The Love Detective (38 page)

‘You look gorgeous, Ruby.’

I turn to see Jack looking at me in a way he hasn’t looked at me before.

‘Um, thanks,’ I say, my voice coming out high and squeaky. ‘You, er, don’t look too bad yourself,’ I add, trying to be all jokey.

He remains looking at me for a moment, as if he might say something, then seems to think better of it. ‘OK, let’s go.’ He holds out his arm.

Like I said, we’re definitely not a couple. He’s just doing me a favour. That’s all.

And, threading my arm through his, I head out of the door with him.

Downstairs we encounter Suhana racing around reception. Balancing a large pile of post on top of several towels, she crashes blindly into us. ‘Oh, I am so sorry, sir and madam,’ she exclaims, then suddenly stops dead as she recognises us. ‘Oh my goodness me! Ruby!’

‘Hi Suhana,’ I smile, as Jack flashes me a perplexed look, wondering how we’re on first-name terms. I make a mental note to tell him all about it later.

‘You look so . . . so different,’ she gasps, goggling at us both.

‘We’ve got a wedding or two to go to,’ smiles Jack, scooping up several envelopes that have fallen to the floor and balancing them on top of her pile.

She shoots him a grateful smile. ‘The whole town is going to a wedding!’ she exclaims. ‘I have my cousin’s and I am so late!’ She glances at the clock on the wall and lets out a little squeak of horror. ‘Oh no, look at the time!’

‘Well, we’d better not keep you,’ I say, sensing the panic that only another female understands, of not having enough time to get ready.

‘Maybe we’ll see you later,’ nods Jack as she dives behind the reception desk.

‘Yes . . . please . . . you must come to the party afterwards,’ she nods, hurriedly switching off various electronics. Popping her head back up from behind the parapet of files, she flashes us both an excited smile, ‘There will be live music and lots of dancing! Look for the Royal Shiva, it is a five-star hotel on the lake . . .’ Then she disappears under the desk again.

Exchanging hurried, and muffled, goodbyes, we leave the guesthouse and walk outside onto the front steps. The street is already crowded with people and noise and there’s a carnival atmosphere. Dusk has fallen and the moon has risen in the sky, but the whole town is alive.

‘You both look wonderful!’

Hearing a voice, I tip my head and see the little white car tucked into the smallest of spaces across the street, and Rocky leaning against it.

‘Oh, hey!’ waves Jack. ‘I didn’t see you there.’

‘But I saw you,’ he nods with a smile. ‘You make a wonderful couple.’

I feel myself blush awkwardly. ‘Thanks,’ I smile, not looking at Jack.

‘So my job is done,’ he adds, as together Jack and I begin descending the steps to cross the street to him.

‘Yes, well done for getting us safely to Udaipur,’ grins Jack.

I glance at Rocky, and as he meets my eye I somehow get the feeling that isn’t what he was referring to, but no sooner has that thought zipped across my mind, than we’re distracted by the sound of a brass band, the buzz of energy and excitement, and then, from around the corner, a wedding procession appears.

It’s led by a drummer, and he’s followed by a dozen or so musicians – tuba players, trombonists, drummers, all in band uniforms of red jackets and gold buttons; there are boys carrying candelabras connected to generators, and crowds of revellers swarming behind. The whole effect is dazzling and chaotic and completely exhilarating.

‘Rocky was right, everyone is getting married,’ I gasp, as we’re separated from him by the procession and lose him in the crowd.

‘Mrs Gupta said she knew of at least twelve weddings, right?’ asks Jack.

‘Uh-huh,’ I nod, mesmerised by the flashing lights and brightly coloured saris that are streaming past like a school of tropical fish.

‘So where do you reckon we should start?’

‘I have no idea!’ I yell, above the clash of cymbals and trumpets.

‘Well in that case . . .’ Without further hesitation, Jack grabs me by the hand and together we dive into the procession.

Engulfed by noise and surrounded by people smiling and cheering, there’s no time to wonder what to do, or worry about my sister, or feel nervous about what’s going to happen. All we can do is surrender ourselves to the moment and allow the night to take us where it will.

