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Reeva sighed, shaking her head. “No. Obviously not. I just... I can’t believe he had an affair. There’s no evidence to support it.”
“It won’t be hard to find it,” said Sita. “Now we have an idea of where to start, I say we hound Dad’s friends tomorrow and ask about anything linked to an affair. Let’s all do it this time. Clearly Reeva’s not as skilled at questioning as we’d hoped.”
Reeva swallowed her irritation. By the time she’d left the kitchen with Satya Auntie, most of the guests had already rushed off home, and she hadn’t had a chance to speak to Dhilip Bhai or Shilpa Ben. Her sisters, however,had, but they’d chosen to ask them only about the best local restaurants. Which was why they’d had a delicious saag paneer for post-prayers dinner but knew nothing about their dad. “Right, well, I’m going to take my poor questioning skills upstairs. I need to call Nick.”
“Nick? Who’s Nick?” asked Jaya. “Oh my god, are you dating someone? You kept that quiet! Tell us everything! I love hearing about people’s love lives.”
Reeva froze. She hadn’t meant to bring up Nick. She couldn’t talk about him right now. Not to Jaya. Not after everything Jaya had done to her. She just couldn’t. She looked at Sita in total desperation.
Sita looked away from Reeva and turned to face her younger sister. “Leave it, Jaya. We’re not fifteen years old at a sleepover, staying up late to gossip about boys. You’re as bad as the twins.”
“Um, excuse me for taking aninterest,” replied Jaya, pulling herself up onto her forearms to glare at her sister. “It’s more than you’ve done. Do you even know how many followers I have now?”
“Do I look like I care?”
—
Reeva could stillhear her sisters bickering as she gratefully closed the bedroom door behind her. She’d needed to get out of there. The idea of her dad cheating on her mum had made her feel physically sick. She knew she didn’t know this man, and there was a strong possibility he wasn’t a nice person—contrary to her sisters’ thoughts, she wasn’t so naive as to think her parents had faked his death over a polite misdemeanor—but Reeva hated the thought of an affair being the cause. She knew what it felt like to be on the receiving end. And this was her dad! He lived in this unassuming house. He worked at an average optometrist’s office. He had old religious friends who wore saris. He didnotseem like the type to cheat.
But then, neither had Rakesh.
Reeva shook her head and pushed that thought away. Nope. She wasn’t going to go there. Her therapist had taught her how to deal with intrusive thoughts. She needed to count to three and come back to the present moment. And the reality was that therewas zero proof to suggest her dad had cheated, so there was no point thinking about it. Instead, she could think about Nick. He’d already been at the back of her mind all day, mainly because she hadn’t heard from him. Not once. She knew he was busy, but he had said he’d call. She pulled out her phone yet again, and the lack of missed calls and notifications made her heart sink. She’d been there so many times before. She’d be dating someone, she’d start to let herself sink into a sense of safety, and then... silence. They’d start canceling, texting useless apologies, and eventually fading from her life. The thought of this happening with Nick was categorically not an option.
It was why she wanted to take her therapist’s advice and be a grown-up. Instead of just waiting for his call like a tragic woman in a rom-com, constantly checking her phone and falling asleep with its outline imprinted on her face,shecould callhim.That way, she could straight-up ask him why he hadn’t called. Direct, honest communication was the way forward. So why did it feel so hard? Reeva took a deep breath and shook her head. The last time she’d seen Nick, he’d had his head between her legs. That was way more intimate than a ten p.m. phone call. She needed to get over her insecurities and just call.
It went straight to voice mail. “Hi, this is Nick. Sorry to miss you. Feel free to leave...” Reeva sighed as she hung up. He must be busy. Maybe he was on the tube home with no signal. Or he could have lost interest in her and this was his way of letting her down gently. She felt her anxiety rising. Lakshmi. She’d instantly remind Reeva that this was not a big deal. And calling her would be even better than Nick—she wouldn’t have to worry about sounding cool or try to make her family seem more normal. She could even tell Lakshmi her sisters’ theory about their dad.
