Today, I was clearing a deluge with the back of my hand. The sights of a day. I let it flow, then it stopped and dried, and somewhere during that process, I must’ve drifted off to sleep.
There was a knock. I think I heard a knock. The door opened just as I raised my head.
‘I knocked,’ Andrew said.
My face was a mess. It had to be.
‘Was that a good rest?’ Andrew asked, picking up a pen that had dried.
I nodded, smiling. Everything was in place mercifully. Kajal, mascara, hair.
‘It doesn’t matter, Myraah, that you didn’t know Ravi might contest these elections,’ Andrew said, returning the pen to the holder.
I nodded. I was smiling. I had pulled back in my seat; my arms were crossed. I was the picture of dignity and command, I assured myself. Andrew’s eyes seconded that.
‘This is my line of work, that’s why I heard first.’ Andrew’s voice was so soft and soothing, it was as if he was wary of volume, that it might stoke an unnecessary emotion.
‘I want to go to Coonoor for the weekend,’ Andrew announced, breaking a comfortable silence.
‘Why?’ I had been staring at him, and there was a trace of colour on his cheeks.
‘My great-grandmother… Maybe there’s more to those notes.’
‘I think–’
‘You want to go, too?’ he asked before I could finish. Our eyes met like old friends on a familiar street.
I reached for the pen Andrew had just returned to the holder. ‘I would love to, Andrew.’
‘Great!’
‘Two rooms.’
‘Of course.’
As Andrew left the room, I picked up my phone and opened the camera, turning it to selfie mode. My face, like my emotions, was in disarray.Was.I winked, and then smiled at my reflection, a sexy slant of the lips. A better look definitely.
Chapter 25
Andrew and I hadn’t done road trips together until we trailed Hari Rao latterly. That would hardly count as a jaunt, but we were on the road for about eight hours on each of those two days.
Andrew’s eyes were on the road. He fiddled with the music system every now and then, changing stations and increasing and reducing the volume. Apologizing every now and then, too loud or soft. I was taking in everything my eyes clapped on – the dark sky, the green earth, a barking dog, a cycle parked at the side of the road.Whose wheels were they? Where had he gone?
At some point, I settled deeper into the seat, my shoulders relaxed, and my eyes caressed Andrew’s profile. His body language had tempered, too.
We stopped for breakfast a couple of hours into our journey. Andrew had swerved into a place earlier but quickly steered us back on the road. ‘The dosas aren’t good here,’ he said.
I nodded. I didn’t really care what we ate and where; it was too early for food for me.
Andrew’s smile was warm when we stopped 20 minutes later; my expression was puzzled. I had been flicking through Bhumika Velu’s notes.
‘What do you know about Catherine Brown?’ I asked, seated opposite him.
Andrew had eaten his dosa and was finishing mine when I tossed the question at him.His face wore a quizzical expression when he looked up. ‘She’s my great-grandmother – Noelene’s mother.’
‘I know,’ I said, smiling. ‘What’s her life story? Where did she grow up?’
Andrew laughed. It had a nervous ring to it.
