guess you’re not used to spending so much time in the sun?’
‘I’m not,’ she said ruefully. ‘That’s why I fell asleep in the car—I must look a real mess.’
‘You look beautiful,’ Neil said abruptly.
Shefali looked up in surprise at the unexpected compliment.
They were in a rather deserted lane, between two rows of closed shops, and in the orange glare of the streetlights her upturned face was pale and so breathtakingly lovely that Neil lost his head. He put a hand under her chin and turned her face up. Unhesitatingly, he bent down to press his lips to hers.
The kiss came as such a shock that Shefali stood absolutely still for a few seconds. The sensation was indescribable. She’d been kissed before, but the feel of Neil’s warm, demanding lips on hers was something else altogether. Involuntarily she clutched at his arms, trying to pull him closer. His hands were cupping her face now, and with a little inarticulate cry Shefali arched her body to lean in closer to the kiss. She was conscious of nothing other than the feel of Neil’s lips on her mouth and throat.
A lot of time seemed to have gone by when Neil let her go finally, and she stared at him, her eyes still a little hazy from the effect of his kisses. One of his hands came to rest lightly on her shoulder and the other caressed her cheek. He ran a thumb gently over her lower lip.
‘I should apologise,’ he said softly, and his voice was not quite steady. ‘I shouldn’t have done that. But I’m not sorry I did.’
She wasn’t sorry either, she realised. The kiss had healed something in her—helped her to start thinking of herself as an attractive, desirable woman once again. Pranav’s desertion had shaken her self-confidence badly, and she could only feel grateful to Neil for having given some of it back. But she’d only just met him, and the sudden attraction between them was something she was completely unprepared for. She needed to think.
‘I have to go,’ she said quietly.
Neil reached out quickly to take her hand, making her quiver with longing all over again.
‘Are you upset about this?’ he asked. ‘We both got a little carried away, but it’s not the end of the world.’
In spite of what he’d said, he was beginning to regret kissing her. He’d been very careful over the last four years not to get involved with anyone, and the momentary madness that had overtaken him was completely uncharacteristic.
‘I’m not upset,’ Shefali said, but her eyes were troubled. Three weeks ago she’d been ready to marry Pranav and spend the rest of her life with him. Now she was perfectly happy standing in a lane in a strange city kissing a man she’d just met—what did that make her?
‘Come on—let’s have dinner and I’ll drop you back to your hotel afterwards,’ Neil said.
Shefali followed him into the restaurant. It was a rather silent meal. Neil seemed to have withdrawn into himself, and Shefali began to wonder if he was, after all, having second thoughts. Maybe her reaction had been a little too abrupt. She would have explained if she could, but the whole thing with Pranav was still too recent to discuss over dinner with someone who—kiss or no kiss—was virtually a stranger. Especially when the well-fed family at the next table was doing its best to listen in to every word they said.
‘Shall we?’ Neil said smoothly, once he’d paid the bill, and Shefali trailed behind him to the car park rather like Mary’s little lamb.
He didn’t ask for her number when he dropped her off, and she didn’t volunteer it or ask for his. Presumably if he wanted to speak to her he would call the hotel. She was moving the next day, but she’d leave a forwarding address.
* * *
The sun pouring through cheap lace curtains woke Shefali on Monday, and she sat up with a muffled groan. She’d had a bad night, disturbed by dreams in which Pranav and Neil had alternately abandoned her at the altar. The last dream had ended with Pranav being eaten by a crocodile, which was distinctly weird—her subconscious was obviously taking the whole thing very seriously.
Shefali rubbed her eyes. The lace curtains would need to go—it was only six-thirty, but the room was flooded with light. Thick khadi was what was needed—or maybe blackout blinds if homespun cotton wasn’t available. And the walls were an awful colour—something between pistachio-green and olive. Mrs Dubey, though a wonderful person, had rather peculiar tastes in home décor.
Sighing, she got out of bed. It was the first day of actual school, and she needed to be on time. She’d spent Sunday moving her things from the hotel to the flat, and buying essentials like groceries and buckets and mops. In spite of the amount of work she’d done she’d kept thinking of Neil. That kiss had been pretty amazing. In retrospect it was probably the best kiss of her life, and she couldn’t help fantasising a little.
The rest of the morning was so busy she didn’t have time to think of anything other than learning the ropes at the school. Mrs Dubey was obviously a competent administrator, but her management style resembled that of an Army drill sergeant—most of the younger teachers looked relieved at the thought that she’d be leaving soon.
‘I think you’ll be settled by the end of the week,’ Mrs Dubey said as she stood next to Shefali, watching the children filing out. Each child had been given a note to carry home that explained that Mrs Dubey was leaving and introduced Shefali as the new centre manager. ‘I’m around for the next couple of days in any case, if you need anything.’
Shefali gave her a smile that she hoped looked grateful enough. She was exhausted and, truth be told, beginning to wonder if moving here had been such a good idea after all. Unlike the Delhi playschool she’d worked at, this one was fully self-contained—she’d have to manage the billing and all the financials in addition to supervising the teaching, and it looked like a lot of work. The kids were rather sweet, though, and a lot less smart-alecky than the Delhi brats she was used to.
‘Nina, stop—you need to take this letter and give it to your mum,’ Mrs Dubey said, holding back a bright-eyed little moppet who was rushing past.
‘Can I give the letter to my dad instead?’ Nina piped up. ‘My mum isn’t here, and he’s always around.’
Mrs Dubey looked mildly scandalised, but Shefali smiled at the child. ‘Why not?’ she said. ‘Does he come to pick you up?’
‘Yes,’ she said and pointed towards the school gate. ‘Look—there he is!’
Shefali turned. There was only one man in the crowd of parents thronging near the gate—tall, with rumpled chestnut hair and familiar mocking eyes. Maybe Nina’s father was standing further back—but what was Neil doing here? She’d not told him where she worked, though he could have probably found out from the hotel.
She gave him a wary look as he walked up to them, but his attention wasn’t on her.
‘Hi, pumpkin,’ he said, ruffling Nina’s hair and inclining his head ironically at Shefali.
‘Daddy!’ Nina squealed happily, and clung on to his hand.
Neil Mitra—married with a kid. Something he’d neglected to mention even after he’d kissed her. No wonder he’d been in such a hurry to get away. It still seemed incomprehensible, though. For one thing he looked so young—she’d
