off; her wedding and engagement rings and the cluster of diamonds that Sharat had given her on their tenth wedding anniversary. He was a perfect husband – mild mannered and courteous and generous with his wealth – and Neha was well aware of how many friends and cousins envied her her good fortune. Neha herself felt fortunate that, after all her problems at university, she had finally found someone like Sharat – her rock.
And so it was that, with all the charmed events that had gradually come after her return from England, Neha had eventually given her parents little cause for complaint. They now probably barely even remembered that Oxford dream they had all once shared. The topic hardly ever came up. It would be ridiculous indeed to harp on about that, given how Neha’s life had eventually turned out. Oh yes, today, seeing Neha return to her Prithviraj Road home in a gleaming Mercedes car, even Mama would be forced to admit that – apart from not having borne a child so far – her daughter’s life was pretty immaculate too.
Chapter Eight
In the kitchen of the Shaw household, Laura gave her special chicken broth a final stir before taking out a stack of soup bowls from the cupboard. Richard wandered in, inhaling appreciatively. ‘Tim’s upstairs, I take it,’ he said, cocking a brow at the fourth place setting on the kitchen table.
‘They’ve been up there all afternoon,’ Laura responded, starting to ladle the broth into bowls. ‘Probably getting Sonya’s suitcase packed. Y’know, I’d have been so much happier if Tim had been going along too. The thought of two girls wandering around on their own in India worries me terribly …’
‘Wonder why he didn’t offer,’ Richard said, nibbling on a breadstick.
‘Tim? Oh, I don’t think he was even given a chance. Sonya’s reaction to that suggestion was even stronger than when I asked if you could go along. Remember how indignant she was then?’
‘Well, I could see why she didn’t want me trailing after her and Stel, cramping their style. But Tim would have been a nice halfway compromise. Most girls want to go off on holiday with their boyfriends, don’t they?’ Richard’s face wore a genuinely baffled expression.
Laura sighed, ‘I think we both know that our Sonya just isn’t like “most girls”. Poor ol’ Tim … from what I can tell, she’s been giving him quite the brush-off lately.’
‘Oh?’
Laura smiled as she brought the tray to the table. Despite being one of the most sensitive souls she knew, Richard tended not to notice things until they were right under his nose or carefully pointed out to him. ‘It’s a shame really,’ she explained. ‘Tim’s such a nice lad. But Sonya was saying the other day that she thinks she’s outgrown him. Outgrown him – I ask you!’
Richard shook his head and took a steaming bowl off the tray that Laura was holding. ‘What is it with these kids? We never even imagined we had the option of outgrowing each other, did we, darling?’
Laura put the tray down and ruffled her husband’s thinning hair, reaching out to pat the swell of his belly with her other hand. ‘Hmmm, maybe you outgrew me just a little bit around here, chuck,’ she joked. Before he could think of a retort, she left the kitchen to call up the stairs. ‘Sonya, supper!’
Sonya’s distant ‘Coming!’ floated down as Laura returned to the table. ‘They’re not like we were, today’s kids,’ Laura continued, sitting down. ‘So much more hard-nosed about everything.’
Richard, who always tended to be more forgiving in his opinions, responded in his usual mild fashion. ‘I don’t know if I’d call it hard-nosed or being pragmatic. And that may not necessarily be a bad thing …’
They stopped talking as footsteps came thumping down the stairs and the subject of their conversation flounced in, boyfriend in tow. ‘Ah, come on in, you two, soup’s going cold,’ Richard welcomed them cheerily.
‘Tim’s not staying,’ Sonya said, sitting down and pulling a bowl towards herself.
‘Oh dear, whyever not? I’ve made plenty,’ Laura cried.
Tim opened his mouth to respond but Sonya spoke first. ‘His mum wants him home for supper because she’s going out and Chloe needs babysitting.’ Tim nodded dolefully by way of confirmation while Sonya sprinkled garlic croutons from a packet into her soup.
‘Quick bowl of soup before you go, old chap?’ Richard asked, ignoring the glare Sonya threw at him.
Tim shot a look at Sonya and then shuffled his feet around before responding hesitantly. ‘It’s awfully kind of you, Mr Shaw. Oh, and Mrs Shaw, of course. I really do so enjoy your food. But I really have to be off. My mother will be waiting … she has aerobics classes on Thursday nights, you see …’
‘Ah, one can’t be late for one’s aerobics,’ Richard said, getting up to fetch himself a second helping of soup from the tureen.
‘It’s sweet of you, Tim, to be taking care of your baby sister,’ Laura said, adding, ‘if I’d known you had to be home, I’d have served supper earlier. It would have been no effort …’
‘Well, he’s already late and you’ll make him even later if you don’t let him go now,’ Sonya said, blowing at the liquid in her soup spoon.
‘Yes, better be off,’ Tim said, straightening up. He bowed in one direction and then the other as though in royal company while mumbling, ‘Good night, Mr Shaw, good night, Mrs Shaw … See ya, Sonya …’ He threw a last pleading look at Sonya who waved vaguely in his direction before he ambled reluctantly out of the room.
Laura cocked her head at the door, frowning at Sonya. ‘Do go and see him off, darling,’ she hissed.
Richard nodded in agreement. ‘Yes, it’s the least you can do, sweetheart.’
Sonya rolled her eyes upwards and slurped her soup before yelling loudly, ‘Bye Tim, mind how you go!’ But the sound of the front door closing indicated that Tim had already left without hearing her.
Laura sighed deeply. Sonya had been a lovely child and they had sailed through her adolescent years without any of the tantrums and rebellion Laura had heard terrifying tales of from various exhausted friends with teenage children. But something had got into Sonya lately and Laura couldn’t help blaming the whole Adoption Register thing, and especially that Chelsea who had first told Sonya about it. It was too late to wish it away now, as Richard constantly reminded her, but Laura would have done anything to turn the hands of the clock back to before that horrid day on which Sonya had come back from a party talking about wanting to look for her birth mother.
Laura glanced now at her beautiful adopted daughter who was slurping down her soup apparently without a care in the world. What did she know of the pain that Laura and Richard had gone through, first with all the miscarriages they had suffered, and then at the hands of Social Services while they were being screened as potential adopters? Each step in that tortuous process had felt like a gargantuan hurdle, all that tedious form-filling and those interviews, people wandering about their home, sticking their noses into everything and asking awkward questions. From what Laura could remember, virtually every single social worker they had come in contact with had been insensitive to the point of rudeness during the years it had taken them to be assessed. There had even been one who had suggested that Laura wanted to adopt a child only to satisfy her own emotional neediness! ‘Your need to be needed,’ the smug cow had said, smirking! But everything – yes, all of that – had seemed worthwhile when they had finally got their dream child.
Laura still carried that first sight of Sonya close to her heart, like a precious faded photograph. She had been less than a month old when the Shaws were first told about her. Social Services had not considered them ideal at first, the child being of mixed race. But, as the right ethnic mix had not been on offer amongst the many waiting couples on the agency’s adoption lists, Laura and Richard had eventually been offered Sonya, though only on a conditional basis at first. There were still many post-placement assessments to be conducted, they were warned. But, the minute