Expecting to Fly (12 page)

‘Jaipur? Isn’t that also in Rajasthan, like Jodphur?’

Leela nodded.

‘I’ve seen travel brochures, I’ve always wanted to go there,’ said Bruno.

‘You should. It’s wonderful and utterly insane at the same time,’ said Leela. ‘Like, on the roads, you can be driving along and it’s common to see an elephant
stroll past or a family of pigs, hens, a camel, and then six men will ride past hanging off the back of a moped, and the number of people they get on one bus has to be seen to be believed, like
people up on the roof as well as packed inside. The place is so alive. Buzzing. Some of the houses there are beautiful. Lots of the original ones have been turned into hotels, but my grandmother
managed to keep hers. It’s been in the family for a long time.’

‘Sounds fascinating,’ said Bruno, and I could see that he was really looking at her, not just listening but looking with appreciation. ‘My father’s house in Italy has
also been with the same family for many centuries. It has such a sense of history there.’

‘I lived in Rajasthan too,’ I said, not wanting to be left out of the conversation. ‘In Udaipur.’

Bruno nodded. ‘Yes, I know.’

‘I thought you were born there,’ said Leela, ‘but didn’t actually live there for any length of time.’

‘Born, lived. Born, that’s what I meant.’

‘Have you been back?’ asked Bruno.

I shook my head.

‘Do you remember it at all?’ asked Leela.

I shook my head again. They were both looking at me expectantly and I was beginning to feel stupid. I had nothing more to add. ‘Um. Mum and Dad remember it, of course. They have loads of
stuff from there. We’ve put some silk paintings and photographs from there up in our new house.’

‘I know,’ said Leela. ‘I was there last week, don’t forget. You showed me.’

‘Yeah, I know. Um. I love Indian food . . . er, curry. Don’t you?’ I asked and they both nodded and Leela gave me a strange look, like I was off my head. I felt even more
stupid. I wished I’d come on my own with Bruno and then I could have shown off
my
knowledge of India, limited though it was, instead of Leela.

‘Jaipur is also the best place to buy gems,’ Leela continued, ‘so take some dosh with you if you go, Bruno, so you can buy something for the lady in your life.’ She gave
him another coy look.

‘No lady at the moment,’ said Bruno with a quick glance at me, then he grinned. ‘Work, work, work.’

Leela grinned back and looked up into his eyes. ‘I’m sure that won’t be for long.’

I couldn’t believe it. Major flirting was happening right under my nose. Major flirting with
my
Bruno. My
ex
-boyfriend but even so! We got to the ticket area where Bruno
insisted on paying for our tickets.

He handed us one each. ‘My treat. And I believe that Jaipur is also famous for the tailoring,’ he said as he linked arms with Leela and beckoned me to follow them. ‘When I
finally make it over there, maybe you could recommend places for me to go. You must give me your email before we part.’

‘Sure,’ said Leela. ‘Anything you need to know, just get in touch.’

I trudged after them feeling like a sulky teenager. Which is exactly what I was. Last time I had seen him, I had felt like a princess.
His
princess. Now I felt like lady-in-waiting to
Princess Leela – no, even worse, I wasn’t that, I wasn’t even the lady-in-waiting, I was the lady-in-the-way, the gooseberry.

I must make an effort to join in,
I thought, and walked faster so that I caught up with them. I couldn’t believe it. I heard him ask if Leela was seeing anyone.

‘No,’ she said and looked at him coyly.

‘How about you, India Jane?’ he asked.

‘Mfnf,’ came out of my mouth. Bruno was looking at me as if waiting for an answer. I didn’t know what to say. Bruno was my ex. We’d had a connection in Italy. Surely he
didn’t want to hear that I was blissfully in love with another boy?
Another question for Aunt Sarah,
I thought to myself. How to deal with exes?

‘Mff, yes, Joe . . . we have a lot in common. We go to the same school, too. Who wants some water? I might go to the shop before we go in,’ I blurted.

