Page 6

Discovering Geeta Sachdeva, alone and crying on a bench between the yew trees, was all kinds of wrong.

The woman who had a generous smile for everyone, and a hug too, with her hour-glass curves and shining beauty. With her soothing voice, and laughter rounding the edges of an RP accent that would drop into wry Midlands when she indulged in a sassy comment. It wasn’t often. The woman was generosity and patience itself. Although Nicola clearly tested it.

That was not someone who should sit alone, on a cold April morning, in a graveyard. And not with mangled hair stuck over cheeks soaked in tears. The sight reached into Nicola’s chest and pulled .

This was the trouble with Geeta. She made Nicola feel things. Like jealousy over Charlotte and other unfortunate emotions she didn’t want to name.

She folded her arms and mulled over her options, those feeling-things clouding her faculties.

Dammit. Jealousy was such an aggravating and unfamiliar inconvenience. Nicola envied little, being proud of her own accomplishments, and she preferred to spend her energy succeeding, rather than looking behind at everyone else. And she wasn't usually soft-hearted either. Anyone hoping for a tenderness beneath the hardened lawyer was wasting their time. There were no defensive layers to strip away. No facade or mask. No icy exterior. She just didn't feel that much for most people.

She wasn’t devoid of emotion either. Her daughters had her heart, even if one didn’t know it. And she indulged colleagues and clients when deserving but remained detached enough so her job didn’t deplete her. She was forged of pragmatism, proficiency and ambition.

But with Geeta, it was like she became someone else.

The woman’s mere presence questioned her, holding up a mirror so that Nicola flinched and didn’t like what she saw. And now Geeta crying on a bench by the church transformed her. It felt wrong, right down to her foundations. She didn’t want Geeta to cry. She wanted to stride forward, sweep her up, and make it better, even though getting close to Geeta Sachdeva was a bad idea.

Nicola tapped a finger on her folded arm. What to do?

It wasn’t as if Geeta would appreciate company either because the woman obviously disliked her. Ah well. Nicola shrugged, used to that. She dealt with people who hated her all day long.

Decision made, Nicola detoured off the path, around the church and across the grass, vibrant with spring growth and dotted with daisies and yellow buttercups. She dipped her gaze so that Geeta could wipe her face in privacy.

By the time Nicola reached the bench, Geeta had tucked her hair behind an ear and her cheeks were almost dry. Geeta’s eyes glistened though, and her features stiffened with the effort to hold back tears.

Nicola sat on the end of the wooden seat and turned to look at Geeta.

Geeta turned to look at her.

“I know,” Nicola started, “I’m probably the last person you want to see right now...”

Geeta glowered from beneath beautiful eyebrows. Yes, absolutely the last person Geeta wanted.

“...But I can’t walk past without checking you’re all right, can I?”

Geeta glared, cheeks knotting, as if Nicola really could walk by, please.

They breathed in, chests rising with exasperation, then sighed in synchrony. They’d never been in so much agreement.

“Is there anything I can do?” Nicola asked gently.

Geeta’s eyes told her where to go, loud and clear.

So, Nicola added, “To help.”

Geeta closed her mouth, confirming the imminent phrase. Then she shook her head, in a way that balanced politely turning down the offer and, Nicola suspected, sheer exasperation at their meeting, again.

“OK.” Nicola leant back. “I’ll sit for a while. There's no need to talk, but I’m here if you want anything, and will move on in a few minutes.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Geeta open her mouth. She imagined a string of strong words lined up, but silence followed.

“Nicola," came eventually, voice breaking with remnants of upset. “I’m fine. You don’t have to stay.”

“I’ll wait a few moments though. It’s nice by the church.”

Geeta seemed to mull it over, then sagged with acceptance.

It was a lovely spot away from main roads, with birds flitting overhead and filling the air with chatter. Definitely not song. A bunch of tiny sparrows in a shrub clearly argued with each other. Trees flowed down the slope towards the river, with views across the plain beyond, and to the other side was an ancient leafy graveyard.

The creamy church in front glowed in sudden light, and Nicola closed her eyes while the sun peeped from behind a cloud. She lifted her chin to catch the warm rays, a glorious treat of apricity. When a cool shadow stroked her cheeks with a cloud passing over, she opened her eyes and found Geeta studying her.

Confusion, irritation and remnants of upset flickered in her expression. Geeta had one of those gently expressive faces, capable of so many thoughts, but which invariably slipped back into kindness. Intelligent always. There was a quick mind behind that generous face, make no mistake, and Nicola never had. It perplexed her though, why Geeta used her intelligence for domesticity rather than career. But she still had a lot of respect for Geeta.

“I don’t want to keep you,” Geeta said. “I’m sure you’re busy.”

Nicola shrugged. “Always, but also not particularly. I was out for a stroll anyway.”

“Hmph,” Geeta replied.

Nicola uncrossed her legs and relaxed her pose, to give Geeta a sympathetic smile. “Are you going to be OK?”

The wrong thing to say apparently, because Geeta’s eyebrows rose and tears flooded her eyes again.

A caught breath. A sniff. “I bloody hope so.”

Nicola paused, not used to hearing Geeta swear. Her surprised reaction must have been obvious because Geeta’s cheeks twitched. Then she snorted and shook her head, then plain laughed at Nicola.

“Just a bloody awful morning, that’s all,” Geeta said.

Nicola expected her to fall quiet again when she turned away to stare at the church. But Geeta breathed in long and hard, and said,

“I’m getting a divorce.”

