Wish Upon a Star (38 page)

Claire was as surprised and touched as Mrs. Patel. ‘It wasn’t very hard,’ Claire said. ‘Really. They delivered the heavy stuff and the girls helped.’

‘But it’s beautiful. It’s a real English garden. It will be so lovely for the girls. And I can sit there in the evenings. No smell of cat. It smells of flowers.’ She paused, took a napkin from the counter and patted her eyes. ‘I didn’t think I could have such a thing,’ she said.

‘I’m so glad you like it,’ Claire said.

‘I must make a confession to you,’ Mrs. Patel said. ‘I thought that when you moved, we had seen the last of you. I was sure that you would get-tired of slumming.’

‘But Mrs. Patel…I never felt that I was…’

The woman held up her hand. ‘No, no, you must hear me out. I was unjust. I underestimated you and I was afraid, not just for the children but for myself. I have come to count on your help.’

It was the first time Mrs. Patel had acted as if she were doing anything but a favor for Claire. ‘It’s my pleasure,’ Claire said. ‘Safta is terrific, and the little ones…’

‘No, please. I have distrusted you. I haven’t let you go near the till. I’ve paid you very little. I apologize for all of it.’

Claire had to stop her before the two of them were crying.

Mrs. Patel took a deep breath. ‘You know, it is more difficult to accept a kindness than a cruelty,’ she said, ‘when you’re used to cruelty.’ She looked away from Claire and into the empty streets. ‘Sometimes they call us “Pakis”. And we are from Pakistan originally. But I have lived here my whole life and I am British. And so are my children. But you see we do not fit in with the British. And we do not fit in among the Pakistanis because my family is not Moslem, but Hindu.’ She looked at Claire. ‘My father was a very holy man, but when he died my mother asked my uncle to send for a husband for me from Pakistan. When Lak came he was handsome and it turned my head. What could I do anyway? Perhaps my father would have stopped it but he was gone. It was not a good match.’ She looked away again and Claire took a deep breath. She had wondered where Mr. Patel was, but wouldn’t, of course, ask. ‘He took money. He hit me. Not once, but many times. Though I was giving him a citizenship and children he was angry, always angry. You see my father had bought the shop for me. Lak was angry that I owned the business, that I spoke English, that I had opinions.’ She sighed but there was an angry glint in her eye. ‘Perhaps there was another woman he had to leave behind. Perhaps it would have been as bad, and he as difficult, no matter what.’ She looked at Claire.

‘But they forced you to marry a stranger,’ Claire said. She tried to imagine what that would be like and failed completely.

Mrs. Patel shrugged. ‘You see, though I am very modern I don’t believe that an arranged marriage is a bad thing. You almost never know the person you marry until you have had years of being together. Love can grow just as it can die.’

‘Didn’t you try to get help, from your mother or the police?’

Mrs. Patel gave her a look that told her she understood very little. ‘I told my mother and then my aunt but never the police. You don’t involve them in your family problems.’

‘But what did your mother say? Couldn’t she stop him? Didn’t she tell you to leave him?’

Mrs. Patel shrugged again. ‘My mother is very traditional. Without my father to guide her she turned to my aunt and uncle. But my uncle’s family had been the ones who made the match. I was told to be quiet, that my complaining was causing the problem.’ She made a clicking sound.

‘What happened?’ Claire finally had the courage to ask.

‘It went too far. He began to hit the children. He thought he could do whatever he wished, with me, with them, with the money. I did call the police. I put him out. Five months ago. He went back to Pakistan. And then I went to a solicitor for divorcing him.’

‘Good,’ Claire said. ‘Well, that was the right thing.’

‘Not to my family. So we don’t see them—haven’t seen them for yonks. They don’t speak to me. The children don’t meet their cousins. My uncle came to me and said “If you do this shameful thing then all of us will turn our backs on you.” You see, it caused all kinds of financial difficulties. There was a dowry that had been paid to Lak’s family in Pakistan. Now that money is lost forever. Everyone was very, very angry. They said I was a whore, that Lak had put up with me as best he could but that he wasn’t even sure the children were his.’ This time a tear rolled down her face but she angrily wiped it away. ‘It made my children pariahs. How cruel of a father. And all over false pride and money.’ She looked down, straightened her clothes and put her hand protectively across her belly. ‘Let me check on the children,’ she said. But Claire thought she wanted to gather her feelings. ‘Flog the bread off,’ Mrs. Patel said as she waddled to the back. ‘It’s about to go off.’

