‘Who?’ asks Amy, frowning impatiently. ‘What are you going on about?’
‘Quick, before she sees us!’ I watch Shine walk over to greet her and feel a beat of indignation. Oh my god, he’s so brazen!
‘Rubes!’ Amy sounds really quite cross now. ‘What are you doing?’
‘I’ll explain later,’ I hiss, trying to drag her in the other direction, but she’s not budging.
‘Ouch!’ she yelps, ‘you’re hurting me.’
‘Sssshh!’ I hiss.
But it’s too late. The woman’s seen us. She’s coming over. Oh, fuck!
‘Amy, get back,’ I instruct, stepping in front of her to act like a sort of human shield, but she sidesteps out from behind me with a loud tut.
‘Rubes! Have you gone stark, staring mad?’
‘No, you don’t understand . . .’ I break off as the woman bears down upon us.
‘Amy, there you are!’ Pushing her sunglasses onto the top of her head, she leans towards her and kisses her politely on both cheeks.
I stare in disbelief.
‘And who is this?’ she asks, turning towards me with a courteous smile.
‘My sister, Ruby,’ replies Amy, quickly introducing me. ‘And Ruby, this is Aisha, Shine’s sister.’
His sister?
‘I wish he wouldn’t use that silly nickname,’ Aisha says, holding out her hand to shake mine. ‘Hello, it’s very nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.’
I don’t react. I can’t. I’m still trying to take it all in.
‘Ruby, what’s wrong?’ Amy peers at me with a worried expression.
‘I saw you with Shine . . . you were in a back street in Goa . . . I assumed . . .’ I trail off. It’s as if my mind has been lagging behind and has now only just caught up with this sudden turn in events.
Amy’s face suddenly registers that the penny’s dropped. ‘Oh no, you didn’t think . . .’
But she doesn’t even have to finish. I blush beetroot. I suddenly feel very foolish.
‘Well, how was I to know?’ I protest weakly. ‘I saw them together’ – my mind flashes backwards – ‘and they were arguing.’
‘This is true,’ nods Shine’s sister, seemingly unfazed. ‘I was holidaying in Goa, I had come to visit my baby brother, but when he confessed to me that he was in love with your sister and wanted to marry her, I was very much against it.’
As the nuggets of information are starting to drop into place like jigsaw pieces, Shine reappears, walking towards us. ‘I’m sorry, I was just helping the driver park the car . . .’ he begins apologetically then, seeing me, he hesitates slightly and bows his head. ‘Hello Ruby,’ he says politely.
‘Hello Shine,’ I nod, somewhat stiffly. OK, so I might have jumped to conclusions, but he still eloped with my sister. Plus, that still doesn’t explain why he lied to me. ‘Why didn’t you tell me the truth?’ I blurt, looking to him for an explanation. ‘Why did you lie to me?’
Shine’s handsome face puckers. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t understand.’
‘That day I saw you in Goa, when I was lost in the back streets, you told me you weren’t with anyone, that you were by yourself.’
As I enlighten him, his face floods with the memory. ‘I didn’t want you to tell Amy,’ he says, after a moment’s pause. ‘I didn’t want Amy knowing my sister was in town. If she knew, then she would have wanted to meet her, and that would have been impossible . . .’ He trails off. ‘It would have created many problems.’
‘So you just ran away?’ I reproach.
Well, I’m sorry, I can’t help it. I’ve been worried sick.
‘My brother has always been headstrong, even as a baby,’ interrupts Aisha. ‘I should have realised he would not listen. When I discovered he had run away to be married, I was very angry and upset.’
‘Yes, me too,’ I nod, remembering my phone call with Amy at the airport.
‘I say to myself, he cannot go against years of tradition, he cannot marry some stranger he hardly knows, this is crazy!’ she continues vehemently.
‘Yes I know, it’s crazy,’ I agree, and yet deep down inside of me I unexpectedly feel a niggle of doubt.
‘I knew I had to find him and stop him. I didn’t want him to make a big mistake, something that he would regret for the rest of his life . . .’
