AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Okay, you don’t have to do them one by one,” said Sita.
“I’m doing itproperly,” she said. “Look, Auntie Wee!”
“Well done, darling,” said Reeva. “What? Surely I can saydarling?!”
“No, it’s just you’ve got sandalwood paste all over your dress.”
Reeva looked down to see yellow blotches staining her dress. The only suitable dress she’d brought with her.
CHAPTER 15
Day 8
Reeva sat inthe wooden pew of the crematorium feeling both physically and emotionally uncomfortable. This was it. Her dad’s funeral. And she felt as awkward as if she were at a stranger’s funeral. She adjusted the too-tight and too-short LBD she’d borrowed from Jaya, then looked around the hall, which was slowly filling up with guests, most of whom were wearing white, not black. Yet another tradition the sisters had managed to get wrong. Reeva had already seen most of them at the prayers—though she was well aware they’d be unlikely to say the same, due to her appalling attendance—and the majority were Indian. The only white person she could see was Meg from Specsavers. She was wearing black.
The priest was at the front, preparing for the service, while everyone else was chatting among themselves. Except for Reeva, because she had no one to chat to. Her sisters were busy—Jaya had gone to find Rakesh, and Sita had gone to find Nitin. She pulled out her phone to hide her awkwardness. There were no new messages, but it didn’t matter because she could alwaysreread her latest from Nick. He’d sent it in the early hours of the morning, without her messaging or calling him first. It was perfect lcb material—even verging on UCB...
Reeva, I’m so sorry I can’t be with you today. But I know you’ll be amazing. You’re wonderful and I know your eulogy will knock them dead. (Bad joke, but I know your sense of humor is as inappropriate as mine, so hopefully it will make you smile.) I’ll call you in your afternoon/my morning. Lots of love, Nick xx.
In a way, it was better than him being there at her side. She didn’t have to spend the whole afternoon worrying about him or making sure he was okay; she could just focus on getting through the day while knowing her boyfriend was thinking about how wonderful she was.
“Beta, do you mind if I sit here next to you?”
Reeva looked up to see an elderly Indian woman in a cream sari and brown coat standing in the aisle. “Of course not! Here, I’ll move over.” She shuffled in the pew—she’d chosen the second row because it felt weird to claim front-row seats for the funeral of a man she didn’t remember—and the woman sat down next to her.
“You’re one of Hemant’s daughters?” the lady asked.
Reeva nodded. “Reeva. His eldest.”
“Ah, yes, I know. Reeva. You know who I am? Kaki. Your dad’s kaki. But also your kaki. You can call me Kavita Kaki.”
Reeva couldn’t remember what kaki meant. Aunt? Great-aunt? She smiled brightly in response. “Hi, Kavita Kaki!”
“You remember me?”
“Um... no, sorry. I guess I was quite young when I last met you?”
“Oh yes, very small. You were very sweet—a very shy child.”
“Really? Uh, thank you.”
The woman nodded happily and looked around the crematorium. “And your sisters?”
“Oh, Sita’s over there with her husband, Nitin, and her twins.” Reeva pointed to the back of the crematorium, where Amisha and Alisha were sitting on the floor, kicking their legs and having tantrums while their parents hissed at them and waved cucumber sticks. “And my sister Jaya’s waiting outside for her”—she swallowed—“fiancé.”
“You’re also married?”
Reeva shook her head. “Nope.”
“It’s okay, there’s still time.”
Reeva smiled despite herself. This woman was a complete stereotype of an elderly Indian aunt, with her thick accent and total lack of tact. But Reeva was surprisingly into it. It was comforting, kind, and reassuringly predictable. Things her own family was not.
“Tell me—what is your job? And how old?”
“I’m thirty-four. And I’m a lawyer. A divorce lawyer.”
“Very good! And you’re slim, trim, and very pretty.” Her eyes lit up. “Let me see what I can do for you.”
