Authors: Joya Victoria
“You are a brute, Derek. Don’t you ever think of the consequences?”
“What should I do?”
“I don’t know. What should you do?” Charles stood up to leave.
“Please, Charles. Wait. I was mistaken. I thought she was in acquiescence, I was wrong. So dreadfully wrong. But I will have to make it right, somehow.”
Charles went up to his dear friend and brushed his shoulder lightly. “The best would be to return and resume your relationship with Hannah.”
Charles left Derek slumped in the chair looking dejected and forlorn.
Miranda woke up after another fretful night.
Her mother was in the garden at the back of the house, watering the wilting plants. The day was already turning out to be hot, and
the air felt very still. The garden umbrella was up, and everything looked so bright and dazzling. Mira made her way to the garden and her mum. Her darling mum, solid and loving. Oh so very loving. Her eyes suddenly filled with tears, she loved her mum so. Mira ran to her mother and gave her a very big hug.
“Oh, Mum,” she said and buried her face in her mother’s ample bosom. Her mother and father had had to work hard for the little luxuries of life, including this lovely house—semidetached, as her mother never failed to emphasize.
Miranda often thought of her father who had passed away a few years ago.
“Did you have a good time last night, dear?” Molly asked.
“Yes, Mum,” she said, her face still buried in her mum’s chest.
Molly slowly stroked her daughter’s lovely hair. This only daughter of hers, how much she loved her. “There, there,” she said in a very gentle voice. “Let’s sit in the garden. Maybe we should have some lunch,” she said. With a jolt Mira realized that it was late afternoon and Mum had been waiting for her to come downstairs to have lunch. She wanted lunch desperately—and a big cup of milky coffee! The aroma of freshly baked bread was making her hungry.
“I’ll get lunch and bring it out,” Miranda said and ran indoors by the back patio doors to the dining room. The wide patio doors were open, and part of the dining room was flooded in sunlight.
“Why can’t it be like this always?” she mused, opening the fridge. The salad was already mixed and waiting. She took it out, cut some lemon, and also brought out cold chicken and bread. That was it and a bottle of milk in the fridge to go with it. Mira placed it all on a tray and carried the laden tray to the garden and placed it on the table under the umbrella. Molly was already seated in one of the cozy chairs waiting for her daughter.
“So tell me all about it, darling. How was it?” She helped herself to some bread as Mira proceeded to tell her mum all about it: Derek, the drive along King’s Road, and his beautiful flat on a side street off King’s Road—of course leaving the events of the end of the night untold. Those details she kept buried in the deep recesses of her
heart. She could not talk about it, least of all to Mum. Not even Charu would ever know what had occurred that night.
The afternoon was hot, and mother and daughter felt reluctant to go inside. They both dozed off, and it was dark when they woke up from their afternoon siesta feeling very contented and happy.
“Let me give you a hand carrying the dishes in,” Molly said, stacking the dishes.
Miranda did not expect to see or hear from Derek again, and she tried to push the entire incident to the back of her mind. Trying to analyze the situation was of no help. She was very depressed, upset and angry with herself for giving in so easily to him. Why had she agreed to go out with him? Was she falling in love? And so easily? Couldn’t she have resisted him? He had not bothered to call her, and she had expected an apology. What a silly thought! How could she be so very silly?
She clutched the steering wheel very tightly, angry. She should have been determined and forceful. No meant no.
She was driving her little Mini. Usually she took the tube to work which was easier as she did not have to look for a parking space, but if it was too cold or she felt a bit lazy she did drive her little car to work, which was seldom. She remembered right after her driving test when she’d opted to buy the Mini—what a lot of toing and froing! Mum asking the neighbors, should she or should she not. However, as usual, Miranda had her way, and she bought the Mini, with some financial help from Mum. But at this moment she was in a world of her own.
“Are you home, darling?” she heard Molly’s voice call from the back of the house as she entered. It was her mother’s usual greeting even though her mother knew full well that the only person it could be was her daughter. But it was a greeting of endearment, a mother’s love.
Molly was busy folding the clothes and linens she had spread on the clothesline to dry that morning.