I recognise those words – those are the same ones I’d used, I reflect, glancing across at Shine and Amy. They’ve moved closer together and his arm is wrapped protectively around her waist, whilst she’s holding onto his hand. Except, seeing them now, somehow it’s hard to imagine either of them as a mistake.
‘The man who owns the retreat couldn’t tell me anything,’ she tuts, shaking her head and I have a vision of poor Biju, terrified into silence. ‘I called friends, visited relatives, until finally, after travelling the whole length of the country looking for him, I find him here at our uncle’s house,’ she finishes, throwing her hands onto her hips and glaring at him.
I flinch slightly. Aisha’s actually pretty scary.
‘Our parents will be turning in their graves!’
‘Aisha,’ says Shine sternly, throwing her a look, before turning to me, his expression solemn. ‘Please don’t be angry with your sister, it was all my idea,’ he says earnestly. ‘I take all responsibility.’
I feel myself soften. ‘Don’t worry, I can never stay angry at her for long,’ I smile ruefully. ‘That said, I don’t believe for a minute it was all your idea.’ I glance across at Amy and she shifts uncomfortably. ‘Her nickname at primary school wasn’t Little Miss Trouble for nothing.’
She blanches. ‘That was a bit unfair,’ she protests indignantly.
‘Tell that to the little boy you buried in the sandpit, or the girl whose hair you painted. Literally.’
Everyone smiles and I feel the atmosphere lightening.
‘I’m just relieved you’re OK,’ I confess, ‘I was really worried. Especially when I met someone who had a photo of you both on an elephant in Jaipur.’ My mind flicks back to Cindy. ‘She said you were upset—’
‘Oh my god, not that crazy American girl!’ gasps Amy incredulously.
‘She wasn’t that crazy,’ I correct, feeling strangely protective.
‘She was crazy,’ repeats Amy, ‘and an outrageous flirt. She was all over Shine like a rash!’
Having witnessed Cindy’s flirting techniques first-hand, I don’t doubt it, but still . . .‘She said you’d had a fight with your boyfriend,’ I persist.
Amy’s cheeks pinken. ‘OK, so I admit, I got a bit jealous.’
‘Now you’re the one being crazy,’ smiles Shine.
‘And she told you he wasn’t worth it.’
‘Like I said, she was completely crazy,’ nods Amy.
‘But . . .’ My mind is scrambling; as so often recently, it seems to have been another misunderstanding. ‘But I’ve been really worried,’ I gasp, finally.
‘I told you not to worry,’ objects Amy, but Shine shushes her.
‘Big sisters always worry,’ he says, putting his arm around her.
‘It’s true,’ nods Aisha. ‘I have spent my whole life looking after my little brother, making sure he doesn’t get into trouble.’
‘Me too,’ I nod sympathetically, and a look passes between us.
‘It is all my fault,’ continues Shine, his expression falling serious. ‘My love made me rash, impatient and thoughtless. And I love your sister forever, Ruby. I love her more than anything in the world.’
I look at them together. Whereas before I didn’t believe it, now I don’t doubt it.
Except . . .
‘But then, I don’t understand . . .’ I begin, my mind turning. Because now everything has been explained, I’m more confused than ever. ‘Why did Amy ring me, really upset? She said it had all gone horribly wrong.’
At once, both their faces cloud over.
‘Well, seeing as you were both trying to stop us, you’ll both be pleased to hear we ca
n’t get married,’ says Amy, looking upset. ‘It’s bad luck. If we do, something terrible will happen.’
I stare at her in bewilderment. Like I said, my sister is full of surprises. ‘What do you mean, something terrible will happen?’
‘We were supposed to get married last night in Udaipur,’ explains Shine. ‘We had everything arranged, and then we had our charts read—’
‘It was my idea,’ interrupts Amy. ‘When I found out it was traditional to consult with an astrologist before you get married, I thought it would be fun – you know me and my horoscopes . . .’
‘I was against it from the beginning,’ says Shine, shaking his head. ‘This match-making of horoscopes is outdated nonsense. I should never have agreed. But Amy wanted to do it and I stupidly thought: where is the harm?’
‘. . . and it turns out I’m a Manglik!’
I look at her blankly. ‘A what?’
