and Madhav’s grandmother, who was also her grandmother and whom she called Aaji Ma had received her call.
Aaji Ma had abused her, calling her names and then had banged down the phone on her after hissing venomously, ‘No one here wants to even hear your name, let alone speak to you! You are dead to us. Don’t ever call here again!’
Gauri said in a low pain-filled voice, ‘I did call but Aaji Ma answered and said that Madhav Dada had returned to England and Baba didn’t want to speak to me ever again. She said that I was dead to everyone and forbade me from calling again.’
‘What a convenient explanation,’ Vikram sneered. ‘If you had called as you claim, why didn’t Aaji Ma ever mention it? She knew detectives had been employed to trace you and she wouldn’t have kept quiet. I don’t believe you. You should have chosen a better story,’ he delivered cuttingly.
‘I don’t believe you.’ The harsh, dismissive words reverberated in Gauri’s head like bullets. Pain sliced through her. The majority of her childhood had been spent hearing these words. Aching thickness clogged her throat as she recalled how she had been branded a liar and a cheat as a child. And the slur had always remained.
Being the illegitimate daughter of her father, who had brought her to live with his family when her mother died, she had always been regarded as being conniving and dishonest and had been punished all her childhood for the circumstances of her birth. She had grown up suffocated under a crushing burden of guilt, believing that being born was her unforgivable crime. But she had learnt to school the hurt and the pain and had rarely revealed the depth of her misery.
‘Whether you believe me or not doesn’t matter. Madhav Dada will believe me once I tell him,’ she asserted.
Naked emotion streaked across Vikram’s face before it was hastily masked. ‘And how do you propose to do that?’
Gauri looked at him uncomprehendingly and Vikram said, ‘Madhav is no more. He is dead.’
Gauri let out a faint cry. ‘No!’
She looked at Vikram in numb disbelief, sure that he was playing a cruel joke on her, but the bleakness in Vikram’s face convinced her more than his words. Madhav Dada was no more. Her dear brother was dead. There was a roaring in her ears. She swayed and felt the floor rushing to meet her as she slid down in a dead faint.
Vikram saw her collapsing and tried to catch her before she fell but couldn’t reach her in time. As Gauri slid down she knocked her head on the edge of a wooden side table and Vikram winced as the thunk echoed around the room. He should have relayed the news more gently but anger had overridden his usually unflappable control.
He picked her up and, after laying her on the sofa in the corner of the room, pressed the alarm on his watch. His driver came rushing in and he dispatched him to fetch a doctor. In the meantime, he filled a glass with water and splashed some drops on Gauri’s face.
Despite his deep rage, he couldn’t fail to notice how her beauty shone and beckoned. Held close, the perfection of her delicate features was magnified.
He had last seen her as a young girl on the threshold of womanhood and now she had matured into a breathtakingly beautiful woman. Her long lashes fanned out in perfect crescents against her flawless skin. Desire coiled dangerously in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to touch her. Against his will, his hand reached out to gently smooth away a strand of hair that had escaped her tight braid, and he felt the satiny silk of her skin. He cupped his hand around her pale cheek and gently nudged her, calling her name.
Gauri opened her eyes and saw Vikram bending over her, a grim look on his face. Her insides turned at his proximity when suddenly remembrance struck and she closed her eyes in agony. Madhav Dada is dead, her mind whispered.
She heard Vikram calling out her name softly but kept her eyes shut. She didn’t want to open them and see anger and accusation on his face. It was better to lie still, hoping the agonising pain in her heart would ease a little.
Suddenly, she heard the sound of her apartment door opening. She opened her eyes cautiously and saw a man enter and murmur something to Vikram in a low voice.
The next instant she was lifted up in Vikram’s strong arms. Shock held her still for a moment. In so many years, they had never been within touching distance ever and here he was, holding her in his arms. She tried to wriggle away, but in vain, as Vikram held her tight and told her sternly to keep still.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked weakly, ignoring the throbbing in her temples. Vikram didn’t deign to answer and she fell silent, defeated by his forbidding expression. Her body was tingling and even through the drumming in her head she was extremely conscious of his strong arms enfolding her. Held close to his masculine chest, she could inhale the cologne that he always wore and which had been a part of her restless dreams for so long. She stiffened, mortified and self-conscious, trying to mask the sensations running through her body.
Vikram carried her effortlessly down the stairs and she demanded, ‘Where are you taking me?’
He answered curtly, ‘To the doctor. Now keep still until my driver comes.’
He lowered her into his car and snapped the door shut. He then got in from the other side and an oppressive silence filled the car as they waited for his driver.
Gauri closed her eyes in despair. She was back into the morass of her memories. Grief engulfed her when she thought of Madhav. She would never see her beloved brother again. Never have her hair pulled by him teasingly or see the twinkle in his eyes as he joked with her.
So deeply was she sunk in her painful memories that she failed to register that Vikram’s driver had returned and only when the car began moving did she come back from the past. They soon reached a doctor’s clinic and when the car stopped Gauri opened the door, determined to avoid being carried inside in Vikram’s arms. By the time Vikram reached her from the other side she was standing on her own, ignoring the pain shooting up her temples. Vikram ushered her in with grim authority, where they were greeted by a kindly-looking doctor.
The doctor made her lie down and examined her pulse. ‘I am fine …’ she tried to protest and then felt another excruciating pain shoot up the side of her head. With a stifled moan, she put a hand up to the painful area and found it was quite tender. The doctor examined her head gently.
‘She knocked her head on the edge of the table when she fainted,’ Vikram told the doctor.
The doctor finished his examination and said, ‘The area will remain tender for a couple of days. She seems fine, except for some stress, but the blow on the head needs to be monitored for concussion. Although there is nothing to worry about, she should rest and sleep. Apply this ointment and I’ll also give her a painkiller with a mild sedative. And make sure that she is not alone for the next twenty-four hours.’
He held out a painkiller. But Gauri refused, saying, ‘I’ll be fine in a moment. I don’t need it.’
Vikram was immediately at her side and, taking the painkiller, said with gruff impatience, ‘Don’t argue! Just take it!’
Gauri tried to sit up and bit back a cry as pain shot up her head. Vikram pushed the painkiller at her, an implacable look on his face. She wanted to protest but when the throbbing increased she capitulated and downed it in one go. Then, summoning all her willpower, she stood up.
Vikram took hold of her elbow and shepherded her out of the clinic. He seated her in the car and slammed the door shut.
Gauri collapsed in the seat and a mind-numbing sorrow filled her. Thoughts of her half-brother and father engulfed her. Feelings she had kept buried for six long years inundated her and she bit back a sudden sob.
Her half-brother had been the pillar of her life and she had loved him so much. She would never get the chance to see him again. She tried to keep her grief at bay but it had burst its banks. Silent sobs convulsed her and tears ran down her face in rivulets. She bent over, hiding her face, trying to control her sobs, but her tears