And, laughing with delight, we join everyone else in raising our arms in the air. Let the great big wedding extravaganza begin.

I once read that life should not be about the number of breaths you take, but the number of moments that take your breath away. If that’s true, then this one night in Udaipur is filled with a million of those moments. Just the colours are enough to set your heart racing. People talk about an ‘explosion of colour’, but you’ve never really experienced the true meaning of that phrase unless you’ve been to India, and never more so than at a wedding.

Canary yellows, dazzling pinks, emerald greens . . . and those are just the saris. Add to them flaming red turbans, showers of golden marigolds, brightly decorated horses, camels and elephants, and a blaze of fireworks lighting up the dark sky overhead and it’s like suddenly seeing life in high definition. Believe me, if colour was an Olympic sport, India would win the gold medal every time.

Mine and Jack’s first wedding experience finishes when we spot the groom on a white horse. Resplendent in a long white silk jacket, elaborately jewelled turban, and carrying a sword, he looks like a fairy-tale prince on a white charger. But he looks nothing like Shine. So reluctantly we duck out of that wedding.

And straight into another.

This procession is even bigger and louder than the last. Led majestically by an elaborately adorned elephant, fire-breathers entertain whilst crowds dance to Bollywood tunes blasting out from giant speakers.

‘Come on, let’s dance,’ whoops Jack, grabbing hold of me and twirling me around.

‘I can’t dance,’ I protest self-consciously, laughing in embarrassment, but he just twirls me harder.

‘Just look around you,’ he yells, above the music. ‘It doesn’t matter!’

And as I spin around, I glance at all the people around me and see he’s right. It doesn’t matter, no one is watching; everyone is too busy flinging their arms in the air, bumping and gyrating, leaping and clapping. Inhibitions have gone out of the window, for some more than others, I muse, catching sight of one man who’s rocking out with a sort of jive crossed with head-banging routine.

It’s true what they say: weddings, wherever they are in the world, bring out some crazy dance moves. I’ve seen some bad dancing at weddings, and I mean
really
bad dancing, but the best part of it is no one cares; everyone’s too busy enjoying themselves. Plus here, thankfully, there isn’t a handbag in sight to dance around.

‘Woo-hoo!’

Caught up in the throng of revellers, I find myself dancing with a bunch of other tourists, some Dutch girls and several Italian guys, who really know the meaning of letting their hair down, whilst Jack is commandeered by a larger-than-life lady and her friends, who chuckle loudly in delight. And then for a few moments I lose him in the crowd as a swell of people push past and, hearing a loud honking, have to stand to the side to try and let a cab that’s found itself caught up in all of this mayhem drive through.

Just like we did when we first arrived in Delhi. My mind flashes back. It seems so long ago, I feel like a different person, I muse, glancing in through the car window as it inches past.

And get a surprise. It’s Cindy! Sitting alone on the back seat, she looks terrified.

‘Hey!’ I say, rapping on the window, which is open just an inch.

She shrieks and frantically winds it up, looking even more petrified.

‘Cindy!’ I say again, only louder this time. ‘It’s me, Ruby!’

She glances sideways, a puzzled expression on her face. ‘
Ruby?
’ she mouths from behind the safety of the glass. ‘Is that really you?’ She looks me up and down in disbelief.

‘Yes, it’s me,’ I laugh, amused by her reaction. ‘Where are you going?’

Gingerly she winds down the window, looking left and right as if someone might reach in and pull her out at any minute. ‘I’m trying to get to the airport but this traffic is just insane! It’s worse than on the 405!’ Shaking her head, she cricks her neck out of the window and peers down the street. ‘I wish all these people would just go home! What are they doing?’

‘It’s wedding season,’ I explain.

‘Whatever,’ she gasps bad-temperedly, ‘I feel like I’m in the goddam riots!’

‘Where are your parents?’ I ask, peering inside the car and seeing it’s empty except for Cindy and one very stressed-out cab driver.