‘It’s to do with the position of Mars in your chart. It’s called Mangal Dosha, and it will bring terrible luck to the marriage.’ Her eyes well up and Shine holds her closer.
‘Oh come on, you can’t believe that superstitious nonsense,’ I scoff, but even as I’m saying it, I’m remembering how my sister wouldn’t let me put the umbrella up in my room in Goa.
‘I told her not to worry,’ reassures Shine, ‘that he was a silly old man and we would be fine, but she wouldn’t listen—’
‘Vedic astrology is very important in our culture,’ interrupts Aisha, reproving her brother. ‘For a woman, to be a Manglik is very dangerous. Amy is right not to ignore this.’
‘Hush, sister!’ retorts Shine, crossly. ‘You are scaring Amy. Plus there has never been any scientific evidence to support such claims. It’s just superstition.’
‘Maybe, but many believe it can bring troubles to a marriage. Some say it can lead to separation and divorce, or even worse.’
Hearing all this, I suddenly realise this is serious. This isn’t just some silly superstition. My mind flashes back to the night in the desert, listening to Mohan talking about mysticism and the heavens. Whether you believe it or not, for Amy and Shine this is a real problem.
‘Shine could even die,’ whispers Amy, hugging him tighter.
Looking at her scared expression, I feel my mind working overtime. Up until this point I’ve been doing everything to stop this wedding, but now, seeing how much in love she and Shine are, I want to do everything to make it happen.
‘We must help them,’ I say to Aisha, firmly.
‘What?’ She looks at me, shocked.
‘There must be a way to fix this, surely?’
‘I cannot say. You would need to consult with a priest or an astrologer,’ she says unhelpfully, and I get the distinct impression that even if she does know something, she isn’t going to tell me. She doesn’t want to help try and fix this; after all, she likes the fact that something is preventing her brother marrying my sister.
‘What did the astrologer say?’ I look at Shine, but he shakes his head.
‘He wasn’t a good astrologer. He didn’t try to help us, only scare us.’ He wraps his arm tighter around my sister. ‘Amy was so upset we left Udaipur immediately. I didn’t know where to go, so I brought her here to my uncle’s house. It was here we met with Aisha—’
‘But I don’t understand,’ interrupts Amy, frowning. ‘I thought you’d be pleased we can’t get married.’
‘I was wrong,’ I say simply.
‘Wrong?’ she echoes, in disbelief.
I can’t help but smile ruefully. ‘I know, it’s hard for a big sister to admit to her little sister that she was wrong, but you were right . . .’ I break off and think about Sam, about Jack and about everything that’s happened. ‘I thought happy-ever-afters were for fairy tales, that believing in love was a mistake, that you’d only get your heart broken, like I did, and I wanted to stop that from happening. I wanted to protect you. But then something happened . . .’ I break off, thinking of this journey I’ve been on, of all the people and places I’ve seen, of all I’ve experienced and learned.
‘What happened?’ prompts Amy quietly.
‘India,’ I reply, and as I say it out loud for the first time, I realise it’s true. ‘I closed my heart to love but India forced it wide open again.’
My gaze flicks across the faces of Aisha, Shine and Amy, all listening to me intently; but instead of feeling self-conscious, I feel emboldened.
‘Yes, it doesn’t always work out, but you guys had the courage to go for it. To take the risk. Because in love there are no guarantees. There is no insurance that we won’t get our hearts broken.’ My mind flashes back to the hotel room in Udaipur, and I feel a sickening twist in my heart as I think about Jack. ‘But we must never give up on love,’ I say, quietly but firmly.
As I finish speaking, my eyes meet Amy’s.
‘Thank you,’ she says quietly.
‘What? For being a pain-in-the-ass big sister?’ I smile and, grabbing my bag, I turn to leave.
‘Where are you going?’
‘I’m not sure yet, but I’ll be back in a couple of hours.’ And, feeling a wave of determination, I leave them staring after me and stride purposely across the courtyard and out into the city.
Chapter 38
Saying that, I haven’t a clue what I’m doing.
Plunged into the bustling maze of streets, I pause for a moment on a corner to try and gather my thoughts. Doubts start to mushroom. Actually, maybe I’ve been a bit impulsive. I mean, it’s all very well wanting to save the day – big sister to the rescue and all that – but the truth of the matter is I don’t know the first thing about astrology, Vedic or otherwise. Or having your charts read. Or horoscopes.
