These Foolish Things by Deborah Moggach

Author:Deborah Moggach
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: For the Benefit of Mr. Kite
Published: 2003-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

6

The person who is searching for his own happiness should pull out the dart that he has stuck in himself – the arrow-head of grieving, of desiring, of despair.

(The Sutta-nipata)

“Hi mum, I’m here.”

“Where?”

“Here, in India.”

“What?”

“I’m here, in India!”

“Where?”

“Uttar Pradesh.”

“Utter what?”

“I’m in Uttar Pradesh!”

“You’re here?”

“In an ashram.”

“What?”

“I’m in an ashram! I’ll be with you for Christmas.”

“What?”

“I’ll see you at Christmas!”

“But I’m just wrapping your present.”

“What?”

“I was going to send it to you.”

“You can give it to me instead. Honestly, is that your only reaction?”

“What?”

“I said – ”

“I can’t hear!”

“I thought you’d like a surprise.”

“What?”

“Oh never mind. I’ll ring you when I’m coming.”

The line went dead. Evelyn put down the phone and slumped back on her bed. Of course she was thrilled that her daughter was coming but she also felt drained. She had forgotten this particular brand of exhaustion that only Theresa could produce. Why hadn’t she told her earlier? Evelyn had known her daughter was going to visit at some point but why hadn’t she given her any warning? Of course, Evelyn knew the answer. Theresa didn’t function like that. Evelyn’s heart thumped. Where was her daughter going to stay? As far as she knew, the hotel was full. Theresa wouldn’t – oh please God – sleep in her room, would she? There was a twin bed. Maybe Evelyn could get it removed. She could pretend it had never been there.

Had Theresa come to see her, a daughter-mother thing, or to find spiritual solace? Evelyn guessed the answer to this. Over the past years it had become clear that India had given Theresa something that she herself could not supply.

Oh Lord, Christopher would be here too. Did Theresa know this? Christopher and his family were coming just before Christmas, though thankfully staying at the Taj Balmoral Hotel. Oh Lord. Christopher. Theresa. Marcia.

She must phone Christopher and warn him. No – not warn him, of course. Tell him the good news that his sister was coming.

Oh heavens. If only she could pray but Evelyn knew, definitively, that prayers no longer worked. If only she were Muriel she could offer up something to a god. Krishna, the one with the blue face, was Muriel’s current favourite; she had installed a plaster figurine in her room. She had even been spotted removing a short-bread finger from the sideboard to give him after tea. But then Indians believed that God is everywhere. They prayed to film posters, to anything. They simply draped them in flowers and believed.

Evelyn looked at the possessions she had brought from England – framed photos, her silver hairbrush, the water-colour of West Wittering. She could hardly ply them with biscuits, she wasn’t completely ga-ga. Anyway it hadn’t worked, had it? Muriel’s son still hadn’t appeared. Only the day before, she had asked Muriel if there was any news from the neighbours in Chigwell, Muriel’s only contact. “Not a sausage,” Muriel had replied. If her son didn’t know his mother was in India how on earth could he find her, with or without divine intervention?

Poor Muriel, thought Evelyn.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.