But the call went straight to voice mail. Reeva’s stomach sank in disappointment.
Sorry! Can’t talk! But look how cute we are.The text from Lakshmi flashed up on Reeva’s phone screen, followed by a photo. It was a selfie of her and FP touching noses. Reeva felt a pang in her chest. FP had never rubbed noses with her before. Had Lakshmi initiated it, or had FP done it of her own accord? Reeva shook her head. There was codependence, and then there was plain crazy. She needed to calm down. It was positive that Lakshmi was bonding with the cat and FP was learning to like people. By the time Reeva came back to London, it was very probable that she’d give her nose kisses too.
Her phone flashed again with another message. It was Nick. She opened it eagerly.Sorry darling. I wanted to call, but work has been mad. Hope you got there safely. I think it’ll be too late to call when I finish up here, so I’ll ring you first thing tomorrow. Sleep well xxx.
Another flash.PS. What’s your address? I want to send flowers.
The anxiety in Reeva’s stomach finally settled down. Being around her sisters was turning her into a nervous wreck. But everything was fine. Nick had replied. He was still at work. Plus he’d called her “darling,” put three kisses, and wanted to send flowers. It was still a shame he wasn’t free for a chat—she really needed to talk to someone about everything that was happening—but at least things were going in the right direction. Surely people didn’t send flowers if they didn’t see a future with the recipient? Reeva quickly typed out a reply to him, put her phone on sleep mode, and got out her lavender silk eye mask and Bach calming flower drops. She used the pipette to drop a generous dose of herbal remedy into her mouth (the bottle said two drops,but Reeva figured four was more appropriate for her situation), tied her mask gently around her eyes, and turned off the light. She was officially ready for today to be over. After everything she’d been through, she deserved—no, sheneeded—a good night’s sleep. She just hoped her dead dad wouldn’t mind her doing it in his bed.
CHAPTER 5
Day 3
Reeva had nothad a good night’s sleep. Instead, she’d spent the whole night plagued with nightmares. She couldn’t remember what they were about, but they’d forced her awake at four a.m. drenched in a cold sweat. The dreams had disappeared instantly, but the fear—palpable, chilling, real—had remained. It had taken another two hours of scrolling through Insta and downing more Bach remedy to fall back asleep. Reeva had eventually woken up late, dazed and groggy, even less ready for the day ahead than she’d been the previous day. She wished she could remember what the nightmares had been about, but it didn’t take a psychologist to tell her they were probably linked to the person whose bed she was in.
She yawned at her reflection in the stark black-edged mirror up on the wall. The bags under her eyes looked terrible, and the yellow halogen lights made her brown skin look sallow. But that was nothing compared to the bald patch on the side of her head glaring at her in all its hairless glory. She pulled her ruler out of her toiletry bag, trying not to panic. Everything looked worsewith wet hair. It couldn’t be as bad as she thought. This would get better. The tonics would work. They had to; they’d cost £350. It would be fine.
Seven point two centimeters.
It was not fine. The patch had grown more than half a centimeter overnight. This was a complete disaster. Reeva stared at her horror-stricken face in the mirror. Seven point two centimeters of her scalp stared back at her.
“Auntie Weeeee!”The door burst open, and a small child rocketed toward Reeva.“It’s meeeeee!”
Reeva flung her wet hair back over the patch and crouched down. “Amisha, baby! How are you?” She wrapped her arms around her five-year-old niece, dressed in tracksuit bottoms and a green T-shirt.
The child drew back. “Um, I’m not Amisha.”
“I’mAmisha,” announced a quieter voice. Reeva looked up to see her other niece standing shyly in the doorframe, with an equally messy ponytail, clad in identical tracksuit bottoms and T-shirt. She frowned in confusion. Not for the first time, she wished that one of them had a distinguishing facial mole.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I guess I haven’t seen you in a few weeks.”
