Jasmine Skies (27 page)

‘Didn’t you know I’m one big secret?’

‘Me and Janu . . . we kissed yesterday.’

For one moment she stops chewing long enough to let out a low whistle, but then she shakes her head as if she doesn’t quite believe me.

I nod to insist that it’s true.

Priya pulls an exaggerated ‘I don’t believe you’ face and then snuggles down next to me and pulls Nili’s sari quilt up over our heads, making a cosy tent. Her eyes are
shining brightly in the dark.

‘I knew it!’ she says. ‘The moment I saw you two together, there was something electric going on! I’ve got a nose for it. I told Paddy that Charbak liked her ages ago,
and she just laughed at me and now look at them!’

‘I just feel so guilty,’ I groan.

Priya gives me a sympathetic look, ‘Well, I suppose you can’t fight it. Are you going to tell Jidé?’

I pour out everything – how I’m going to tell him when I get home, how I’m scared I’ll lose his friendship forever . . . how my feelings for Janu have made me realize
that I will never feel like that about Jidé, even though I love him so much, and we know each other so well, and I hardly know Janu at all. It’s all such a mess!

When I can’t talk any more she pulls back the quilt and we sit up. ‘Wow! You’d better not say anything to Ma. I don’t know how she would take it,’ Priya warns
me.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, she might think Janu’s taken advantage of the situation . . . being older and everything,’ she explains.

‘But you know him. He wouldn’t. I
wanted
to kiss him,’ I admit.

‘But Ma might not see it like that. Anyway, you know
my
lips are sealed! Now back to sleep,’ she orders, dancing over to her wardrobe and plugging herself into her headphones.
I think about telling her about the girl with the haunting eyes, but she’d probably think I’m crazy.

I look down at my wrist and wonder where Nana Josie’s charm is tonight.

I’m sitting on the train with Janu. We have the whole compartment to ourselves. Then the door’s pulled open and standing in front of me is a young Nana Josie.
She looks so pretty! She smiles and walks over to us. She picks up my wrist to find it bare.

‘You gave away my good-luck charm,’ sighs the young girl Nana Josie sadly.

Janu looks up at her. ‘She doesn’t believe in luck,’ he tells her.

‘Still . . .’ Nana smiles. ‘It was a good instinct to give the girl my charm. Anyway, I’ve always wanted to travel around India.’ She shrugs, sits down and looks
out of the window.

After a bit she glances back at me. ‘Guess what?’ she asks. ‘It does!’

‘Does what?’ I say.

‘It brings her luck!’

The Clear Light
of Day

‘I had a call from Uma last night,’ Anjali tells me at breakfast. ‘They’re missing you too much.’ I feel bad because I haven’t even emailed
them for three days. ‘They want to Skype you. I arranged it for eleven o’clock this morning. Will that be good?’

I feel as though I don’t have much choice in the matter, so I nod and force a smile on to my face. I’m so tired from waking up all through the night.

I drink some water, but can’t stomach anything else. When Janu walks in and sits down beside me, Priya kicks me under the table and I joke-glare at her. My head is teeming with questions.
Just being in this room with everyone, and the thought of having to Skype home, makes me feel like I’m drowning in all this emotion. I think Janu can tell I’m distracted because he
chats to Priya and Anjali about all the jobs he’s got to do at the refuge today, only occasionally glancing my way. I don’t meet his eye but I’m aware of him watching me as he
talks, eats and drinks. He pours water from a bottle, and when he sees that my glass is empty he takes it and fills it without even asking me. He turns and smiles, but I can’t bring myself to
meet his gaze as he says his goodbyes and leaves for the refuge.

‘Why don’t you two freshen-up and get dressed before you Skype London?’ suggests Anjali as she heads for the door. I follow her out on to the landing.

‘Have you told Mum about the letters?’ I ask.

‘I’m leaving that up to you,’ she answers, giving me a purposeful look before turning and walking down the stairs. My heart sinks.

‘No one gets dressed up to Skype!’ says Priya.