‘In LA. Where I’m gonna be as soon as I can get out of here!’ Lunging forwards in her seat, she jabs the cab driver in the shoulder. ‘Can’t you go any faster? I’m gonna miss my flight!’

Dutifully he rests his hand on the horn, but to absolutely no avail. They’ve completely ground to a halt.

‘LA?’ I look at her in confusion.

‘I lied,’ she says simply, turning back to me. ‘It was all bullshit. They were never here, I came on my own.’

‘You did?’ I stare at her, agog. ‘But why?’

‘Bad relationship, bad break-up . . .’ She rolls her eyes and chews hard on her gum.

‘Oh, I’m sorry.’ I suddenly feel myself softening towards her. So even stunning Californian bikini models can get their hearts broken.

‘Yeah, well, I needed to get away, but the last thing I needed was a pity party,’ she says briskly, ‘so I said I was with my parents.’

‘But why India?’

She pulls a dog-eared copy of
Eat, Pray, Love
out of the Louis Vuitton handbag sitting next to her on the back seat. ‘Though coming here was a big mistake. I should have gone to Bali instead and found myself a sexy Javier Bardem type – instead all I got was Jack.’

At the mention of his name I feel myself stiffen.

‘Not that he was even interested,’ she tuts and, pulling out a compact, starts powdering her nose.

My emotions, which have caused my chest to tighten so I can barely breathe, suddenly relax their vice-like grip. ‘What do you mean, he wasn’t interested?’ I barely dare ask.

‘I got the impression he was already spoken for,’ she shrugs, snapping the compact shut. ‘Not that he ever said anything, but it was pretty obvious he was in love with someone else.’

My heart skips a beat.
In love with someone else?

She turns to me and snorts loudly. ‘What? You didn’t think anything happened between us, did you?’

‘Er . . .’ I snap to, feeling myself fluster. My face must say it all. Of course I thought something had happened. I thought they’d slept together! ‘Well, I thought maybe . . . with you staying the night . . .’

‘Oh gawd, no!’ Cindy rolls her eyes. ‘I totally crashed out that night. I haven’t been drinking alcohol as I’ve been on this cleanse, and god-only-knows what they put in those drinks! Anyway, he was a total gentleman,’ she adds, then tuts loudly, ‘more’s the pity.’

But my mind is racing. I barely dare think it, or hope it – and yet: could there be a chance that the person he’s in love with . . . I stop myself, teetering on the edge of the thought . . .
could it be me?

No, that’s nuts. Of course it’s not me! I tell myself sharply. Except, my mind flashes back to the way he looked at me earlier; the feeling I got as we lay next to each other in the tent in the desert; the moment he wordlessly gave me his jacket. Like a stone skimming across a pond, my mind skips from one memory to the next. There was something there, I didn’t imagine it, I know I didn’t— I cut myself off briskly. Stop it, Ruby. You can’t think like this. You’ll only get hurt.

‘Anyway . . .’ Cindy looks ahead at the traffic and gasps loudly. Her taxi hasn’t moved an inch. ‘Jesus, this place is the pits!’ she gasps then, turning to me, demands, ‘Seriously, how can you love this place?’

I look around me, at the people, the colours, the magic.

‘How can you not?’ I ask simply.

She stares at me, uncomprehending, then unexpectedly a space opens up and her cab lurches forwards. ‘Finally!’ she whoops. ‘I’m outta here!’ And throwing her arm out of the window, she waves as she moves off through the crowds.

I wave back, my bracelets jangling, and as I watch the brake lights of the car receding into the distance, I suddenly can’t help feeling sorry for Cindy. And to think I used to be envious of her.

Funny how things turn around, isn’t it?

I keep waving until she disappears, swallowed up by the crowd, and for the first time in a long time I feel truly happy to be me. For so long my bruised heart has been a constant reminder of everything I’ve lost, everything I’ve wanted to change, but here, now, amid all this chaos and festivity, I feel a sense of peace. Of coming home. As if I’ve come out of a long dark tunnel and into the shiny dazzling light, to find my old self waiting for me.

‘There you are!’

I twirl around to see Jack, out of breath from all that dancing. ‘I thought I’d lost you!’