A Book In A Month - Chapter 22

For John, his computer course had delivered new skills and the chance of new love. With heating cranked up to full in his little apartment, he sorted through his photo collection to find the ones that Clara had selected as the most helpful. They had been piled up to one side of the rejected images, but, sadly, they had been intermingled when John had another attack of tidyitis, as he liked to call it. As He was going to take them with him today and learn the dark art of scanning. Dylis would help him, he was sure of that, even though it was not on the syllabus and he had not arranged this diversion with her. John was pretty sure that Dylis would help him as she was very taken with his research on India. Her romantic notions about the Silk Route had been the catalyst that bound them together, so she could refuse him nothing.

Photographs located and stuffed into his coat pocket, heating turned off, John left for a day at the college. He was so well muffled up that it would have been difficult for even his daughter to recognise him. The hard frost could not, would not, penetrate his defences. He began his slow walk to his lessons.

*

Keith, Clara and Jane were almost ready to go on their holiday. They decided that a night out would be a great idea. They could use it to finalise their plans, check all their bookings for accommodation and travel. The rest of the gang were planning a bit of a send off for their friends. It was going to be a Friday night to remember. The holiday makers had actually stayed sober. The freezing weather had cut them to the bone as they walked back to Keith's place. The drunken members of the group were oblivious to the cold, striding along with the help of each other, collapsing in intermittent bouts of hot giggles. The gang finally made their way to Keith's flat at three in the morning. Clara is fascinated as her friends sort themselves out for bed. Teas and coffees are made, and rooms selected. She had always been so drunk by this time of the night, that she had no recollection of it.

“I know,” Jane whispered, “It's all new to me too. Although, obviously, I've never been as drunk as you.”

“Do you think I drink too much, Jane?”

“When you drink, you drink to the point of oblivion. You're like a teenager.” Came the response.

“I'm going to cut back. After this holiday, I'm going to be a new girl.” Clara vowed earnestly.

“Hey, what's brought this on. I didn't want to go out with a bloody nun.” Jane said as she closed in to give Clara a hug.

Keith breezed through the living room, sober, tidying up his flat. He glanced at the embracing women “That's one way to keep warm; me, I'm having a hot water bottle. ” he called out as he disappeared into the kitchen with empty mugs. “I'll just do this and then get out of your hair.” Night girls,

The girls, in mid hug, watched him from the safety of their embrace, snatched a kiss and broke off. They needed to get ready for bed. There would be a lot to do on Saturday. They knew that they would need to be up early in the morning, or at least, at some point in the morning. The others would not manage to crawl out of their pits until lunch time, as usual.

Keith popped his head around the kitchen door, “Is it safe to come in?” He was holding a couple of hot water bottles to his chest. “If I had a girlfriend I wouldn't need these. Night you two.” He padded his way back across the room, as the girls laughed at him.

*

By the time the gang has crawled out of bed, Keith, Clara and Jane had checked all the details surrounding their trip. Keith was in need of a photocopier, he had decided to take some copies of his mothers photos with him. He had, with the help of the other two, chosen images of his mother at various ages and some of his family. He hoped that his relatives in India might like to look at them and, perhaps, have some to keep. He might also be able to track down other people who had known his mother if he had a few spares with him. It was a trip into town for the group. Naturally they all found their way to the bookshop and in particular, the coffee shop with it's aroma of cinnamon and vanilla tempting them to have cake as well as the coffee that they had come in for.

The photocopying had been done. Short of the final hand baggage packing, they were ready to go. In three days their normal nine-til-five routine would be wiped away, replaced, instead, by what Jane had described as 'purposeful holidaying'. The group chattered on, and customers came and went. The constant clatter of mugs and plates, combined with the rumble of voices and the sweet smell of food flooded their senses with all things western. Jane looked away from her friends for a moment to take in the scene. The cafe was packed and muggy. She studied the people at the other tables; a multi-cultural gathering that probably represented every continent on the planet. The back of an old mans' head caught her eye. “Clara.” she said, “Look over there. Isn't that your dad?”

Clara swivelled in her seat and, as people do when they have an intimate knowledge of some one, she spotted her father immediately. “Dad!” she yelled across the heads of at least a dozen other customers. He did not respond. “Bloody hearing aid,” Clara bemoaned to her audience of fellow coffee aficionados. “Sorry.” She was embarrassed to have the eyes of most of the cafe upon her. Clara apologised to her friends and began to pick her way through the maze of chairs with their engrossed occupants and the maze formed by the clumsily dropped bags and boxes of shopping.

John and Dylis were sitting in comfortable silence, drinking coffee and staring into space.

