The Wedding Countdown Page 7

  I shake my head.

  ‘Good.’ Nina’s lips twitch upwards. I guess that in a face full of Botox this passes as a smile. ‘I want both of you reporting to me first thing tomorrow. There may be an assignment for you.’

  ‘Really?’ I can hardly believe it. I’ve not even been here a day and already I’m being offered an assignment. ‘What is it?’

  ‘First thing tomorrow,’ Nina repeats. ‘Don’t be late.’

  Sheesh! How frustrating! I hate having to wait to find things out. I’m a nightmare at Eid. Mummy-ji has to think of really ingenious places to hide my presents. I’ll never last until tomorrow.

  As I leave the office, with Nina’s back to me as she turns to face her stunning view, I’m grinning. I’m going to be given my very first proper assignment as a journalist. I feel like I’m going to explode with excitement. What a day.

  And it’s only lunchtime!

  Chapter 10

  ‘Was I right about these noodles?’ Raj looks smug as I fork up my food like there’s about to be a world noodle shortage. ‘Aren’t they divine?’

  I nod, unable to speak because my mouth is full of the scrummiest noodles I’ve ever tasted. Tossed in sesame oil and coated with just a splash of soy sauce, they are exactly what I needed. Throw in the crunchiest mange touts and there you have it: noodle Heaven.

  ‘Am I forgiven?’

  I decide to put him out of his misery. Apart from buying me such great food Raj has proved to be a very entertaining companion.

  I’ll let him off the hook.

  ‘Phew,’ says Raj, when I tell him so. ‘Nina would so have gone crazy if you’d told her.’ He stares at me hard from behind the trendy specs. ‘You were in there simply ages! What were you talking about?’

  ‘Just the internship.’ I’m not going to tell Raj anything about a potential assignment. Wish had a good point: when it comes to spreading news Raj could give Reuters a run for their money. ‘She asked me a weird question though. She wanted to know whether I was engaged.’

  Raj steeples his fingers. ‘Our boss has a bit of a thing about marriage. Have you heard the tragic tale?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘It’s a tragic story of broken romance, and the real reason she’s a Ms and not a Mrs.’

  ‘I assumed she was gay.’

  ‘Girlfriend, you are so wrong,’ says Raj. ‘When Nina was eighteen her parents arranged her marriage and also for her sister to marry the brother of Nina's fiancé.’

  ‘That’s not unusual,’ I begin, but he raises his hand to stop me.

  ‘Nina went along with her parents’ wishes and the wedding festivities started – but a few days before the nuptials, tragedy struck. Unbeknown to the family Nina’s sister was in love with another man, and she ran away with her lover a few nights before the wedding.’

  ‘Her parents must have been devastated. What happened?’

  ‘They’d lost their izzat for ever,’ continues Raj. ‘People would point fingers at them for the rest of their lives. Nina tried consoling her parents, saying that she would still go on ahead with the marriage, hoping this might put things right in some small way. But no such luck. Her dad believed this was the end for him as a father and a husband, even the end of his life. For what is a man without honour and pride?’

  ‘Nothing,’ I say sadly, thinking of Granddad-ji and Aunt Seema.

  ‘Nina had no choice but to be strong. Her mother didn’t stop weeping and her father just sat in silence. One evening she was awoken by a gunshot.

  ‘There was her father in a pool of blood. That same night her mother keeled over with a heart attack, leaving our Nina penniless, friendless and totally alone in the world.’

  ‘Poor Nina!’

  ‘That was the night Nina vowed never to marry and became the charming boss we know and love today,’ concludes Raj.

  ‘Is that true?’ I ask, hoping not because it’s the most horrific story I’ve ever heard.

  ‘It sure is,’ says Raj. ‘Our boss dragged herself out of the gutter, scraped her way to college by taking all manner of lowly jobs, and now she has success beyond her wildest dreams.’

  ‘But Nina’s so secretive! The papers are always speculating about her past and they never come up with anything. How come you know so much?’

  ‘I’m a shit-hot investigative journalist of course.’

  ‘It’s ’cos he read Nina’s not so secret autobiography, innit?’ Kareena’s head pops up behind Raj’s shoulder. ‘Nina left a printout on her desk last week and nosey parker ’ere couldn’t resist. Before you could say ‘snooping’ he’d copied it and taken it ’ome for a good read.’

