The Wedding Countdown by Ruth Saberton Page A

tears because Qas called them racists.’
    My poor parents!
    ‘Mum and Dad aren’t racists!’ Roma wails.
    ‘Of course they’re not. But they do know how difficult it is for two cultures to come together. Don’t forget there’s history there.’
    ‘History?’
    ‘Aunt Seema?’ I remind her. ‘Otherwise known as She who must not be mentioned? Dad’s sister who broke her betrothal off and married a plumber called Alan?’
    ‘Duh.’ I hear my sister slap her palm against her forehead. ‘How could I forget that? Nanny- ji hasn’t spoken to her since, has she?’
    ‘Not as far as I know, Roma . And Grandpa- ji never spoke of her again. Dadsays the shame killed him.’
    We’re silent. Mixed-race marriage is a sore topic in our family. My father would never tolerate such a match, not knowing the grief it could cause.
    ‘I wish you were here, baj ,’ Roma sighs. ‘I don’t know what to do.’
    ‘I’ll come home,’ I say. ‘I’ll get the train first thing.’
    ‘You can’t. It’s your first day at GupShup .
    ‘That doesn’t matter.’ My lovely, funny crazy family is infinitely more important than a job, even my dream job. ‘I’m coming back.’
    ‘No way,’ says Roma. ‘Why should Qas ruin everything you’ve worked for?’ 
    I say nothing.
    ‘Why does Qas have to be so difficult?’ Roma says eventually. ‘Why choose a gori when he knows how Daddy- ji feels?’
    I sigh. ‘If two people are in love, soul mates if you like, they have to be together. True love can overcome anything.’
    ‘Do you really believe that, baj ?’
    ‘With all my heart.’
    ‘Maybe everything will be OK then,’ Roma says hopefully.
    ‘Of course it will, insha’Allah, ’ I promise, with more conviction than I feel.
    ‘At least Qas isn’t a girl,’ says Roma. ‘Our izzat ’s a bit dented but you’ll set that right, Mills.’
    ‘Me? How?’
    ‘With the wonderful marriage you’re going to make. Oh baj , you’ll make Mum and Dad proud and really shut that cow Bee right up. I know you’ll find a wonderful man, a barrister or a surgeon at the least, and then Mum and Dad will be pagal with joy. Only don’t take too long, will you? Things are pretty tense here.’
    Oh great. Not only is the countdown to Subhi tick-tocking away but now I’ve got the added pressure of shoring up the family izzat to contend with.
    After Roma rings off I lie awake watching the orange shadows of street lamps pool across the ceiling. I hope I find my soul mate soon. The thought of failing is suddenly too awful to contemplate.
     

Chapter 7
    Why did nobody ever tell me splitting the atom is easier than negotiating London’s tube system?
    I turn my tube map upside down just in case this throws some light on the matter, but no luck. The jumble of yellow, blue, green and red lines still looks more like spaghetti than a sophisticated transport system. It doesn’t help that my eyes are all gritty and heavy from lack of sleep, or that when I should be concentrating on getting from Chelsea to Canary Wharf I’m distracted by horrible thoughts of Qas arguing with my parents. So far I’ve retraced my steps three times, going back six stops on the Circle Line, and have nearly broken my neck running down steps to my next tube only to see it pulling away.
    All in all not a great start to my first day at work.
    I stand on the platform at Westminster Station and try to get my breath back. An information board in gloating neon green tells me the next train to Stratford is eight minutes away. Eight minutes! I check my watch hoping time has somehow frozen but no such luck. It really is nine-fifteen and I’m late for work.
    I sit on a bench and put my head in my hands. If only Nish hadn’t reheated the Chinese and then spent the night regurgitating prawn balls. There was no way she could drag herself away from the loo even for Nina Singh and she’d had some very tricky explaining to do. As will I if I don’t figure out the tube pretty bloody