OK?’ he asked quietly as the plane came to a halt and girl tried to jerk to her feet without undoing her seatbelt.
‘Yes, of course,’ she said, but her voice sounded artificially cheerful.
Her glossy, perfectly styled hair fell across her face and hid her expression as she bent to open the recalcitrant catch of her seatbelt. Finally getting it undone, she stood up and opened one of the overhead lockers, tugging valiantly at her bag. After watching her struggle for a few seconds, Neil got up to free it for her. She was taller than he’d thought, just half a head below his own imposing six-foot two inches. The flowery scent from her hair teased at his nostrils, and for a second their eyes met and held as he took the case out and handed it to her.
Shefali looked away first, flustered by her reaction to him. Perhaps she was going crazy, she thought, suddenly furious with herself. Pranav’s betrayal was making her overly susceptible to the slightest bit of attention from any good-looking man. She tried to take a step away from him, but there was nowhere either of them could move—everyone in the plane was standing in the aisle, trying to get at their luggage, and the doors hadn’t opened yet.
‘Relax, I don’t bite,’ he said, sounding amused as he noticed her trying to move away.
Shefali flushed angrily. It was bad enough realising how pathetic she was without him noticing too. Luckily the doors opened just then, and she was able turn towards the exit.
‘Here—let me take that,’ he said, leaning down to take the handle of her case from her.
Relinquishing it, she followed him into the airport, her nose wrinkling just a little as she noticed how tiny it was.
Neil grinned at her reaction, Neil grinned. ‘Doesn’t match up to Delhi T3, does it?’ he asked.
Refusing to be embarrassed any further, Shefali shrugged. ‘It’s quaint,’ she said. ‘Oh, look—my cases are here.’
Neil helped her get the bags off the carousel, his smoky blue eyes widening as he realised how many there were. ‘Arctic expedition?’ he asked, his brows quirking up.
‘I’m moving here for work,’ Shefali said stiffly. ‘Two of the cartons are full of educational aids I’ll need for my job.’
It had taken her days to pack, choosing between sentimental reminders of her growing-up years in Delhi and more practical things like dishes and clothes. And then her boss had landed her with the two cartons to carry, airily offering to pay for the extra baggage. The last thing she needed now was to be given grief for the amount of luggage she had. She eyed his mid-sized rucksack contemptuously—he was probably carrying clothes for a two-day trip, and she had her entire life in her bags.
Suddenly overcome by the enormity of what she was doing, she shoved her remaining bags onto the trolley and said gruffly, ‘Well, thanks for everything. I guess you need to head off now...’
Looking slightly taken aback, Neil gestured towards the trolley groaning under the weight of three cases, two large cartons and a carryall. ‘Are you sure you’ll be able to manage that?’
‘Perfectly sure,’ Shefali said, dredging up a polite little smile, though her heart sank into her shoes at the thought of having to wrestle with all that stuff on her own. Then her sense of pride reasserted itself. She wasn’t helpless. She’d be fine. She didn’t need help from random strangers, however good-looking they were. ‘Thanks again for your help,’ she said, trying to sound as gracious as possible. ‘I’m sure we’ll see each other around, this is such a small place.’
‘It has a population of over a million,’ he said drily. ‘But if we do run into each other I’ll come across and say hello.’
Someone from the throng of people outside the airport yelled, ‘Neil—over here!’, and the man gave Shefali a brief nod before turning away.
Flushing, Shefali watched him stride off, his broad, athletic frame a stark contrast to the frankly pudgy man with a ponytail who’d greeted him exuberantly as soon as he’d stepped out.
He was nowhere in sight when Shefali finally managed to get her trolley out, but by then she had other things to worry about. The airport seemed to be in the middle of nowhere. Apart from a small car park there was nothing—trees and more trees surrounded the area, and there was not a cab in sight. Everyone else who’d got off the flight was being met by someone, and the couple of auto-rickshaw drivers who were hanging around looked as if they spent their spare time mugging little old ladies and stealing candy from kids.
She looked around a little helplessly—the man Neil was driving out of the airport in a black SUV, and she wished she’d asked him for a lift.
‘Need a lift somewhere?’
Shefali turned to look into the concerned eyes of the motherly woman she’d been sitting next to at first. Shefali shook her head. The woman seemed nice enough, but she reminded her way too strongly of all the curious aunties back in Delhi, who’d been simultaneously horrified, pitying and excited at her wedding being called off.
In her hurry to get away Shefali beckoned to the least ruffianly-looking of the auto-rickshaw drivers and gave him the address of her hotel. The auto was cramped—her bags took up most of the back seat of the three-wheeler—and she had to sit to one side, almost falling out of the open vehicle as it zipped through almost deserted roads. For a while she tried to look out and interest herself in her surroundings, but then her shoulders slumped and she leaned back in the seat and closed her eyes. The first day of her new and independent life had been exhausting, to say the least.
TWO
‘This is...really impressive,’ Shefali said, barely able to conceal the surprise in her voice.
Mrs Dubey, the outgoing centre manager of the playschool, smiled. ‘Not as villagey as you expected, then,’ she said, her voice dry.
Shefali turned around quickly. ‘Oh, no—I didn’t mean that!’ she exclaimed, though it was exactly what she’d meant and they both knew it. ‘It’s just that the centre looks so much like the one I worked in when I was in Delhi—at least from inside. And there’s so much space outside. You actually have a full-sized playground for the children. It’s lovely!’
There was enough genuine enthusiasm in her voice to win Mrs Dubey over, and her smile became a lot warmer. ‘I’m glad you like it,’ she said. ‘On Monday I’ll introduce you to the staff and take you through the paperwork, then you’ll be all set. I don’t think there’s anything else we need to cover now. What are your plans for the rest of the day?’
Shefali looked a little lost. It was a Saturday, and Mrs Dubey was right—without either the teachers or the children around, there wasn’t much for her to do here. ‘I’m not sure,’ she said. ‘I’d assumed this would take a lot longer. Can I start moving my things into the flat today?’
The playschool was a two-storey building, and the upper storey had a decent-sized flat that came with the job. It had looked rather nice when Mrs Dubey had shown her around earlier, and Shefali was looking forward to moving in.
Mrs Dubey was shaking her head, though. ‘I still need to move some of my boxes out,’ she said. ‘I’m staying with friends for the next few days, before I head out to Pune to join my son, so I’m getting the bigger things packed today and sent on directly. And we did say that you’d move in tomorrow.’
