Page 58 of From LA to London, With Love

“Happy Diwali! Sorry we are late. There was an accident on the roads,” Dadi said, giving me a warm embrace. She heard the gate clang, turned, and saw Josh. “Oh, hi Josh! Happy Diwali!”

“I’m just glad you’re all here. Come in!” I ushered them into the living room quickly, hoping Mum hadn’t asked Chris any more questions.

“Dada, Dadi, this is Chris. Chris, my grandparents.”

Chris went over to greet them. I’d told them about Chris last week. They’d been surprised I was dating someone but happy for me.

Chris and my grandparents exchanged pleasantries while I picked Elliot up off the rug, anticipating they’d be eager for cuddles. I immediately had him snatched out of my arms by Dada.

“And how is my favorite little man?” He lifted him into the air.

I winced, worried he’d pull a muscle—Elliot wasn’t exactly light anymore—but he was fine. For someone in his eighties, Dada was in good shape.

Dad clapped his hands. “Now everyone’s here, I’ll start getting the food ready.” Dad and I had spent the morning cooking our favorite veggie curries, daal, and thepla. Everything was pretty much ready to go. Just a few things needed to be plated or garnished. To my relief, Mum stood up to follow him.

“Can I do anything to help?” Chris asked.

“No thanks, Chris. Just relax!” Mum said with slightly forced cheer.

As Mum and Dad disappeared into the kitchen, I relaxed.

Dadi interrupted Dada’s game of peekaboo to show Elliot the bangles she was wearing. Dada, looking put out, turned his attention to Chris.

“So, Sophie tells me you’re an actor, Chris? I always think people who pursue acting are very brave. All those auditions, rejections, having your appearance scrutinized, it must be so difficult.”

Dadi and Dada hadn’t heard of Chris when I mentioned he was an actor, and they obviously hadn’t Googled him since then. Unlike us millennials, they used their computer for writing emails and checking train timetables, not stalking people online.

Josh opened his mouth, presumably to correct Dada’s assumption that Chris was a struggling actor, but Chris responded first.

“Oh, thank you. That’s very kind. But I’m not sure it was bravery that caused me to pursue acting. More likely naivety. I was so young, I didn’t fully realize what I was getting myself into. I do love it, though.”

Josh jumped in. “Chris is being very modest, Dada. He’s actually very successful. Correct me if I’m wrong Chris, but I’m assuming you don’t have to deal with many auditions or rejections these days.”

My grandparents looked impressed. Chris smiled.

“Both still happen sometimes, but certainly not like when I was starting out. It was brutal back then.”

Dada started telling Chris about the difficulty he’d had finding a job when they’d moved to England.

Since everyone was getting along well, and Mum and Dad were occupied elsewhere, I excused myself. Dadi’s reaction to my outfit had been hanging over my head—I hated disappointing her. I went up to my room to change into my favorite sari as fast as I could, which wasn’t very fast, given how out of practice I was. After fifteen minutes of struggling with the emerald green and gold fabric, I decided it was good enough. Just as I made my way downstairs, Dad yelled to me that lunch was ready. Everyone was seated around the dining table when I entered, waiting for me to arrive before they helped themselves to the food in front of them.

Dadi’s face lit up with happiness when she saw me, making me so glad I’d gone to the effort. “Oh, beautiful. You look gorgeous, darling!”

Before long, we were digging into the food. To my relief, my parents had shelved their interrogation of Chris, and conversation flowed freely. Dadi was telling Chris, who seemed genuinely interested, about our family’s Diwali traditions, when I first smelled it.

I sniffed. “Um, Dad, did you leave the oven or stove on? I can smell burning.”

Alfie, who’d been slumped near my feet, unimpressed by the lack of meat scraps on offer, jumped up and started whining.

“I can’t smell anything. I’m sure I turned them all off,” Dad replied, spooning pickle and yogurt on a piece of thepla, unconcerned.

Dad took a bite and then sniffed again.

“Hmmm, okay. I think I can smell it now. Let me double check.” He disappeared into the kitchen, returning a minute later. “They were all off. Where is that smell coming from?”

Just then, the smoke alarm in the hallway let off an ear-shattering wail. Alfie started barking furiously. We all looked at each other. And then it dawned on me.

“Shit! The candles in the living room!” I jumped out of my chair and raced down the hallway, my heart sinking as the smell got stronger. Shit. Shit. Shit.