To Claire’s relief no customers came in to push the day-old bread on. Mrs. Patel returned, more composed. ‘My children have had a difficult time and have suffered, but since you have begun to help Safta she is much happier and perhaps now, with this garden, she will invite a friend over. If not, she can read and study there. It is very English and very fine indeed. Thank you, Claire.’

‘Oh, it really isn’t a big deal,’ Claire said. But she knew now that it was. ‘We all had fun working together.’

Mrs. Patel gave one of her rare smiles. ‘Yes, fun is very good.’

‘And I can teach the girls how to dead-head and snip the grass.’

‘Dead-head? Is this some American thing or is it English?’ Mrs. Patel asked, one brow raised again. ‘I know precious little about gardening.’

Claire smiled. ‘It means picking off the dead flowers so new ones can come in. The girls will be good at it.’

‘I can be good at it as well,’ Mrs. Patel declared. ‘I can keep this garden.’ She patted her belly. ‘And the baby can enjoy it, too.’ She smiled at Claire. ‘How can I thank you?’ she asked and took Claire’s hand.

Claire shrugged. ‘You already have. You gave me a job. Because of that I’ve been able to stay here in London.’ She paused. ‘You know, I am something of an outcast too,’ she said.

Mrs. Patel nodded. ‘I thought as much,’ she said.

Claire woke up at seven on Saturday morning filled with excitement at the prospect of the first knitting class in just two hours. She didn’t think that Imogen was an early riser on the weekends, but she wasn’t sure because every weekend but this one Imogen had been away. Claire tried to be as quiet as she could as she tip-toed to the bathroom, took her bath, washed her hair and then, wrapped only in a towel, headed to her hall closet to pick out what she would wear for the class. But as she passed the door to Imogen’s bedroom it opened and a man—totally naked and very well-built—appeared. He gaped as much as Claire did. ‘Sorry,’ she managed to gasp as she turned and scuttled back to her room.

Once there she closed the door behind her with a bang so loud that everybody in Kensington would hear it. Oh, god, she thought. The very last thing she needed was for Imogen’s boyfriend to complain about her presence in the flat. She hadn’t met him before, and this wasn’t exactly the way she’d envisioned their first meeting. This must have been the first time since Claire had moved in that he had stayed over. Claire couldn’t get over her bad luck, or the fact that she hadn’t had a chance to get her clothes. She was stuck in her room.

She looked at one of the flyers sitting on her bureau. The class was scheduled for nine and now, looking at her watch, she realized she had only an hour and ten minutes to find a way to her closet, avoid Imogen and her fiancé, get something for breakfast and hope that she still had a place to stay by the end of the day.

She needed to calm herself and hope that this wasn’t a bad omen for the rest of this very important day. Then she remembered her electric kettle. Luckily it had water in it and she merely had to plug it in and wait. She had her mug from the previous night and some tea bags in the top drawer of the bureau. A hot cup of tea and a little calm reflection while looking out the window soon helped her put things in perspective.

If they couldn’t laugh about it, at least she doubted that they would evict her. Surely that would be an overreaction. At eight-thirty, hearing nothing outside her door, she gathered up her nerve and went out into the kitchen wearing her clothes from the day before. They were dirty, but the last thing she wanted to look was provocative. She knew how quick Tina had always been to think that women might be flirting with Anthony.

Although Claire expected to meet no one, Imogen was there in a robe, making a pot of tea. Claire winced but Imogen simply said, ‘Good morning. Would you like a cup?’

Claire shook her head. ‘I don’t have time. I have to get dressed properly: I’m going to give a class this morning.’ But, as she made her way to the closet, Imogen stopped her.

‘A class in what?’ she asked. ‘Are you teaching American English?’

Claire tried to laugh. ‘Actually, I’m teaching knitting—at least I think I am, if people show up.’

‘Knitting! How absolutely brilliant! God, everyone is knitting. In my office half of the girls are working on something or other. They all swear by it.’

At that moment Imogen’s fiancé came out of the bedroom. His hair was tousled and his eyes were the darkest brown Claire had ever seen. His arms were too long for the robe he was wearing and his skinny legs were exposed to the thigh. ‘Hello,’ he said.

