Jasmine Skies (8 page)

‘What is that?’ I ask him.

‘History . . . takes time to settle.’ He smiles at me. ‘You know, Mira . . . as long as there are memories to hold on to, nothing ever really dies.’

Then I feel his hand slip out of mine.

‘Grandad!’ I call, but nothing but my own voice echoing comes back at me.

I’m trying desperately to search for where I am through a fog of dust, endless clouds and a constant thudding in my head.

‘Thought you would
never
wake up . . .’ Priya grins. The doors of her wardrobe are thrown open and she’s got something cranked up to full volume.

‘What do you think of this track?’

‘Heavy!’ I mumble, but I’m obviously not that convincing because she turns it off.

‘It’s metal, punk, dubstep . . . crossover. They’re all over this in the States, but maybe not the best to wake up to! Ma wouldn’t let me disturb you, but I’ve
waited all this time to meet you. I couldn’t let you sleep any more! Sorry! So much to show you, so little time!’ Priya grins again and offers me a stick of gum at the same time as
throwing three pieces into her own mouth.

‘So this is the hub,’ she says proudly, spreading her arms wide. ‘It’s where the magic happens! I’m just messing around really, learning to mix it all
up.’

I nod, but I’m finding it difficult to get my head back in gear. That dream sort of pulled me into somewhere deep, and now I feel like I’m having to climb back out again. I think
Priya realizes I’m still groggy, because she walks over and sits next to me on the bed . . . and that’s when I see, too late, that Anjali’s letters are still strewn everywhere.
How could I have been so careless? I gather the pages as fast as I can, but Priya’s already holding one in her hands.

‘This is Ma’s writing, isn’t it?’

I suppose there’s no point in lying to her.

I nod.

‘It’s weird! So retro! I mean who writes letters these days anyway? Did your mum give them to you?’ she asks.

‘Not really. I sort of borrowed them,’ I whisper.

‘Rebel!’ teases Priya, casting her eyes carelessly over the letter. ‘Ah! The house in Doctor’s Lane . . . Well, the door’s just about still standing. I
wouldn’t ask Ma about the old place though if I were you. It’s one of her sore points.’

‘Why?’

‘All I know is that the family had to give it up after Boro-Dida – old Grandma died. We had to move out because my other grandparents were ill, so we lived with them for a while. I
think Shudi Uncle and his wife, Anishka, stayed on there for some time. You know, he was a carpenter and he had a workshop there, but apparently Anishka was keen to move to a modern flat. No one
wanted to sell the house but no one wanted to live there either. I think Ma tried to have the refuge there, but it was not possible. So it got sold to developers. Ma calls them sharks waiting to
eat up the whole of old Kolkata. If you ask her about it she just says that we all need to stop living in the past. She’ll tell you she doesn’t want to go back to the house because she
wants to keep her memories sacred. Anyway, trust me, she’s so stubborn you’ll never get anything out of her unless she wants to tell you.’ Priya hops off the bed and tugs me to my
feet. ‘Doesn’t your ma get like that from time to time, all emotional over nothing much?’

‘I suppose so . . . Have you ever asked Anjali why she and Mum lost contact?’

‘I did, when you and me started Facebooking, but she just said that they were both so busy.’ Priya shrugs, as if she hasn’t really thought that much about it.

‘You won’t tell your ma about me taking the letters, will you? I’m planning to put them back when I get home so she’ll never know I took them.’ I smile
nervously.

‘My lips are sealed!’ Priya says, sticking her tongue through her most enormous bubble yet and making it pop. ‘Look at us! You’ve only been here for a few hours and
we’re already, what’s the phrase . . . thick as thieves? Keeping secrets is something I
can
do . . . you’ll see!’ Priya smiles mysteriously and then collapses back on
to the bed. ‘You know, this is the best thing that’s happened to me in ages, having you here, and I love that we made it happen ourselves – with a little help from my
Didima.’

‘I can’t wait to see her again. Does she live in this block?’ I ask Priya.

‘Ma would love her to, but she’s far too independent. Anyway, this place is not her style at all – far too retro for Didima, you’ll see!’ Priya laughs.
‘She’ll probably take you to her apartment. She’s on cloud nine since she heard you were finally coming. Like you being here is her personal triumph or something. I suppose in a
way it’s is, because she wouldn’t stop going on at me until I Facebooked you!’