Other than that my star sign is Taurus and I always seem to be ‘due for a surprise’ near the date of my birthday, it’s all a complete mystery to me.
A bit like love.
As the thought strikes, I feel a renewed hope. Because I suddenly realise it doesn’t matter that I’m not an expert in astrology. What matters is love. The love between Amy and Shine. That’s what fascinates me and drives me; that’s what’s important. Like I said, I’m a bit of a love detective because I’m always looking for answers. And there has to be an answer to the question of how Amy and Shine can be together, I think determinedly. There just has to be a way to solve this mystery.
First, however, I need a coffee.
Setting off in no particular direction, I head down one of the busy streets towards a large clock tower. I barely slept last night and it’s all starting to catch up with me. I feel exhausted, both physically and emotionally. My mind trails off. Alone, memories of last night are starting to resurface and I have to force thoughts of Jack to the back of my mind. It’s over, I remind myself sharply. It was over before it even began. I’m never going to see him, or think about him, ever again. I can’t. I won’t.
Across the street I spot a small, hand-painted sign advertising ‘Real Espresso’, hanging outside a small doorway. It’s not Starbucks, but it’ll do. Dodging the stream of rickshaws and mopeds, I make it to the other side and enter up a narrow staircase that opens out at the top into a small café. It’s obviously a backpacker favourite, as there are quite a few lounging around inside and out on the wooden veranda, clutching their dog-eared guidebooks and drinking coffee, whilst in the corner is the requisite computer on which to check Facebook.
‘Hi, I’d like a cappuccino please,’ I say to the girl working behind the counter.
‘Anything to eat?’ she asks, passing me a menu.
I cast a dutiful eye over it, but I’ve no appetite. I haven’t eaten for hours, but just the thought of food makes my stomach churn. ‘No thanks, just the coffee.’
‘OK, please take a seat, I’ll bring it over,’ she smiles.
There’s a small rattan sofa near the window, and it’s empty. I sit down gratefully and glance abstractedly around at the other tourists, at a couple sitting together in the corner, chatting and s
miling, affectionate, happy. I watch them, feeling oddly detached. It’s hard to imagine that I was so happy just a few hours ago. It’s strange, but I don’t even feel upset or angry any more, I’m just numb. Everything feels unreal. Like none of it really happened.
A stash of well-worn magazines is lying on the table and I pick one up and start flicking through. It’s like an Indian version of Grazia, filled with lots of photographs of celebrities, most of whom I don’t recognise. I glance absently at the pictures, whilst my mind focuses back on Amy. I don’t have any bright ideas yet – to be honest I’m still trying to digest this whole new turn of events. Until a few moments ago I’d never even heard of Mangal Dosha or being a Manglik, and I still don’t fully understand it. However, it does sound pretty scary, almost like some kind of curse.
In which case, there must be a way to lift it. I mean, maybe there’s some kind of spell, or magic potion . . .
Er hello, Earth calling Ruby. What on earth are you talking about? Spells and magic potions? What is this, Harry Potter?
Feeling suddenly ridiculous, I glance around at the other customers and say a silent thank you that no one can actually read my mind. I’ve often thought that before, when I start daydreaming about all kinds of strange things whilst I’m sitting on the bus or the Tube, but this time people would think I really was completely gaga.
I try to focus back on my magazine, so at least I look normal, but I keep wracking my brains. There must be something we can do; there must be something—
I stop dead. I’ve been turning the pages on autopilot but now suddenly my eyes home in on the photograph of a stunningly beautiful Indian woman. Underneath the picture is a caption, out of which jumps a word. ‘Manglik.’
What the . . . ?
‘I’m sorry for the wait.’
I’m interrupted by the waitress bringing me my cappuccino.
‘Oh, no worries, thank you,’ I fluster, looking up from the article, then add quickly, ‘Excuse me, do you know who this is?’
The girl takes one glance at the photograph and laughs. ‘Why, of course, she’s a huge Bollywood star,’ she nods. ‘She married another very big Bollywood heartthrob.’