‘Claire, this is Malcolm. I gather you already met.’

Claire blushed. Malcolm smiled and asked Imogen for tea. It seemed that he was not offended at all.

Incredibly relieved, Claire went back to her room and dressed quickly. She was about to leave when Imogen stopped her at the door.

‘Do you think I could come to your class?’ Imogen asked.

‘I’d love it,’ Claire said.

‘What time are you teaching?’

‘Actually, it begins in just a few minutes. Nine o’clock.’

‘Oh, my goodness,’ Imogen said. ‘Nobody would make it to that. You should have made it eleven or maybe noon.’

Claire’s chest tightened again but it was too late. She would, as Tina frequently said, have to like it or lump it. Well, if she didn’t get everyone, she hoped she’d get at least some of the dozen people who had left messages with Toby or Nigel. And if some came late, she could just start them while the others moved along. ‘You don’t have to come to a class,’ Claire said to Imogen. ‘I’d be happy to teach you anytime you want.’

‘Oh! How absolutely fabulous. You are just too good. You do all the work here and then you offer that as well. You’d make a perfect wife. Malcolm,’ she called, ‘you’ll have to introduce Claire to some really nice men from work.’

‘There are no nice men where I work,’ Malcolm drawled from the kitchen.

Imogen laughed. ‘Well, perhaps I’ll make it to the class. Do you mind if I come later?’

‘No. Of course not,’ Claire said and thrust a flyer into Imogen’s hand. ‘It’s just around the corner,’ she said. ‘But I’m going to be late. I really have to go.’

Claire raced down the stairs and out onto the street. It was just a few minutes past nine and she almost ran to the corner but, as she turned, she stopped and stood stock-still. In front of the shop seven women stood about, obviously waiting for it to open.

Well, it wasn’t a dozen people but it was a start. Claire put on her brightest smile and went up to the door. Mrs. Venables had entrusted her with a key and she proudly took it out and opened up. ‘Please come in,’ she said to the women. ‘Are you here for the class?’

They assented and filed past her into the shop where a circle of chairs was already laid out round a table. Three of the women were middle-aged and dressed very well, three were about Claire’s own age or perhaps a little younger, and the last one was a very slight teenage girl in a lot of black eye make-up. ‘Why don’t you take a look around,’ Claire said. ‘We’ll be ready in just a little while.’

She began to arrange needles, scrap-yarn and a sign-up sheet with spaces for their names, addresses and phone numbers. The shop bell rang and Claire looked up to see another woman enter. She had well-cut blond hair and though her face was long and a bit mannish she was quite attractive. She turned to hold open the door and a much older woman, obviously her mother, came in as well. That made nine.

Just then Claire heard Mrs. Venables making her way downstairs and the two of them smiled at one another. Mrs. Venables looked at the group who were now all finding seats and nodded at Claire in a most approving way. When she got to the shop floor, Claire figured they were ready to go.

She cleared her throat. The women looked up. ‘My name is Claire. This is Mrs. Venables. We’ll be helping you today.’ She took a deep breath. She had never been a teacher before. ‘We’ll start by passing out materials for you to practice on, and there’s a list here for you to add your names to.’

There was a bit of bustle as everyone sorted themselves out. Claire asked Mrs. Venables to start a few women off at one end of the horseshoe of chairs and she did the same at the other end.

‘I’m Leonora Atkins,’ a dark-haired woman Claire’s age told her when Claire got to her. ‘Do you know that half of the women at my office knit and the other half want to?’

‘Really?’ Claire asked as she looped wool onto Leonora’s needle.

‘Well, when Gwyneth Paltrow, Winona Ryder and Julia Roberts are doing it, everyone wants to.’

‘I didn’t know they all knit.’

‘That’s the least of it. David Arquette and Russell Crowe are at it. I’m just waiting for David Beckham to pick up needles.’

‘Heavens, is that true?’ It was the mother of the attractive blond woman who had spoken. ‘Of course the Queen knits. I don’t know why I never learned, but if she can make the time I shall, too.’ She laughed, as if she were making some kind of joke. Claire recognized her accent as being similar to the Queen’s, though she wore an old, pilled, machine-made cardigan. The daughter, however, was elegantly dressed in casual but well-cut trousers, with a silk scarf knotted stylishly around her throat. She looked up when Claire asked them their names as she helped them.