So Lila
is
behind me and Priya getting together. I suppose Lila must know about whatever it is that happened in the past. Grandad must have known too. Perhaps that was also why he
didn’t want to come back to India, until Lila came to see him.

‘You know, my big plan is to make this a regular gig! Next time it’s my turn to come and stay with you in London,’ says Priya, wrapping her arm around my shoulder. ‘We
could hit the clubs, make some contacts.’ She laughs.

As if! I think to myself. Like my mum would let us go out clubbing together!

‘How was your dance rehearsal?’ I ask, changing the subject.

‘OK! Same as ever. The choreographer’s a total dragon!’

‘But you like doing it?’ I point at the photos pasted all over her wall.

‘The hours of training I could do without, but when I’m actually performing I
love
it! Do you dance?’

‘No!’ I never feel comfortable dancing, even in a really crowded place, unless I’m with Jidé. He’ll make a joke of it and prance about, dragging me around with
him.

‘Well, to start to learn Kathak you don’t even have to move! Here, I’ll show you. It begins with the eyes. Stare at me without blinking for as long as you can!’

After a few seconds I’m blinking already, but Priya goes on staring for ages. Then she does one huge blink, and starts flicking her eyes from left to right, up and down until I can’t
help laughing.

‘I call it the “Demented Goddess” exercise. It’s supposed to strengthen the muscles in your eyes!’

I can see how she would be an amazing dancer, because she’s got this brightness playing about her face, and an easy grace in the way she moves that makes you want to watch her. If she was
an animal she’d definitely be a cat – you get the feeling that at any moment she could spring from a standstill to a great height.

‘Anyway,’ she carries on, ‘no rehearsals tomorrow. So shopping, shopping, shopping all day long . . . bliss! Then where do you want to go?’

The truth is, I want to see everything I can in this city, but the place I want to see more than anywhere else is the house in Doctor’s Lane, and now reading the letters has made me want
to go there even more, but after what she’s told me, I don’t feel like I should ask. Not straight away anyway.

‘I circled loads of places,’ I tell Priya, handing her my guidebook.

She flicks through. ‘All the usual suspects! I knew you liked art, so I guessed you’d want to check out the galleries.’

I nod. There is so much I want to see. I can already tell from the tiny glimpses of the city I’ve seen so far that three weeks will never be enough time here.

‘After the mall I’ll take you to somewhere that’s not on your list,’ says Priya mysteriously. ‘It’s going to blast your mind! And Janu says he’ll take
you to Kumartuli, where they make all the clay idols for pujas . . . gods and goddesses. Janu’s into all that. You should have seen his face light up when I told him you’re a proper
artist!’

‘Not really!’ I mumble, feeling terrible that I haven’t asked after Janu yet. In fact, I’d almost forgotten all about him. Grandad mentioned him a couple of times, and
Lila showed us a photograph when she came to see us, but really all I know is what’s written in the leaflet Anjali sent me. It says that he was the first baby Anjali took in at the refuge and
that now he’s graduated to working there.

‘Is Janu here?’ I ask, feeling slightly stupid for not knowing.

‘He lives half here, half at the refuge these days. He’s a work addict like Ma. Never stops. I’m always telling him to lighten up a bit . . . act his age! He’s sixteen
going on twenty! Anyway you’ll meet him soon enough.’ Priya shrugs. ‘But while we’re on our own I want to hear all about this love of yours. No one I know has been going out
with a boy since they were twelve years old. It’s like you’re married or something! He must be more than a pretty face!’ Priya sits on the bed and crosses her legs in a yoga
position, both feet resting easily on the tops of her thighs.

I sit on the edge of the bed next to her, I’m not sure what to say. ‘He’s sort of my best friend,’ I start, trying to find the right words to describe what Jidé is
to me.

Priya raises her eyebrows as if to say, ‘Yes! AND . . .’

‘Well, we’ve been through a load of stuff together, and he knows me better than anyone else . . . and now I’m here I can’t believe how much I miss speaking to him every
day.’

I can tell by the look on Priya’s face that I’m not doing this very well, but I’ve never tried to explain to anyone before how I really feel about Jidé.

‘Me and Bacha have been through
stuff
together!’ she laughs.

‘Well, he’s . . . he makes me laugh, he’s clever and he’s got this gentle smile . . . and a good heart, and I told you we’re best friends. Here!’ I say,
rummaging in my bag. ‘It’s my favourite photo of him. I carry it everywhere.’ I hand it to Priya.

