She was startled by the question, uttered so clearly that it broke the silence in the room. Why was she ashamed? Because she was supposed to be; because women, especially at her age, did not ask for these sorts of pleasures. She blushed, thinking of the uninhibited moans that escaped her mouth – from every part of her body it seemed – as she drew Sarab in closer and closer. What if the neighbours heard? It had not even occurred to her last night.
Sarab’s side of the bed was empty as usual. He was always awake before her. His morning routine involved showering and then sitting in the living room with his newspaper. What was he thinking of her now? He was probably wondering what happened; what had inspired her to reach out for him like that? Worse, he would think that there was something wrong with her, he would think that she liked it, couldn’t get enough of it. That would be humiliating. Disgraceful.
Why?
Well, Kulwinder thought, he had liked it too hadn’t he? She recalled his grunts, his gasps of surprise. If he enjoyed it, then who was he to complain or ask her why it happened?
‘Sarab,’ Kulwinder called out. It was best to settle this now. To explain to him that last night’s behaviour was a response to those stories, nothing else. A moment of weakness. They did not have to discuss it any further.
There was no answer. She called out for him again. Nothing. Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, Kulwinder held the sheet taut against her breasts, leaned out the door and bellowed her husband’s name. He called back. ‘I’m in the kitchen,’ he said.
Curious, Kulwinder scurried around the room finding her clothes. As she descended the stairs, she could make out faint sweet spices in the air. She sniffed her way to the kitchen and found Sarab standing at the stove, a pot bubbling in front of him. Black leaves and spices bubbled to the surface in a soupy mixture – too thick, Kulwinder immediately noticed, but she was too surprised to say anything. ‘Since when did you start making tea around here?’ she asked.
‘You have made it every morning for the last twenty-seven years,’ Sarab replied. He stirred a spoon through the mixture. ‘I have seen you do it countless times. I’d like to think I know how to make a cup of chai.’
Kulwinder stepped up to the stove and turned it off. ‘You’re burning it,’ she said. ‘Sit down and I’ll make you a new pot.’
Sarab lingered on the spot and watched her pour the leaves out to start again. She looked up to see him smiling at her. ‘What?’ she asked irritably, her glance darting away. He reached out and gently tipped her face towards his. Their eyes met and her lips twitched. The laughter that they shared filled the room, a shot of intoxicating warmth like the first hint of summer. When they stopped laughing, they started again, and they noticed that they were both crying as well. They wiped each other’s tears away.
‘Those stories,’ Sarab gasped. ‘Those stories.’ He was delighted.
Chapter Fourteen
A ghostly mist floated between the parked cars and trees as Nikki walked briskly to the supermarket for her weekly shopping, hiding her face in the fleece-lined collar of her jacket. As she was about to leave the store, her phone buzzed in her pocket.
‘Hey, Min. What’s going on?’
‘Listen, I was just having lunch with the girls, and Kirti’s fiancé is here – did I tell you she’s already engaged to a guy she met at speed dating?’
‘Nope,’ Nikki said. ‘Congratulations to her.’ She began walking briskly back to her flat, scrunching her face against a spray of rain.
‘But I called to ask you something. Kirti’s fiancé Siraj was saying there’s a class being offered in the temple in Southall for old bibis. Some sort of sex ed course.’
Nikki nearly dropped the phone. ‘Sex ed?’
‘I told him, my sister teaches English classes there and if there was such a thing I’d know all about it. Can you imagine? A sex ed class! For old Punjabi ladies! Hang on, I’ll put you on the phone to him.’
‘Wait,’ Nikki said. ‘I don’t want to talk to him. Where did he hear that?’
‘He said he heard it from some friends. Men can be worse gossips than women.’
‘What sorts of friends?’ Nikki asked.
‘I don’t know. Don’t worry, Nikki, nobody believes it. It’s not going to affect the reputation of your English classes, if you’re worried about that. Who would believe that a bunch of old bibis would be sitting around talking about sex?’
Nikki couldn’t help feeling protective over the widows. A fierce and sudden wind ripped through the air and sent Nikki’s hair flying in all directions. ‘You can tell Siraj that he’s wrong,’ Nikki said.
‘You’re wrong, Siraj,’ Mindi called. ‘My source is confirming it.’ In the background, Nikki could hear the irritating cooing of Kirti’s voice. ‘Aw, darling, it was a good story though, innit?’
‘Tell Siraj that my students write erotic stories. They don’t need sex education; they’re very well versed in what goes on the bedroom. They have wisdom which comes with age and experience,’ Nikki continued.
There was a long silence from Mindi. Nikki could hear the background noise of the restaurant fading away.
‘Say that all again. I couldn’t hear very well in there so I’ve gone outside.’
‘You heard me fine,’ Nikki said.
‘Nikki, are you serious? You’re running those classes?’
‘I wouldn’t call them classes. They’re more like sharing sessions.’
‘For old women to share what? Sex tips?’
‘Fantasies,’ Nikki said.
There was a sound that Nikki would have mistaken for a shriek of glee if she didn’t know her sister better. Nikki stopped mid-pace, letting her shopping bags slip from her wrists to the pavement. ‘Mindi?’ she asked uncertainly. Laughter, raw and wild, poured down the phone line.
‘I can’t believe it. The old bibis of Southall are writing erotic stories.’
‘You’re finding this funny?’ Nikki asked. ‘Mindi, are you drunk?’
Mindi giggled and her voice dropped to a whisper. ‘Oh, Niks, I wouldn’t normally, but we had a little bit of champagne at lunch to celebrate the engagement. I felt like I had to drink just to mute the sound of Siraj’s voice. He’s a nice guy but he’s very loud. When he was telling us about the classes, I felt the whole restaurant turning to look at us.’
‘Where did he hear the rumour from?’
‘I told you, some friends.’
‘Do you have any names specifically? Could you find out?’
‘I did ask before but Siraj was very vague, oh, just people I know. That’s why I thought it was all completely made-up. I could ask him again.’
‘No, don’t,’ Nikki said, changing her mind. She didn’t know this Siraj and she didn’t want it getting back to his friends – however remotely connected they might be to the Brothers – that she was searching for them.
‘Mindi, I should go,’ Nikki said. ‘I’m just walking home from the shops. I’ll call you back later.’
‘Noooo,’ Mindi moaned. ‘I have so many questions for you about these classes. Plus, I have something to tell you. I’m seeing someone. I want to talk to you about him. I think he’s the one.’
‘That’s great, Mindi. Does Mum know?’
‘She’s acting funny about it.’
‘Funny how? Has she met him?’
‘Not yet. It’s still really new. She’s just been in a mood lately. She doesn’t want me to get married because then she’ll be all alone in the house with nobody to talk to.’