinny” project has failed.’

‘Whoa. I never realised it would be such a problem,’ I said softly.

She placed a warm hand on my arm. ‘It’s fine; there are just a lot of very sizeist people out there. I’m comfortable with knowing that only James Blunt will ever think I’m beautiful.’ She laughed.

I looked back at Stefan’s seat; he had his headphones in and was gently nodding in time to the music.

‘I still think he fancies you. Maybe he is the one who will love you for you?’ I suggested.

Bex shrugged. ‘I don’t think that man exists and that’s OK. I’ve got a wicked family, awesome mates and if I’m meant to be the funny, chubby, single one for the rest of my life then so be it. I’m not giving up chocolate for anyone.’ She laughed.

I smiled back but I could read her like a book: under her confident demeanour she was as vulnerable as everyone else.

The short flight passed by quickly. Soon we were crammed into a stuffy minibus and trundling away from the airport, heading for our new beach home. With the windows flung open and the warm breeze carrying salty sea air tinged with exotic, perfumed flowers it felt like I could finally breathe here. It smelt like paradise. There wasn’t any of that frenzied chaos there had been in Delhi or Mumbai; here the roads were practically empty. Everyone seemed to have adjusted their speed settings to chill. Street dogs were snoozing under the shade of luscious palm trees, cows ambled down the quieter roads, twitching their tails and swatting flies, and unusual birdsong filled my ears. Shabby-chic, pastel-coloured houses, bright white churches and sunflower-yellow shops jumped out against the dusty red soil. The Portuguese influence here was evident in the detailed architecture and laid-back, siesta-time atmosphere.

The sun was beating down on us and everyone appeared to be in very high spirits. It felt like we’d reached a turning point on this tour. Even Chris seemed to have relaxed; his shoulders less bunched up around his bony neck. He snapped away with his very fancy-looking camera as the
roads broke into bumpy, dried-mud paths. I was slowly learning to give up control, letting Nihal take the lead, even if I did have to keep craning my neck to see where the driver was taking us. He bobbed his head to the beat of the energetic Indian music on his tinny radio, treating this as a Sunday drive.

‘OK, so just a little further and we’ll be at our accommodation.’ Nihal turned round in his seat and grinned at the group. He looked like he was desperate to tell some secret he knew, but when I glanced at him quizzically he just turned back round to face the front and quickly started up a conversation with the driver.

According to the itinerary we had booked a simple but pleasant hotel for the guests to stay in not far from the small town centre of this village, but judging by the way Nihal jiggled his knees and tapped his fingers along to the beat of the radio something else was being planned.
Oh, please don’t screw this up, Nihal,
I thought to myself. I could feel the familiar clench in my stomach I got when I didn’t have the faintest idea of what was coming next.

‘Wow, look!’ Flic shouted, flinging her arm right out of the window, almost touching a cow that was stood on the edge of the kerb and looking at us through deep brown eyes.

The group turned to look where she was pointing. We’d now left the tarmacked road and were struggling to get over a small hump on a winding dirt track.

‘What is it?’ Ollie asked leaning over me. ‘Is that where we’re staying?’

Nihal turned back round. This time his face had broken into a wide, excited smile. ‘It sure is!’

‘Cool!’ Bex cheered.

I tucked my head to look round Ollie, straining to see what everyone was looking at. Then I saw them. Rickety
beach huts lined the shore of the sandy beach with small verandas looking out to the lashing waves in the ocean, near mismatched reclaimed barrels that doubled up as seats and an open air restaurant in the centre of it all. It was an Indian version of the Blue Butterfly huts, a place I’d stayed in Thailand on the island of Koh Lanta, where I’d not only completed my travel wish list, met Shelley and the gang of original Lonely Hearts backpackers, but also where I’d met Ben.

‘You OK, Louise?’ Nihal asked, his brown eyes wide and nervous at my mute reaction.

I nodded and cleared my throat that had inexplicably become clouded with tears and emotion. ‘Yep. Yes, it looks great. Thank you.’

Nihal kept his worried gaze on me for a few seconds longer before telling the driver to stop a couple of metres ahead to let us out. The tour group clamoured out of the bus, stretching their sweaty limbs, exclaiming to one another how we had arrived in paradise. They weren’t wrong. The beautiful little cove of golden sand with rugged hills merging into the sea at either end was practically empty, bar a few upturned wooden fishing boats and a couple of smaller restaurants further on. Quickly counting the huts I realised that we had the whole place to ourselves.

‘You sure you’re OK?’ Nihal was back by my side as Ameera busied herself with getting everyone to grab their bags.

‘I’m great,’ I said genuinely.

I
was
great. Of course, who wouldn’t be, stood under the shade of an enormous swaying palm tree with their feet sunk in the soft-as-cashmere sand, looking out onto an unspoilt Indian beach? However, I knew I wasn’t showing the same level of enthusiasm as those around me, purely
because it felt strange to be here when Ben wasn’t by my side. How long would it be until I didn’t automatically think of him? I blinked back tears, happy tears definitely, I think, and squeezed Nihal’s arm softly.

‘You’ve done well. Look how excited everyone is.’ It was true. The tour group appeared wired with their constant chatter, laughter and posing for photos.

‘Thank you,’ Nihal said, and then turned to address the excited rabble of the group. ‘OK, guys!’ He clapped his hands and grinned. ‘So this is where we’ll be staying for the next few nights. After the noise and craziness of the cities we’ve visited, I figured you all deserve some relaxation time!’ People cheered. ‘The huts are for two people, have an en-suite bathroom
and
even have air conditioning.’ Another cheer. ‘So, please choose who you want to share a room with and go find a hut.’

I did a quick count in my head. With Ameera’s tour group we were now up to twelve people meaning I’d be sharing with someone. I quickly looked over to Bex who had buddied up with Liz, Ollie was with Lanky Stefan and Flic was with the quiet, frizzy-haired woman, whose name I think was Sarah. The Chinese man, Bo, had partnered up with another guy from Ameera’s tour leaving just Chris, Ameera, Nihal and me.