  ‘It’s still investigative journalism,’ mutters Raj sulkily.

  ‘Hope I’m there to watch when Nina finds out,’ says Kareena, plonking herself down next to Raj without waiting to be asked.

  ‘I’m Mills,’ I say, holding out my hand. ‘The new intern.’

  Ignoring it, Kareena tosses her hair. ‘Yeah, I know. I saw ya talking to Wish earlier. Fancy him, do ya?’

  Her speech is the oddest mixture of gangsta rap, cockney and standard English.

  ‘We were just talking. He was being friendly.’

  ‘Whatever,’ she snorts. ‘I’d watch out, darlin’, if I was you. Minty won’t like opposition.’

  ‘Minty?’

  Kareena delves into her bag, pulls out this week’s OK! magazine and flicks through until locating an article, which she shoves under my nose.

  I gaze at the magazine where an entire page is devoted to a picture of the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, all flowing blonde mane, baby-blue eyes and rose-petal skin. Standing next to her, with an arm thrown casually around her shoulders, is none other than Wish, dressed in a tuxedo with the bow tie undone and his hair all ruffled.

  They make a stunning couple but I’m taken aback by just how shocked I am to see them together. The shock’s intensified because I recognise her. I’d have to live on the moon not to.

  ‘That’s Araminta Vane,’ I say. ‘The model.’

  ‘No shit, Sherlock.’ Kareena snatches the magazine back and flips through to an advert where Minty is modelling the latest Miracle Bra, showing off her flat stomach and her perfect breasts. ‘Everyone’s heard of Minty Vane. She’s the Boo! Jeans girl and she was in Celebrities in the Desert.’

  ‘Where she should have stayed,’ mutters Raj.

  ‘How come a famous model is dating the GupShup photographer?’ I ask. I’m chuffed to be working for GupShup but we’re hardly in the same league as the mainstream glossies.

  ‘Like, duh,’ says Kareena. ‘Because of who ’ee is.’

  ‘A photographer?’

  ‘Wish isn’t any old photographer, sweetie,’ Raj says. ‘You must have heard of his dad, the cricketer Sher Rahim?’

  Of course I have. Daddy-ji is cricket mad. My earliest memories are of sitting on his lap watching Imran Khan thrashing the Brits, and what I don’t know about being out for a duck isn’t worth knowing. So, yes, I’ve heard of Sher Rahim, or as he’s better known The Sher, which is Urdu for Lion. He’s the cricketing legend who reigned supreme from his debut in the early seventies right through to his retirement in the eighties. I could be a cricket nerd and go on about his undefeated batting record, but I think Kareena and Raj would find watching the noodles congealing more exciting.

  ‘No way!’

  ‘Yes, way. His mum’s Ophelia West, the actress.’

  ‘Wasn’t she a Bond girl?’

  Raj nods. ‘She was in Himalaya Highball with Roger Moore. She played Fannie Fantasia.’

  Sheesh! I bet Sher’s auntie-jis flipped when those two got it together. At least Qas isn’t dating Pussy Galore.

  ‘Sher’s parents went spare, know what I mean?’ says Kareena, tucking OK! back into her bag. ‘They wanted him to ditch Ophelia or else that was it. Shamed, disowned, ostracised. Nice, innit?’

  No wonder Wish was so compassionate about Qas and Lizzie. He’d known somewhere alo
ng the line they’d have some really hard choices to make.

  ‘What about Ophelia’s family?’ I have to know the answer to this because it’s possible Lizzie’s family is equally upset at the thought of their daughter becoming involved with a Pakistani. There’s no point pretending racism doesn’t exist in twenty-first century Britain.

  ‘They were delighted,’ grins Raj. ‘Massive cricket fans, apparently. They idolise Sher and idolise Wish even more.’

  ‘So how did he meet Minty?’

  ‘They grew up together. Wish’s parents have a country pad next to her folks. They’re childhood sweethearts.’

  ‘She’s welcome to him,’ Kareena butts in. ‘He’s an arrogant git, always swanning round the office like ’ee owns it. That’s my phone!’ She adds, jumping up because her mobile is booming out R ’n’ B. ‘Can’t stay here talking all day. Some of us have work to do. Laters!’ She totters across the restaurant on her enormous heels, shrilling into her Nokia.

