Page 29 of You’re So Vein

“Damn right I’m winning.” I shove Augustin towards the door. “So get out of here.”

“I think I’ll stay.” He touches his fingers to his watch, the way he does, as if he draws power from the diamond-encrusted face. “It’s important to talk with every potential voter. Mrs Ahuja, I’d love to hear what you think could improve our village?”

“Yes, stay! There is plenty of food, and perhaps you can talk my daughter and her father out of this madness!” Mamma shoves Papa’s wheelchair at me and grabs a stack of her real estate pamphlets, which she brandishes in Augustin’s face. “And speaking of madness, Mr Durant, it’s downright absurd that one of our village’s most important residents is stuck in a tiny cottage in the middle of the dreary woods. I have this stunning Tuscan-style villa in the countryside with your name on it. It has a pool and double-glazing for all-day sun—”

“Durant doesn’t want a pool and all-day sun,” I roll my eyes. “He prefers more secluded spots.”

He lives in a cottage in the woods?

Somehow, I can’t picture Augustin with his fancy suits, fastidious grooming, blood-drinking club, and blingy watch living among the dirt and trees and wild animals.

“You mean like that new Sanctus development?” Mamma rubs her hands together. “I’d love to get a look inside that place. You’re friends with the owners, aren’t you, Beta? I’d love to meet them.”

Note to self: Never introduce Gideon to my mother.

“They won’t let just anyone buy a home there,” Augustin says stiffly. “I was unsuccessful.”

There’s a hint of something in his voice. I remember the video I saw of Augustin losing his shit outside the gates of Sanctus, and how Gideon is so sure that he’s not the husker. Is this what it’s all about? Did Augustin help Gideon in exchange for a place at Sanctus? Why wouldn’t Gideon give it to him? Gideon is a scoundrel, but he’s not cruel.

“Chirag, you’re home!” Dolly Auntie rushes in, dropping a pile of toys to give Papa a suffocating hug. Dolly isn’t really my mother’s sister. I can’t actually remember if we’re related or not. ‘Aunties’ are what we call any female relatives or friends of my parents who hang around together in a clan of meddling trouble. “And who’s this you’ve brought with you?”

“That’s Augustin Durant, Komal’s very handsome and extremely single mayoral opponent.” Sunita Auntie appears under Augustin’s elbow. She winks. Panic races through me. What has she got planned? “Tell us, Augustin, don’t you think Komal looks absolutely ravishing in red? Red for victory! And for love, yes? Mmmm.”

Sunita elbows him so hard in the ribs that I swear I hear his bones creak. Her handbag slips off her shoulder and clatters to the floor. “Oops, so silly of me!”

As Augustin stoops to pick up her handbag, business cards cascade onto the floor, which is odd because Sunita Auntie works in the kitchen at Chirag’s Takeaways and doesn’t need a business card, but then I realise the photograph on it isn’t of her.

It’s me.

It was taken at my graduation from RAF training. My hair and makeup are perfection (if I do say so myself), and the wings pinned to my dress uniform sparkle with promise. On the back, Sunita Auntie has written:

Komal (my lovely niece)

Helicopter pilot. Veteran. Kind. Adventurous. Infectious laugh. Good at solving problems. Passable roti. (But don’t ask her to make pakoras. They are like tiny rocks.) Big loving family (so lots of aunties for babysitting). Warning, she does talk back!

Serious marriage proposals to Sunita. But hurry, Komal won’t be on the market long!

Horror grips me as Augustin picks one up. “What are these?”

“Half of matchmaking is in the marketing.” Sunita grins. “I’m helping your parents find you a husband. Take one, Augustin, but I’d put in your resume quickly. We have lots of excellent applicants.”

I glare at my auntie. “ ‘Komal won’t be on the market long’? I’m not a two-bedroom semi!”

“No, you’re an accomplished young woman with your whole future ahead of you.” Sunita scoops up the cards and shoves them at any male guest walking past. “And I don’t understand why you’re still single and living in your parents’ back garden. You could be like Preeti, with a proper job and beautiful children. What happened to that lovely fellow you brought home for Diwali a few years ago?”

What happened is that Sam wasn’t so lovely.

And that is exactly what I don’t want to be thinking about on Social Night, after I’ve broken my father out of the hospital and Augustin Durant is staring at me like I’m a critter in the zoo.

Preeti didn’t have a happy marriage, so I’m not sure she’s who I want to be. And I came back because my family needed me is what I want to say, but I don’t, because I won’t embarrass my sister and family in front of our guests. And I won’t shout at my auntie that she can stop wishing for more grandchildren. Which means I have no choice but to stand here, wallowing in my shame, while Sunita Auntie goes on about all my failings.

Augustin stares down at the card. “You forgot to list argumentative, infuriating, stubborn—”

“I’m not stubborn.” I snatch the card from his hand. “And these are not seeing the light of day. Ever. Got it? Sunita, hand over that stack.”

“Here you go, dear.” She shoves them into my hands. “I’ve got five boxes at home.”

“What—”