But I do. I want Mum and Dad to know I’m doing fine without them. As a kind of peace offering to Mum I wear the orange salwar-kameez – the one I’ve worn a lot since I’ve
been here, the one I told Mum I’d never wear. Last of all I put on Mum’s earrings. Priya slings on her jeans and a bright red T-shirt.

I sit at the computer and Priya dials ‘Uma’. I think how weird it will be for Mum to see me sitting here, where Anjali and Priya usually sit. Priya leans on the arm of the chair,
peering over my shoulder.

The image jumps slightly, but the first person I see is Laila, with her bright face squished right up close to the screen.

‘Mimi, are you in there?’ she asks, holding her little hand out, as if she wants to grab hold of me through the screen. I can’t help it – the hard lump sitting in my
throat has suddenly dislodged itself and I’m in floods of tears. I’ve really missed Laila.

‘Why is Mimi crying? Take her out of India,’ Laila orders, scratching at the screen.

‘She’s probably just feeling a bit homesick,’ explains Mum, pulling Laila’s podgy hands away and blowing me a kiss.

‘You look lovely. The earrings suit you.’

‘Thanks, Mum.’

‘Sorry! I know you didn’t want to do this, but we were all missing you so much, even Krish, we just wanted to catch a glimpse of you out there.’

Dad’s face suddenly peers at me through the screen. ‘Hi, Mira. Look at you – so cool.’

‘No one says
cool
!’ I hear Krish moan in the background, and then his face appears around the side of Dad’s.

‘I meant she looks fresh and cool, like the heat’s not getting to her!’ Dad tells Krish.

‘Hi, Mira, don’t come back soon. I’ve moved into your room!’ Krish pulls a face at me.

‘Ha ha! Very funny!’ I hate to admit it, but I’ve missed him too, though I’d never tell him.

‘Like the hair, Priya!’ He grins and then disappears.

‘Thanks, Krish.’ Priya giggles.

‘Anjali’s been telling me that you’ve been all over Kolkata, and you’ve been a great help at the refuge,’ says Mum.

‘We’re so proud of you. See you very soon,’ I hear Dad shout from somewhere in the background. He hates using Skype.

‘Bye, Dad!’ I call out, but he’s already gone. I look back at Mum. ‘I’ve done a lot of sightseeing and I’ve been busy with my art project the last few days.
Sorry I haven’t emailed – I’ve been so busy . . .’

‘You’ve been busy.’ Mum’s voice echoes my own words back to me. ‘Is it unbearably hot?’ she goes on, our words fusing into each others. I can never get used
to the time delay. ‘What was that?’ she asks.

‘Sightseeing. I’ve been to the flower market, and Victoria Memorial, Howrah Bridge and the Burla Planetarium with Lila, and to a village, and Priya’s dance gala . .
.’

‘Ah, sightseeing with Lila. Send her my love. Shame about your case – I’ve put a claim in. But never mind, they’re only
things
. You look tired, Mira.’

‘It’s hard to sleep in the heat. Mum, I’ve got something I have to tell you . . .’

‘I love you. No need to say anything – it’s all forgotten. Here’s someone who hasn’t had much sleep recently either. I’ll leave you two to it.’ Mum
smiles mysteriously, and before I know what’s happening Jidé’s face is grinning at me.

Priya makes a little whistling noise under her breath.

‘Hi Jidé! This is Priya,’ I gush out the words, pointing to Priya and feeling the heat shoot up my neck and over my face.

‘Hi, Priya!’ Jidé says, but he’s looking at me.

‘Heavy.’ Priya whispers, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. She slides off her chair and leaves the room.

‘Kissy kissy, I love you, I miss you so much.’ I hear Krish in the background. Even though he’s only two years younger than me, he’s such a baby sometimes.

‘For goodness sake, Krish, give Jidé and Mira a moment
on their own
,’ Mum shouts, shooing him out. I hear the door slam.

‘So you’re back from the trip?’ I say.

‘Looks like it.’

‘How was it? The mountains?’

