Lata began to wish that he were up-and-going. Bish had begun to discuss some matter in his department in which he had acquitted himself particularly well.
‘…and of course, not that one wants to take personal credit for it, but the upshot of it all was that one secured the contract, and one has been handling the business ever since. Naturally’ – and here he smiled smoothly at Lata – ‘there was considerable disquiet among one’s competitors. They couldn’t imagine how one had swung it.’
‘Oh?’ said Lata, frowning as she tackled her peach melba. ‘Was there? Was the disquiet considerable?’
Bishwanath Bhaduri shot her a quick glance of – not dislike exactly but, well, disquiet.
Shireen wanted to dance at the 300 Club, but was overruled, and they all went to the Golden Slipper in Free School Street instead, where it was livelier if less exclusive. The bright young things sometimes believed in slumming it.
Bish, perhaps sensing that Lata had not taken to him, made an excuse and disappeared after dinner.
‘See you anon,’ were his parting words.
Billy Irani had been remarkably quiet throughout the evening, and he did not appear to want to dance at all – not even fox-trots and waltzes. Arun made Lata dance a waltz with him despite her protests that she did not know how to dance at all. ‘Nonsense,’ said Arun affectionately. ‘You do, you just don’t know it.’ He was right; she quickly got the hang of it, and enjoyed it too.
Shireen forced Billy onto his feet. Later, when the orchestra struck up an intimate number, Meenakshi requisitioned him. When they returned to the table Billy was blushing furiously.
‘Look at him blush,’ said Meenakshi delightedly. ‘I think he likes holding me close. He was pressing me so close to his broad chest with his strong, golf-playing arms that I could feel his heart thump.’
‘I was not,’ said Billy indignantly.
‘I wish you would,’ said Meenakshi with a sigh. ‘I nurture a secret lust for you, you know, Billy.’
Shireen laughed. Billy glared fiercely at Meenakshi and blushed even more furiously.
‘That’s enough nonsense,’ said Arun. ‘Don’t embarrass my friend – or my younger sister.’
‘Oh, I’m not embarrassed, Arun Bhai,’ said Lata, though she was amazed all right by the tenor of the conversation.
But what amazed Lata most of all was the tango. At about one-thirty in the morning, by which time the two couples were fairly high, Meenakshi sent a note to the band-leader, and five minutes later he struck up a tango. Since very few people knew how to tango, the couples on the floor stood around looking a little perplexed. But Meenakshi went straight up to a man dressed in a dinner-jacket who was sitting with some friends at a table across the room – and enchanted him onto the floor. She did not know him but she recognized him as a wonderful dancer whom she had once seen in action before. His friends prodded him on as well. Everyone cleared the floor for them, and without even any initial discomfiture, they paced and twirled and froze together in swift, jerky, stylized movements with such erotic control and abandon that very soon the entire night-club was cheering them on. Lata felt her own heart beating faster. She was fascinated by Meenakshi’s brazenness and dazzled by the play of light on the gold choker round her neck. Clearly Meenakshi was right; one couldn’t tango in a dowdy choli.
They stumbled out of the night-club at two-thirty, and Arun shouted: ‘Let’s go – let’s go to Palta! The water-works – a picnic – I’m hungry – kababs at Nizam’s.’
‘It’s getting rather late, Arun,’ said Billy. ‘Perhaps we should call it a night. I’ll drop Shireen and –’
‘No nonsense – I’m master of ceremonies,’ insisted Arun. ‘You get into my car. We’ll all go – no, into the back – I’ll sit with this pretty girl in the front – no, no, no, Saturday tomorrow – and we’ll all go now – at once – we’ll all go and have breakfast at the airport – airport picnic – all to the airport for breakfast – bloody car won’t start – oh, wrong key.’
Off zoomed the little car through the streets, with Arun at the shaky helm, Shireen sitting with him in front, and Billy squashed between the two other women at the back. Lata must have appeared very nervous, because Billy patted her hand kindly once. A little later, she noticed that Billy’s other hand was interlocked with Meenakshi’s. She was surprised, but – after the torrid tango – not suspicious; she assumed that that was how things were done when one went for a drive in this kind of society. But she hoped for the sake of their common safety that the same sort of thing was not going on in the front seat.