‘Sweet! But he’s changed a bit since this!’ Priya laughs, ‘More juicy details please!’

‘He’s a good kisser!’ I giggle and now Priya jumps up on the bed, pulls me up too and starts to dance around.

‘Now you’re talking. AND . . . ?!’

‘He does sweet, thoughtful things like load random songs on to my iPod.’

‘If music be the food of love . . .’ laughs Priya. ‘And . . . ?!’

‘What?’

‘Is it love?’

‘I think so.’ It’s what I’ve always thought but neither of us has actually used the word.

‘OK, I’ll try again. Is it forever?’

‘How do I know?’

I’ve never really thought of that before, but just the idea that it might not be forever makes me feel odd.

‘Let’s Skype him and I’ll interview him! See if he’s good enough for you,’ she jokes.

‘We can’t. Not for nearly two weeks anyway. He’s gone on this Geography field trip to the Alps. And they’re not allowed to take mobiles or laptops. He gets back a week
before me, so you’ll have to wait till then!’ I say.

‘Shame! But what’s that saying? “Absence makes the heart grow fonder,”’ she teases, her eyes pirouetting around their sockets in a suggestive ‘You know what I
mean’ dance! But suddenly I can’t bring myself to laugh any more because the image of Jidé’s lost love note floating somewhere between here and London fills my mind and
right now I would do anything just to hear his voice.

Priya must sense that I’m close to tears because she squeezes my hand and changes the subject.

‘So what’s your favourite song right now?’

‘This one. I was listening to it before I fell asleep.’ I hand her my iPod and shuffle to ‘Summer Breeze’. I’ve only just heard it, but somehow the fact that
Jidé chose it for me makes me feel closer to him.

Priya takes one earphone and hands the other to me and we listen to the track together. She closes her eyes and her body sways. When she listens to music, she seems to slip away somewhere else.
She starts to sing along and I join in. It’s a while before I realize that she’s taken out her earphone and is listening to me.

‘You didn’t tell me you can sing!’ She smiles. ‘My ma said Uma had a great voice too.’

‘I don’t know. I’m not that sure about it yet. I only started singing lessons last year,’ I tell her. ‘But what I like best is writing my own stuff.’

‘Take it from me, you can sing!’ She laughs, standing on her tiptoes, reaching out through the window and plucking a tiny cluster of white flowers from a vine, which she hands to
me.

‘Jasmine, just like in the song . . . smell that!’ she orders. ‘Janu grows it on the balcony upstairs.’

So that’s the sweet smell that’s been wafting through the window.

‘You know sooner or later you’re going to have to sing for me, like it or not. I want you to write me something with that sort of beat. I could use it . . . Give me a few days to
experiment, then I’ll record you and mix it all up. I think it could work. The drop could come right . . . here. Let me just listen a few more times.’

‘I don’t know. I’ve never been recorded before,’ I mumble, but my words are lost on Priya because she’s already plugged herself back in. I watch her sink into her
pillows, close her eyes and roll on to her side. After a while I think she’s fallen asleep.

There’s a gentle knock at the door and Anjali walks in. I feel as if guilt is written all over my face.

‘That bed’s supposed to be for you! Typical of Priya – she’ll go on and on and then suddenly she’s out like a light!’ Anjali whispers. ‘It’s all
the dancing she’s doing, it wears her out.’

‘I’m fine sleeping on the roll-up bed,’ I whisper back.

‘I Skyped Uma for you earlier, because you were fast asleep. She was happy to hear you’ve arrived safely. She wanted to know if you’ve got her ‘sorry’? She said
you’d understand.’

I put my hands up to feel my earrings still in place. I smile and nod at Anjali. At least I don’t have to face Mum tonight.

‘Want anything to eat or drink?’ Anjali asks me.

‘No, thank you.’

‘Well, sweet dreams then!’

It’s midnight and the whole neighbourhood is quiet now. I watch Priya sleeping on her bed. I don’t know if it’s just because we’re family that I already like her so much.
Maybe when someone is family, even when you come from different worlds, you’re just not so scared to give a bit more of what’s really inside you. That’s how I already feel about
Priya, and I would hate
not
to know her from now on. Mum and Anjali obviously once have felt like that too, and so it must have taken something really big to have pulled them apart.