“By the way,” Molly said as she walked in from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron, “a very nice young man by the name of Derek called. He was looking for you. I told him you had not got back from work. He will call again, that’s what he said.”
Miranda was stunned. The audacity of the man. How dare he!
“He came here? You mean, Mum, that he came to this house?” Miranda stopped in her tracks. She went crimson, feeling the heat of color gradually starting to creep up her face. She could hardly believe her ears! “You mean, Mum, that he knocked on our door?”
“You are repeating yourself, dear,” Molly said. “He was awfully nice. I asked him in for a cup of tea. I was having one so I asked him to join me, and he agreed!”
Miranda could hardly believe what she as hearing. Was it a dream or was it really happening?
“You offered him tea?”
“And cakes, I suppose,” she sneered. There was an edge to Miranda’s voice that Molly was surprised to detect. What was the matter with her daughter? It must be the heat, poor dear, affecting her.
“Oh, he knew who I was. He wished me good evening and said, ‘Hello, Mrs. Stewart. When do you think Miranda will be home?’”
Miranda stood there rooted to the ground, not knowing whether to cry or laugh—what a rogue, making up to her mother!
Molly could not contain herself; she was dying to know all about this wonderful man who had called.
Miranda was not giving anything away. She knew her mother; in no time her little group of friends would know all about Derek, and who knew where it would all end? By the time the ladies finished with them they would be married with children. So Miranda held her tongue, making Molly visibly upset.
The telephone rang, and Miranda rushed to answer it.
“Mira?” that voice aloof and drawling “I was in your area a little while ago.
You have such a sweet and a wonderful mother,” he hastened to add.
Sucking up to her, she thought. What a rogue.
“I know,” Miranda replied. There was a distinct coldness in her voice. She did not want to let Derek know how happy she was that he had called. She could have danced with joy, she was so excited.
“What about coming to Paris with me tomorrow?”
“What?” she said. “What?” she said again. “You are not putting me on?” She did not believe him.
“I’ve got the tickets,” he said. “I want you to come. Please, Mira,” he carried on. “Please say yes.” He was being very persuasive, albeit very gently.
“You bought a plane ticket for me?” She couldn’t believe her ears. This man without even consulting her had gone ahead and bought her a plane ticket for Paris! It was incredible.
After what had happened yesterday? Was it a dream or a reality? Was it really happening to her?
“Say yes, please,” Derek said again, cajoling her into agreeing. “Do you want me to come over now to your place and beg you on bended knee?” He always managed to have such a coaxing voice. The way he spoke to her, it was extremely difficult to say no. He could make her laugh, too.
“It’s such a short notice,” Miranda said, knowing full well that she would give in. Her heart was beating fast, her pulse rapid. She had never been out of London. A few times, when her father was alive, they had taken a few trips to the seaside at South-end—that was her only traveling experience.
By the time the call with Derek ended she was as red as a beet root. Thank God her mother was not near her, although she was hovering around trying to catch snippets of the conversation.
Derek took it for granted that she would be joining him. It was decided that Derek would pick her up the next morning—and after that? She was completely in the dark regarding the agenda in Paris. Was this really happening?
The only thing to do now was to pack a small bag and wait. Miranda was in a quandary, trying to make up her mind about what to take. She had never met anybody like Derek before. He was so rich he could go and buy tickets for other people at the drop of a hat.
The next morning was slightly chillier than the last few days, and dull. The feel of autumn was in the air, so Miranda decided to travel in a light pair of slacks and a light jacket just in case it turned chilly. It was the only smart jacket she possessed, so it would have to do.
The doorbell rang, and she could hear her mother inviting Derek in. By the time she came downstairs both of them were chatting away like old friends.
“Oh, there you are!” they said in unison.
“Oh, Mrs. Stewart,” Derek hastened to add, “look after yourself. You won’t be missing your daughter, will you? She will be home, soon!” he added gaily.
Molly giggled like a young girl. She was so taken with this lovely young man. She hoped something concrete occurred after this trip—an engagement hopefully!