‘No thanks,’ chorused Bruno and Leela, then they both laughed.
Grrr,
I thought as I turned to go back to get my water.
How comfy cosy are they?

When I reached the shop, Leela caught up with me. ‘Er, I told Bruno I wanted some mints. Look. Is this OK with you?’ she asked. ‘Because I think he likes me.’

‘Yeah. Course,’ I said, and made myself smile through gritted teeth. ‘I think he does, too.’ Inside, I felt like my brain was about to explode. It wasn’t OK, but I
knew it would look mean if I said so. I knew I couldn’t lay claim to him. He was single. Leela was single. I was the one happy happy with my boyfriend, wasn’t I?

I went into the shop, bought water and mints then went back to join them in the exhibition. They were standing in front of a fabulous painting of a herd of flying elephants and they seemed very
comfortable with each other, chatting away like they’d known each other for ever. I trailed after them feeling more and more like I was in the way and, even though the paintings were
wonderful and colourful, I didn’t enjoy being there. After half an hour, Leela went off to find the Ladies and I was alone with Bruno at last.

‘You’re friend is cute,’ he said. ‘And very bright, so easy to talk to. I . . . um, well, you know I am over on my own and I wondered, would you mind if I took her out
while I am here?’

Whaddddddt? Take HER OUT? No WAY,
said a voice in my head.
You’re mine, mine, MINE.

‘No, course not, why should I mind?’ said a voice that came out of my mouth.

‘You are a fantastic girl, India Jane. So cool. That’s what I always liked about you. Some girls can be so irrational and possessive,’ he said and took my hand. ‘It can
be a bit lonely sometimes when I travel, so it would be lovely to have someone like Leela to hang out with. I was going to ask you but now, well, I wouldn’t want to tread on Jake
—’

‘Joe.’

‘— Joe’s toes.’

Knickers,
said the voice in my head.
Blooming bloomin’ knickers.
I liked Joe. I really did, but sometimes having a boyfriend really put the kibosh on things.

Leela came back from the Ladies and we did the rest of the exhibition. I walked around with them, we bought postcards of the paintings that we liked in the museum shop and, as I watched them
flirt away, I couldn’t help but think,
How in the heckity hoolah did this happen? How come all of a sudden, I am the odd one out?

We came out of the museum after an hour or so and my phone bleeped that I had a text. It was from Joe.

How’s it going with Bruno?

Gr8,
I texted back.
He sms 2 lke Leela. Lv is in the air.

He texted back.
Fantastic.

No, not fantastic,
I thought.

You are not a nice girl,
said one of the voices in my head.

I don’t care,
said another.
Bruno is mine. Was mine. So is Tyler. And so are all the boys in the whole world, mine mine mine.

‘I am going mad,’ I said out loud and a white-haired lady who was passing smiled.

‘Aren’t we all, dear?’ she said.

‘Here we are,’ said Joe’s mum when we got to the end of a lane at the top of a steep hill behind the train station in Bath. In front of us was a Georgian town
house with a wrought-iron veranda and garden at the front.

‘It’s so pretty,’ I said. ‘Feels like the middle of the country although it’s in town.’

Joe got out and opened the car door for me. I had been really looking forward to our trip because, even though there would be grown-ups around, Joe’s mum had made it clear that she was
happy for Joe and me to go off on our own. I had spent an hour or two researching Bath on the internet and I knew it was going to be the most romantic weekend ever. Three whole days with Joe.
Heaven. After my day out with Bruno, I’d reminded myself how lucky I was to have Joe, and I had given myself a severe telling off about being so jealous of Leela and him liking each other. I
had a fab boy who liked me and who also lived in England. Poor Leela, if she did fall for Bruno, she was going to find it hard, because long-distance love and contact by emails wasn’t the
same as having a live boy to go to the movies with, hang out with after school and have regular snogging sessions with.