  I feel like I’ve been through a wind tunnel. ‘Is she always like that?’

  ‘God no! She’s normally ten times worse. That was Kareena being nice and sussing out the opposition.’

  I laugh. ‘I’m no threat to her job.’

  Raj rolls his eyes. ‘Not her job! Her self-appointed role as the office babe. She couldn’t bear seeing Wish talking to you earlier, Mills. You’re the competition and our Kareena believes in knowing what she’s up against.’

  ‘Me? Competition?’

  I think this is highly unlikely. Kareena is one of those perfectly groomed high-maintenance desi chicks, with every designer item under the sun. Maybe wearing them all at once isn’t a good idea but you get the picture. Just thinking about trying to compete with that makes me want to keel over with exhaustion.

  ‘Darling!’ trills Raj. ‘You are simply gorgeous! Have you no idea? When I first saw you I almost wished I wasn’t gay!’

  ‘Whatever.’ I don’t like discussing my looks. In our family Fizz is the pretty one, Roma’s the brainy one and I’m the one in the middle.

  Once the bill’s paid we stroll across the plaza. The air is soupy and the city shimmers before us in a heat haze. Office workers sit on benches and munch sandwiches while fat pigeons watch beadily, hoping for crumbs.

  ‘Kareena has a grudge against Wish,’ Raj says, swapping his glasses for trendy shades. ‘When he joined GupShup she had a humongous crush on the poor guy and did we all know about it!’

  I imagine Kareena with a crush would be a very scary prospect indeed.

  ‘As you’ve probably gathered, Kareena is not known for her subtlety; she doesn’t think twice about going straight for the kill and grabbing the guy there and then, laying claim and letting it be known to the rest of the female population that he’s taken!’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘At the Christmas office party Kareena got a bit squiffy and slurred an indecent proposal into Wish’s unsuspecting ears. He very politely spurned her advances.’

  ‘Poor Kareena,’ I say, as we enter the Tower and head for the lift. ‘She must have been mortified.’

  ‘Unsurprisingly she didn’t take too kindly to Wish’s let’s be friends suggestion. Instead of bowing out gracefully she launched into a scream fest and made a scene in front of the rest of the staff. She really embarrassed both herself and poor darling Wish. And me too, actually.’

  ‘You?’

  ‘Oh yes. She started screaming ridiculous accusations, along the lines of, “Maybe you don’t try it on with any of the girls in the office because you’re not as hetero as you make out? It’s so obvious you prefer Raj’s company to any of the females. Maybe you guys are embroiled in a secret love affair?”’ He pauses. ‘We’re not. Sadly. Anyway, to cut a long story short, Kareena apologised to Wish a few days later and he accepted the apology, promising that her accusations were already forgotten and that it would be wise to put it all behind them and continue as good colleagues.’

  ‘That was nice of him.’

  ‘Wish is nice. And sadly not gay, hence the uberbitch Minty. But that’s another story for another lunchtime.’ The lift doors hiss open and we’re back in the world of GupShup where phones ring and the buzz of excited chatter fills the air. Kareena is busy photocopying, her pretty features twisted into a sulky expression.

  ‘She still holds a grudge against Wish for rejecting her,’ whispers Raj. ‘And she does tend to get mouthy when she’s drunk.’

  ‘You won’t have that problem with me,’ I tell him. ‘Muslims are forbidden to drink.’

  ‘Poor them,’ says Raj with feeling. ‘Still all the more for the rest of us, I suppose. Seriously though, girlfriend, try and avoid sounding out your daily confessionals within Kareena’s radar range because she’s not well known for her discretion.’

  And with this warning Mr Indiscretion himself air kisses me and shimmies over to his desk, allegedly to work but more likely to surf the net until his next coffee break.

  My head’s spinning more than my mum’s washing machine when Qas comes home. I knew I was working for a gossip magazine but I hadn’t realised the gossip would begin with the staff. I look around just in case Wish is in the office but he seems to have vanished. If it wasn’t for my lunch with Raj and Kareena I might even think I dreamed him.

  But I didn’t dream my meeting with Nina Singh and as I begin the riveting task of envelope stuffing I hold the hope of an assignment close to my heart. There’s nothing I want more than the chance to prove myself at GupShup.

  I can hardly wait!