And any remaining cheer left, her whole body deflating as another cloud darkened overhead.

“Oh,” Nicola said.

She gazed at her adversary, who calmly stood her ground like no other. Who she’d assumed had a nauseatingly perfect family life, which highlighted the cracks in hers. A woman who disapproved of her attitudes and won the admiration of a daughter Nicola lost. Nicola avoided her for those reasons and more. But Geeta was also a woman who hurt a great deal.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Nicola said.

Geeta stared at her.

“Really,” Nicola added, wondering at herself too. She’d never said anything as honest or unguarded to Geeta before. “I always thought you an exceptional couple.”

It was funny how clearly she saw them, now the veil of envy lifted.

Geeta’s mouth hung open, her eyes wide and unblinking to match it.

“What?” Nicola shrugged.

Geeta crossed her arms and swivelled around to her.

“You have never, ever,” Geeta nodded with the words for emphasis, “given me any hint you approved of either me or Sumit.”

Nicola considered. “That’s very possible,” she conceded. “But nonetheless, I always respected you both and how you treated each other.”

“Really?”

Nicola shrugged.

“I mean, really!?” Geeta said louder.

“Well yes. You’re both intelligent people who liked each other.”

Geeta pursed her lips, possibly indulging in ungenerous thoughts, then said, “In the fifteen years I’ve known you, you've never uttered a single positive thing to me, or about me, without at least an edge of passive aggression.”

Nicola mulled over that too. Yes, it was possible she'd been brusque and rude the whole time.

“Or hinted at anything but disapproval,” Geeta added.

“I can see why you think that.”

“I think that because it’s true,” Geeta clapped back.

Guilt seeped in, another thing she didn’t feel often, especially at actions that were simply necessary. Nicola handled decisions day in and day out, that sometimes weren’t clear-cut but needed to be made. And her aloof distance with Geeta had been essential.

“I’m still sorry to hear you’re getting a divorce,” Nicola said.

Geeta nodded.

“I suppose that’s why you’re here rather than home?” Nicola added.

“Kind of.”

“Where you don’t run into loathsome barristers.”

Geeta gave a side-eye. “Home does have that advantage.”

Nicola smiled at the bite in the answer. She'd been rude to Geeta for fifteen years, and Geeta had no obligation to be polite, especially when reeling from divorce. She was allowed an edge this morning. And Nicola didn’t even mind. It was rather thrilling, in fact, to have Geeta finally open in her dislike.

“Actually,” Geeta started, “I’m avoiding my mother not Sumit.”

“Oh?”

“Sumit moved out a while ago. We decided last year.”

Nicola nodded for her to continue.

“It’s taking a while for the family to accept it and I'm still supporting them through the divorce.”

“Why on earth,” Nicola couldn't help saying, "are you supporting your mother, when the biggest impact will be on you?”

Geeta shuffled, as if uncomfortable. “I understand her point of view. Her side of the family is very traditional and this first divorce in the family is difficult. I know the pressures she’s under.” She sighed. “And she misses Sumit. They got on very well. It’s a big change for them.”

Geeta sunk as if she carried the weight of her whole family on her shoulders.

“I’ve disappointed everyone.” Geeta cast her eyes down. “But I...I’m not changing my mind.”

A large raindrop sploshed on Geeta’s nose. They both squinted up at the iron-grey clouds that drifted over the village.

“For god's sake,” Geeta muttered. “I’m not the slightest bit religious, but I’m sensing biblical disapproval right now.”

Nicola chuckled, then openly smiled when her reaction brightened Geeta’s face.

See. Feeling things. This was why she avoided Geeta.

Another drop splashed on Geeta’s forehead. “It’s going to pee it down, isn’t it.”

Nicola turned up her coat collar and squinted into the sky. “It is April, so we’ll get four seasons in one hour.”

Geeta got to her feet. “I’m going to shelter in the church until my mother’s yoga class finishes and she’s gone home.”

Nicola stood too, the large raindrops rattling on her Barbour jacket. They headed towards the church, Geeta shuffling alongside with arms wrapped around herself, then round to the gate where the path split left, to the church doors, and right, out of the churchyard.

“I’m sure we’ll bump into each other again,” Geeta said, waving goodbye as she dashed off.

Geeta scooted beneath the church doorway. She pulled at the iron-ring handle. Then again with a firmer tug. Then desperate pulls with her whole body.

Locked.

Geeta’s shoulders sagged and she turned to stand hunched in the shallow doorway. And damn it, if Geeta looking forlorn didn’t do things to her too.

“Look,” Nicola said.

She couldn’t believe she was doing this. There were several reasons she shouldn’t do this. But she empathised with another woman isolated by divorce and disapproved of by family. “Do you want to come back to mine?”

Geeta stared at her.

Nicola walked closer, rain soaking her face. “Until your mother's class has finished?”

Still the outright astonishment.

“Oh, come on. You can’t think I’m pure evil.”

“I...” Geeta switched into an irritated frown. “I never said you were evil.”

“You didn't have to,” Nicola retorted.

Geeta rolled her eyes.

“Sorry, that was uncalled for.” Nicola put up her hands. “I’m just offering coffee and shelter for a while. I'm capable of that.”

The sky darkened further overhead, and the temperature dropped.

“OK.” Geeta deflated, resigned. “Thank you. That would be...”

Nicola braced herself.

“...better than being caught in a storm.”

And Nicola laughed at that.