“Dad.” Clara said as she put her hand on his shoulder. He started out of his revere, Dylis smile as recognition drizzled into her. “Hello you two.”

Dylis was so excited to meet Clara again that she held her in feverish conversation about the upcoming holiday. Eventually the gang decided to join John, Dylis and Clara and they surged across the cafe by any available route in order to get to them. Some brought their chairs with them, the others lived in hope that this jam packed little coffee shop would still have a few spare seats. John and Dylis were overwhelmed by almost ten thirty and forty somethings. They relished the attention, they relished being part of the excitement that was this group of 'young people'. Dylis insists on hearing the full itinerary Alan insists on fresh coffee all round, on him. Their corner of the cafe took on a party air with the chatter centring on the Dhaka area and it's links to both families. Clara was particularly pleased that the hotel Simon had used was still trading, although it was used by Indians, rather than westerners and would be 'very basic', she had said. If it was too awful, they could decamp to a more modern place, once they had made their investigation. Keith insisted that some of his family members were keen to show hospitality to the holiday makers.

Keith explains his mothers' secrecy and says he wants to know what the problem was that made her want to get away. Certainly her departure was said to have brought great shame on the family. Her marriage had been arranged and she simply ran away. He said he also wouldn't mind knowing where her money came from, because her family in India were not that well off, although they were Anglo Indian, and comfortable by Indian standards. Conversely his mother was well off by British standards. John tells him there will be an explanation, he must be brave enough to ask about it. He says that since his mother died he is free to enquire. His sisters are curious too and have, he says given him some money towards his trip. That was how he and the others had been able to take so long away from their practises. The three of them had put the gift of money into their 'holiday pot'. It was how they had also been able to afford to tour some of the iconic sites the country had to offer. It was a very generous gift.

Dylis was enchanted by the plans and offered a near perfect swoon when Jane listed the tourist sites they planned to visit after the Delhi and Dhaka legs of the holiday.

“Oh, how wonderful. I have always held onto a dream that I might, one day, see the Taj Mahal. Too old now. Too romantic for an oldie like me.” Dylis was quietly spoken, theatrically so.

Her yearning statement pulled the group to a natural lull. Both the chatter and coffee had become low, the group said that they had nothing else to do in town today, as they had finished the photocopying. Dylis demanded a view of the pictures that Keith planned to take away with him. She had, after all, seen the ones that Clara would take. Keith produced his wallet and showed Dylis and John the small set of s. He had several copies of each image so that he could give them away. Dylis comments on his beautiful sisters and how lovely his mother looked.

John, who was agreeing with Dylis about the obvious charms of Keith's siblings suddenly choked violently on his coffee as a picture of Keith's mother was revealed. Tears streamed down his reddened face, his voice came in a squeak. He kept shaking his head as he coughed loudly. The other customers began to stare at him. He put his cup down shakily and whispers hoarsely, “That can't be your mother?”

“I know”, says Keith, “Clara is the image of her, and, if it comes to that she looks just like one of my sisters too! I should have warned you.” John re-composed himself. Beneath the table, he gripped his knees tightly, as he tried stop his fingers trembling and, also, to prevent the rising tide of adrenalin from making his legs disappear from under him. He wanted to run out of the place. He said faintly, “I don't know why, but that really was a shock. I am a silly old fool.”

Dylis then took a second look. She pointed out that, in her opinion, it was less that Clara looked Asian and more that Keith's mum was not fully Asian, and, of course, he and his sisters have even less Asian blood running through them. “Its a strong resemblance,” she told them with her usual high authority, “No more than that. We see what we want to see.”

They all go their separate ways after that. Keith is really impressed with Johns' reaction to the photo. He said, “It's as if your dad had seen a ghost.”

After a silence that drifted along The High Street and on through time, Jane said, “Well, perhaps, to him, that's how it felt. He was seeing Clara in 30 years time. That has to be pretty freaky by any standards. Worse than that, because your mum has passed away, John was seeing the mortality of Clara in hard print.” They accuse her of going overboard on the psychobabble and step up their pace.

Dylis was enchanted by the plans and offered a near perfect swoon when Jane listed the tourist sites they planned to visit after the Delhi and Dhaka legs of the holiday.

“Oh, how wonderful. I have always held onto a dream that I might, one day, see the Taj Mahal. Too old now. Too romantic for an oldie like me.” Dylis was quietly spoken, theatrically so.

They run through their itinerary and say they've booked in at the hotel in Dhaka used by Simon. Keith and John get into conversation about India, the places they've been and their family ties.

They were flying out in three days and agree to meet up on Monday at work to organise the pictures they were taking with them and to make a record of addresses and dates that they might need to reference while they were away. List what taking.