  Chapter 11

  ‘Cool office,’ says Nish.

  It’s Tuesday morning and we’re standing in Nina’s office like two schoolgirls called to see the head teacher. I’m awash with adrenaline, but not Nish. Nothing ever ruffles her; hence she can just sling on jeans for her first day at work, scrape her hair into a ponytail and tell our intimidating boss that her office is ‘cool’.

  Nina inclines her silver head graciously. ‘Thank you, Nisha. Please, sit down girls.’

  We sit and wait expectantly. Nish knows we have an assignment on the cards and all the way to work she was speculating as to what it may be. I think I’ve managed to convince her it isn’t an all expenses paid trip to Goa to check out yoga holidays.

  Nina places both elbows on her glass table and gets down to the nitty-gritty, telling us the purpose of our privileged office visit. It’s all about an idea that Raj and Kareena unwittingly cooked up in the photocopying queue (presumably on a day when they were talking). Unbeknown to them a senior reporter overheard their conversation, which was all about trying to find an eligible desi partner.

  ‘You’re both single,’ Nina says. ‘Not to mention talented, which is why I’ve decided to give you a chance to put together a series of features.’

  We stare at her.

  ‘The Asian dating scene,’ continues Nina. ‘Where do young Asians go to find love?’

  Believe me, if I knew I’d be there.

  ‘The traumas, the excitement, the family pressures.’ Nina is into her stride and gathering momentum. ‘I want the inside story. I want to know about people it’s worked for, people who’ve had bad experiences, what you discover, everything. I want the full story about how young Asians in the twenty-first century are arranging their own marriages.’

  Thinking about the awful story Raj told me yesterday I scrutinise Nina’s face for any emotion but she may as well have been carved from granite.

  ‘Any ideas? Any questions?’ She leans back in her chair. ‘You are allowed to ask, you know.’

  ‘I’m trying to find a Muslim partner so I’ve been thinking about speed dating and Internet sites,’ I blurt.

  ‘Excellent, the personal angle is always good.’

  No it isn’t. Although I’m elated Nina is giving us such a great opportunity I can’t help feeling uneasy. My becharay parents will not be pleased to learn their beti is writing about love rather than politics or current affairs. And they’d die of sh
ame if they knew I was even thinking of dating, let alone writing about it in the national press.

  ‘Supermarkets are the new places to find love,’ pipes up Nish.

  Nina looks unimpressed. But then she probably doesn’t shop in supermarkets but strolls around the Harrods Food Hall placing foie gras and caviar into a wicker basket.

  ‘How about we get in touch with local radio and set up a supermarket dating scenario?’ suggests Nish. ‘Young singles could turn up at certain times and cruise the aisles for love. They can put a code item in their baskets to signify their availability to the other shoppers.’

  Nina looks pained. ‘Yes, yes, I get the picture, but this is nothing new. And it isn’t specifically Asian.’

  ‘But it could be!’ I cry, suddenly seeing the beauty of this plan. As any budding journalist knows, in order to get a story you have to do your research, get word out and get out there to the place of action. ‘Say if we contact a local Asian radio station like HuM SaB FM? We could get something similar going in the London desi supermarkets!’

  Nina nods thoughtfully. ‘And they could run it in conjunction with us, which would be good PR for GupShup. I like it.’

  Nish gives me a look which says, thank goodness for that!

  ‘Make it happen,’ barks Nina. ‘I want some copy we can put to bed for next week’s issue. Take Wish if you need pictures. Well, what are you waiting for? Get to it!’

  We scuttle back into the newsroom and whoop with excitement.

  ‘You haven’t been sacked!’ says Raj.

  ‘We’ve got our first assignment,’ shrieks Nish. ‘A joint series of articles on Asian dating.’

  ‘Nina went for it then?’ This question is from Irfan, the senior reporter, to whom Nish and I report directly. ‘Well done girls!’

  While Nish finds the details of HuM SaB FM, I go online and see what else I can find out about Asian dating. I can’t say I’m wild about the Internet scene but the speed dating could be worth a look.

  I think...

  ‘Looks intense,’ comments Wish over my shoulder. ‘Is that the second article?’

  ‘Maybe.’ I minimise the screen so he can’t see I’ve started to fill in my own details. A girl never likes to look desperate, does she? ‘I’ve got lots of ideas.’