Miranda hugged and kissed her mother and said good-bye.
“Can I give you a kiss, Mrs. Stewart?” Derek asked, bending down to give Molly a kiss on her cheek.
They turned to go, and Derek took the little bag Miranda was tightly clutching from her.
“You look very pretty,” he said as they made their way to his car. She did not answer.
Miranda felt shy around him, remembering the other night. She could already feel herself wanting him and the desire slowly building up even though she felt somewhat scared and ashamed.
She let him hold her hand, surprising herself by being so bold.
The surprise that awaited Miranda was beyond her wildest imagination. When they reached the airport, Derek drove to a special designated area where someone was waiting to take the car from him.
It was her first plane ride she could hardly contain herself ! Miranda was like a child, excited and scared! holding onto her seat for her dear life during take off, in case she fell off the plane!
By the time they reached Paris it was late afternoon. A car was waiting for them at Orly Airport to drive them to the hotel where
Derek and his parents usually stayed when they were in Paris. It was an expensive hotel, as it was bound to be when Derek was involved. The manager himself came to meet them. They had adjoining suites with connecting doors.
“You have a room all to yourself,” Derek assured her.
She did not say anything. She was nervous, excited. All her feelings surfaced at once.
She felt strangely elated, so much so that when Derek came to her room via the adjoining door, tears sprung to her eyes.
Slowly, gently he wiped away a tear that was gradually rolling down her cheek. Ever so gently he pulled her to him.
“I feel so happy,” he said, “that you agreed to come with me. I am falling in love with you, Mira.”
In a very small muffled voice, she said, “Am I dreaming, or is it real?”
Derek bent down to kiss her fully on the lips, and she returned the kiss eagerly. The streetlights had come on, and the view from the hotel balcony across the river Seine was breathtakingly beautiful. The glittering lights were bouncing off the river. Someone was playing the accordion. It was an ethereal experience for Miranda, who had never experienced anything like this before.
Dinner was at a very small French restaurant not far from their hotel, practically on the banks of the river. The décor of the quaint restaurant that Derek had chosen had a medieval tinge to it. The stone floor was uneven, and the walls had an unfinished look. There were a number of little tables scattered around the room as if in a careless manner but at the same time very carefully arranged. This gave it an enchanted and haunting look. The strange and cozy ambience was accentuated by the little lamps adorning each table. It was almost dark, making it practically impossible to see the menu.
After their expensive dinner they decided to take a stroll along the river.
“Do you want an ice cream?” Derek asked, his voice slightly tinged with a suppressed mirth.
“No,” Mira replied, holding Derek’s arm and clutching it very tightly.
“They sell delicious homemade ice cream nearby. Are you sure you will not have any?” “Yes, why not?” she said, hanging onto Derek’s arm.
Music was everywhere; there was music in the air. For Miranda music was in every pore of her being. Someone was playing the accordion, and the shimmering lights on the river were moving gently in time with the music.
The whole ambience was enchanting, and being a late-summer evening, there was a slight chill in the air. Miranda was glad she had brought her cashmere wrap with her, the one and only wrap she had, a present from Charu who had brought it all the way from India on her last visit.
They slowly strolled back to the hotel, arm in arm, lingering briefly on one of the bridges, admiring and savoring an enchanting and hauntingly beautiful Paris evening. She was devouring the Paris air. She took in a deep breath, inhaling it, filling her lungs.
Derek was enchanted as well. Miranda was such an uncomplicated individual, pretty and unsophisticated. He encircled her with his arm and pulled her gently to him.
The manager came running as soon as he saw them entering the hotel foyer.
“Monsieur, monsieur, telephone for you, from England. They will call again in a half hour.” He spoke superb English with a French accent.
Thanking him, Derek led her toward the elevator.
The old elevator doors made a tremendous clanking noise every time they opened and shut.
They had hardly reached their floor when the call came. It was an executive from his London office telling Derek he would have to leave for India as soon as possible; in fact, they were booking his ticket for him to fly out within the next few days. There was some trouble at one of the gardens. Derek looked very solemn as he got off the telephone.