‘You know! Tough! Manly stuff, but I made it through!’ he jokes. ‘I’ve missed you,’ he says. Then a fuzz appears on the screen and everything starts to jump about.
I hope it’s happening at his end too so that he can’t read my expression.

‘I thought there’d be a ton of your texts waiting for me when I got home!’ I hear him say, even though the image is still jumbled at this end.

‘I would have but my phone’s not working!’

‘You don’t exactly look happy to see me.’

‘Of course I am!’ I protest, ‘It’s just a surprise, that’s all!’

‘OK, let’s email then from now on. So, what’s it like out there?’

‘It’s too hard to explain. There’s been so much going on . . . I’ve taken loads of photos, and video too.’

The image on screen settles and I can see by the way he’s looking at me, even across the slight delay, he’s not really listening.

‘I wish you were coming back today.’ He smiles the biggest, loveliest smile. Then he frowns slightly. ‘You’re being very quiet,’ he says, and then leans forward.
‘Did you write me that letter?’

I shake my head. ‘Jidé? I . . .’

‘Mira . . .’

Our voices overlap, then the screen crackles and his face cuts out. My head is aching with the tension of having to face Jidé like this.

‘I’m coming to meet you at the airport,’ is the last thing I hear him say.

‘Well, that was awkward! Did you tell him?’ asks Priya.

‘No, I have to talk to him face to face, not when he’s at my mum and dad’s.’

I feel completely drained. I just want to be by myself.

‘I’m sorry to leave you again, but I’ve got to go and see Paddy,’ says Priya. ‘I’d bring you with me, but it would spoil the surprise! Tonight, you and me are
sneaking out, and no arguments!’

I have no idea what Priya’s got planned, but I’ll need to do something to stop my mind endlessly replaying that conversation.

‘Are you sure you’re going to be OK?’ Priya calls out to me from the stairs.

‘Fine,’ I shout back.

I listen to my iPod for a while and check my Facebook, but nothing I do can erase Jidé’s face from my mind, or the twisted feeling in my gut. I head to the kitchen and pick at some
food but, even though I haven’t eaten breakfast, I’m still not hungry.

I kneel down at the little wooden table that’s become my easel. I start to remember all the clothes that were packed in my case: my favourite little blue cardigan and my peace T-shirt, one
of the ones Jidé gave me. I start sketching a crowd of people, some wearing my lost clothes. I like the idea that instead of my things being abandoned somewhere in a lost property office,
someone like Dust Boy has got hold of it all, and handed the stuff out to his family. There could be someone walking around Kolkata in my T-shirt right at this moment. I think maybe when that case
was lost, with Jidé’s note inside it, a bit of me was lost too, the bit that said, ‘This is who I am . . . this is who I belong to’. I don’t know how people can
actually belong to each other?

In a few days’ time me and Janu will be thousands of miles apart. Jidé will be waiting for me at the airport and I will have to tell him, and it will change everything.

I take the silver paint and trace a thin line around a girl’s wrist and add a tiny charm to it. The girl has her head turned towards me, her grey-green eyes sparkling out from the
canvas.

I open the wardrobe to decide what to wear tonight and spot the shoebox with Priya’s new white Converse inside.

I’d completely forgotten I said I would personalize them for her. She’s been so kind and friendly, I’d like to give something back to her. It’s not like she’s had
the best of times, what with all her rehearsals and being ill. I open the box and inside I find a packet of twenty felt-tip pens especially for drawing on fabric. She’s thought of everything!
I sit on the bed and start to doodle anything that comes into my mind when I think of Priya. Headphones, CDs, the sitar, the tabla, I manage to draw a tiny doll-like outline of her dancing Kathak
with her punky red hair; I draw a pair of her red Converse, a yellow taxi, a basket of flowers, jasmine, her midnight-blue eyes, Bacha . . .I just keep on going and going until every available
piece of white on both shoes is covered in pictures and swirls. By the time I’ve finished my head feels like I’m floating through a bank of clouds. I love the way I can lose myself in
art. I place the shoes at the end of Priya’s bed and lie down, a wave of tiredness washing over me.

House Party