Nikki said. The impatience crept into her voice. ‘Finding your voice isn’t something which can be taught, at least not in the traditional sense. People write and then you guide them.’ She looked up to catch a smirk passing between Mum and Mindi. ‘It’s hard work,’ she added.
‘Good, good,’ Mum murmured. She folded a roti and drove it across the plate, scooping up the chickpeas.
‘It’s a great opportunity,’ Nikki insisted. ‘I’ll have a chance to do some editing as well, which I can add to my CV.’
‘So do you think you want to be a teacher or an editor?’ Mindi asked.
Nikki shrugged.
‘They just sound like two very different things, being a teacher or working in publishing. You like writing as well. Are you going to contribute to these stories as a writer?’
‘Why does it have to be defined?’ Nikki asked. ‘I don’t know what I want to be, but I’m getting there. Is that all right with you?’
Mindi held up her hands in a gesture of surrender. ‘It’s fine with me. I’m just trying to find out more about what you’re doing, that’s all. You don’t have to get so defensive.’
‘I’m doing something to help empower women.’
Now Mum looked up and she and Mindi exchanged a look of worry. ‘I saw that,’ Nikki said. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Aren’t the majority of your students going to be temple ladies?’ Mindi said.
‘So?’
‘So be careful,’ Mindi said. ‘It sounds like a class for beginning storytellers but if you think you’re going to change their lives by tapping into their personal experiences …’ Mindi shook her head.
‘The problem with you, Mindi—’ Nikki began.
‘That’s enough,’ Mum said. Her stern stare quieted Nikki’s protests. ‘You hardly ever come over for dinner, and then every time there’s an argument. If you’re happy with this job, then we’re happy. At least it means you don’t have to work in the disco any more.’
‘It’s a pub,’ Nikki said and this was as far as she went towards correcting Mum. She had neglected to mention that she would still be working at O’Reilly’s. The pay for empowering women through narrative would not fully cover her living expenses.
‘Just make sure you’re travelling safely. Are these night classes? What time do they finish?’
‘Mum, I’ll be fine. It’s Southall.’
‘Crimes don’t happen in Southall? I must be the only one who remembers Karina Kaur. You’ve seen the ads for Britain’s Unsolved Murders, no?’
Nikki sighed. Trust Mum to bring up a murder case from fourteen years ago to prove a point.
‘They never found out who did it,’ Mum continued. ‘The killer could still be on the loose, preying on Punjabi girls walking alone at night.’
Even Mindi rolled her eyes at Mum’s theatrics. ‘You’re being a bit dramatic,’ Mindi informed her.
‘Yeah, Mum. All kinds of girls get murdered in London, not just the Punjabi ones,’ Nikki said.
‘It’s not funny,’ Mum said. ‘It’s the parents left behind who suffer with worry when the children leave.’
After dinner, Mindi and Nikki took over the washing up in the kitchen while Mum retired to the living room to watch television. They scrubbed the pots and plates in silence until Mindi spoke up. ‘So Auntie Geeta’s recommended a few eligible bachelors. She gave me the email addresses of three guys that she shortlisted.’
‘Ugh.’ Nikki could think of no other response to Mindi’s mention of Auntie Geeta. She was a friend of Mum’s who lived up the road and often dropped in unannounced, her eyebrows wiggling with all the secrets she struggled to contain. ‘Not gossiping, just sharing,’ she always claimed before unpacking the ruins of other people’s private lives.
‘I emailed a few times with one guy who seemed okay,’ Mindi continued.
‘Lovely,’ Nikki said. ‘By this time next year you’ll be washing up in his kitchen instead of this one.’
‘Shut up.’ After a beat Mindi added, ‘His name is Pravin. Does that sound like an all right name to you?’
‘It sounds like a name.’
‘He works in finance. We’ve chatted on the phone once.’
‘So I go through all the trouble to post your profile on a noticeboard and you’ve enlisted Auntie Geeta as your matchmaker anyway?’
‘I didn’t receive any responses from the temple profile,’ Mindi said. ‘You’re sure you put it on the Marriage Board?’
‘Yes.’
Mindi studied her. ‘Liar.’
‘I did just as you asked,’ Nikki insisted.
‘What did you do?’
‘I put it on the Marriage Board. It just might not be the most prominent flyer there. There are lots of flyers and—’
‘Typical,’ Mindi muttered.
‘What?’
‘Of course you’d put the least amount of effort into helping me with this.’
‘I went all the way to a temple in Southall. That’s no small effort,’ Nikki shot back.
‘Yet you’ve signed on for a job which means you’ll be travelling there regularly. How does that work? You’re all right with going to Southall as long as it benefits your needs.’
‘It’s not all about me. I’m helping women.’
Mindi snorted. ‘Helping? Nikki, this sounds like another one of your …’ she waved as if trying to stir up the word from thin air. ‘Your causes.’
‘What’s wrong with having a cause?’ Nikki demanded. ‘I care about helping women tell their stories. It’s a much more worthwhile pastime than advertising for a husband.’
‘This is what you do,’ Mindi said. ‘You follow your so-called passions and don’t consider the consequences for other people.’
This charge again. It would be easier to be a criminal fairly prosecuted by the law than an Indian daughter who wronged her family. A crime would be punishable by a jail sentence of definite duration rather than this uncertain length of family guilt trips.
‘How exactly did my leaving university have consequences for other people? It was my decision. Sure, Dad could no longer tell his family in India I was becoming a lawyer. Big deal. It wasn’t worth being unhappy just so he could have bragging rights.’
‘It wasn’t about bragging rights,’ Mindi said. ‘It was about duty.’
‘You sound like an Indian housewife already.’
‘You had a duty to Dad. He had been so devoted to championing you – all those school debates, all those speech contests. He included you in political conversations with his friends and he didn’t stop you from arguing with Mum if he thought you had a point. He put such faith in you.’ There was a note of hurt in Mindi’s voice. Dad and Mum had taken Mindi on a trip to India before her exams as well, taking all spiritual steps to ensure that she got into medical school. After the results indicated nursing – not medical school – as her best option, Dad’s disappointment had been obvious and, with renewed enthusiasm, he shifted his focus to Nikki.
‘He was proud of you too, you know,’ Nikki said. ‘He wished I were more practical like you.’ Having been measured up against his brother his whole life, Dad had been careful to avoid comparing his daughters but after Nikki