Secrets and Lies. Jaishree Misra
have the decency not to carry on under my nose,’ Sam snapped.
‘Romance? What—me and Bubbles? You can’t be serious!’
‘Well, I think she is. And I think she thinks you feel the same.’ Sam was seriously annoyed but squawked in fright as her brother, who was gazing astounded at her, nearly ran into the back of a taxi.
‘You mean you hadn’t noticed about Bubs?’ she asked after Haroon and the taxi-driver he was overtaking had stopped gesticulating rudely at each other.
‘No! Since when?’ Haroon asked, adding an agonised, ‘Why?’
‘Beats me,’ Sam replied impolitely, before accusing Haroon, ‘Must have been something you said. You must have led her on in some way.’
‘Me? Lead Bubbles on? For God’s sake…I’ve known the kid since she was a snot-faced six-year-old!’
‘Oh, poor Bubs! So you don’t fancy her,’ Sam said. ‘She’s never had her heart broken before. And it’ll all be your fault! I hope you’re happy with what you’ve gone and done now, Haroon Hussain.’
‘But I haven’t done anything. Look, just tell her tomorrow that she’s got it all wrong, okay?’ Haroon wheedled. ‘Please?’
‘Why should I be burdened with breaking her heart? You’re the one breaking it. You tell her!’
‘Have a heart, Sam. I can’t say anything to her if she hasn’t said anything to me, can I?’
There was some logic to that, Sam had to agree. ‘Well, okay, I’ll try to say something to her,’ she said finally. ‘Not tomorrow, necessarily, but whenever I get the chance. And I don’t know when that will be, so don’t keep pestering me in the meantime, okay?’
‘Thanks, sis,’ Haroon said with relief, ‘I owe you one.’
Sam sighed, looking out of the window as they approached India Gate and the roads became quieter. The lawns flanking the road were brown from the summer sun and ice-cream vendors were plying a brisk trade along their edges. ‘Trouble is, Bubbles isn’t very good at picking up non-verbal cues. I’ll have to virtually hit her over the head with this information. Then she’ll probably start crying and—aaaaarrrrggghhh—why did the idiot have to go and fall for you, of all people, Haroon!’
‘Well, some people just can’t help their magnetic good looks and overwhelming charm, I guess,’ Haroon said, twinkling and then hollering ‘Owww’ as he earned a sisterly slap on his thigh.
LONDON, 2008
Bubbles sniffed her forearm appreciatively. Bergamot oil would help unwind her tense mind, the therapist at the Mandarin Oriental had assured her. The diminutive Chinese woman had been unfailingly sympathetic and gentle but, while being ministered to, Bubbles had not been able to help speculating that this woman was thinking, as all her therapists no doubt did: ‘What the hell do you, you beautiful, lazy, pampered wife of a millionaire, have to be stressed about?’ The staff at the Mandarin Oriental spa had emitted a collective sigh when Bubbles mentioned her recent cruise in the Bahamas, but little did they know how stressful it had been for her to play dutiful daughter-in-law throughout her two weeks trapped on the Minerva, not just to Binkie’s mother this time but to all her cousins and best friends too! There was no point trying to explain. These people would never understand anything,
The Bahamas cruise had been particularly difficult for Bubbles, because added to the usual stresses had been the effect of Lamboo’s recent letter. It wasn’t merely that the letter had been a shocking reminder of Lily and Haroon and all the terrible events of that winter. Bubbles had not been at all prepared for the manner in which Lamboo’s words would transport her back to her school years in Delhi and make her think of all the things she could have done to change her fortunes. She had spent much time on board the yacht thinking of the place she was in now, married on sufferance into a family to whom she was at best a convenience, rather than a loved and respected member. Of course, Bubbles could never say anything like that to anyone because she knew that no one in their right mind would ever look at her and think, ‘Oh, poor
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