A middle-aged couple opened the front door and came out smiling. Both were tall and willowy, the man had a shock of white hair and was dressed in a fleece and cords and the woman had long,
silver hair tied up at the back. She was very striking, with fabulous cheekbones, and must have been stunning when she was younger. She was dressed in a green kaftan top, jeans and had ropes of
beads around her neck. Very bohemian.
Mum would love her,
I thought.

‘Uncle Simon, Aunt Cora meet India Jane,’ said Joe, after he and his mum had greeted them with hugs.

‘Hi, welcome,’ Cora said to me, then kissed both my cheeks.

We were bustled through the front door into a hall lined with paintings and into an airy kitchen at the back of the house which led to a sun room, which at first glance also served as a painting
studio. I knew that Joe’s uncle, Simon, was an artist so I was looking forward to seeing his work and talking to him about it.

They showed us our rooms: Joe’s was on the first floor, and mine was an attic room at the top. Once up there, I put my bag down on the patchwork eiderdown on the bed and looked around. The
room had an old-fashioned feel – pale-pink wallpaper with sprigs of roses and leaves, lined dark-pink curtains and a window seat from where there was a stunning view of a terraced back garden
which seemed to go on forever. On the one wall was a landscape watercolour and, on the other, a sepia photo of some people standing outside a mill.
Nice,
I thought.

I heard Cora call that tea was ready, so I slowly made my way back down the stairs to the kitchen. I loved the feel of the place, with its floor-to-ceiling shelves bulging with
interesting-looking books on every floor, framed paintings, photos and drawings on all the walls, sculptures on various surfaces. I peeked into the living room, which was on the first floor. There
were big squashy sofas next to a fireplace, a piano, more paintings and books. The kind of room I’d like to spend hours in. There was so much to look at and do on every floor that I wondered
how we were going to fit in all the things to do in Bath, as well as properly investigating the house.

After tea in china cups and home-made scones and raspberry jam, Joe insisted that we went straight out to explore, so we grabbed our jackets, left Charlotte happily chatting with her brother and
Cora, and set off down the hill into the town to explore.

Joe was the perfect guide and explained to me that Bath had begun as a Roman spa but was also famous for its Georgian architecture. ‘It became the fashionable place for nobility and gentry
to come to use the spa. In fact, we could go and use the baths ourselves.’

‘Like proper toffs,’ I said in my best Queen’s voice.

‘Exactly,’ said Joe. He pointed to the opposite hill. ‘Look, can you see that semi-circle of town houses over there? That’s the Royal Crescent. Poshest address in Bath
apparently, although where Uncle Simon lives is good, too.’

As we walked down the hill, I looked at the houses lining the street. All of them looked old, built from the honey-coloured stone typical of the area, some with wrought-iron verandas, others
with little balconies, all with terraced gardens which would have stunning views of the hills on the opposite side.

Once in town, we had a walk around the centre, taking in the shops, the main square and the cathedral. In a lane behind one of the squares, we had hot chocolates in a tea shop called Sally
Lunn’s, which Joe told me was famous for its buns. Then we made our way over to the old Roman Baths, where we paid our money and joined the crowd of tourists who were making their way
around.

‘This is like taking a step back in time,’ I said, as we followed the tourist trail up to an ancient-looking terrace lined with statues of Roman soldiers, then back down into the
temple and a courtyard, then the centre part called the Great Bath Room where a large pool was full of steaming spa water which looked a strange green colour. After that, we went on to what was
left of the changing room and then into what was the sauna in days gone by. It felt claustrophobic and damp in there with a musty smell, a bit like the bathroom at our new house until Mum and Dad
transformed it. A guide was telling a group of Japanese tourists that going to the baths used to be a social outing, and I could just imagine it full of people hanging out and chatting in the same
way that there were people from all nations around the Great Bath area today, sitting on the worn-down stones around the pool in their groups, taking photos, gazing at the artefacts and drinking in
the atmosphere. Most of the rooms we went through were in ruins, a pillar here, half a wall there, part of a mosaic floor somewhere else, but there were lots of photos, drawings and miniature
models to show exactly how it would have been laid out in the old days.