A Suitable Boy(488)

‘Well, not managerial,’ said Haresh. ‘I am in a supervisory position at the moment, though my previous job was managerial. I decided to take this job because it has more of a future.’

‘Supervisory?’

‘I am a foreman.’

‘Ah! A foreman.’

‘Praha usually starts people on the shop floor, not even in supervisory jobs.’

‘Hmm.’ Arun took another sip of tea.

‘James Hawley offered me a managerial job –’ began Haresh.

‘I could never understand why the Cromarty Group hasn’t moved its head office to Calcutta,’ said Arun in a distant manner. ‘Puzzling that they should wish to remain a provincial concern. Ah well.’

Meenakshi felt that Arun was being too unfriendly. ‘You’re from Delhi originally, aren’t you, Mr Khanna?’ she asked.

‘Yes, indeed,’ said Haresh. ‘And I went to St Stephen’s College.’

‘And then, I understand, you went to England for your education. Was that to Oxford or to Cambridge?’

‘I went to the Middlehampton College of Technology.’

There was silence for a few seconds, only interrupted by Mr Khandelwal’s return. He was looking even happier. He had an arrangement with the watchman to keep a bottle of whisky and a glass for him at the gate, and he had mastered the art of gulping down a peg in five seconds flat.

Arun continued his conversation with Haresh: ‘What plays have you seen recently, Mr Khanna?’ Arun named a few that were running in London.

‘Plays?’

‘Well, since you’ve come from England, I presume you would have taken the opportunity to visit the theatre.’

‘I didn’t have much of an occasion to see plays in the Midlands,’ said Haresh. ‘But I did see a large number of films.’

Arun received this information without comment. ‘Well, I expect you visited Stratford; it’s not far from Middlehampton.’

‘I did,’ said Haresh, relieved. This was worse than Novak, Havel and Kurilla put together.

Arun began to talk about the restoration of Anne Hathaway’s cottage, and by slow degrees moved from the provinces to post-war reconstruction work in London.

Meenakshi talked about friends of hers who were doing up a mews off Baker Street.

From there the conversation moved to hotels. At the mention of Claridges, Mr Khandelwal, who always booked a suite there whenever he visited London, said: ‘Oh, yes, Claridges. I have a good relation with Claridges. The manager always asks me, “Is everything to your satisfaction, Mr Khandelwal?” And I always say, “Yes, it is all to my satisfaction.” ’ He smiled, as if at a private joke.

Mrs Khandelwal looked at him with suppressed anger. She suspected that his trips to London had a carnal as well as a business element to them, and she was right. Sometimes she would phone him up in the middle of the night to ensure that he was where he had said he would be. If he complained, which he rarely dared to do, she would tell him that she had mixed up her time zones.

‘What do you like best about London – when you do happen to go there?’ asked Arun, turning to Haresh.

‘The pubs, of course,’ said Haresh. ‘No matter where you go you bump into a pub. One of my favourites is that wedge-shaped pub near Trafalgar Square – the Marquis of Anglesey – or is it the Marquis of Granby?’

Mr Khandelwal looked somewhat interested, but Arun, Meenakshi, and Mrs Khandelwal gave a collective shudder. Haresh was behaving like a real bull among the Rosenthal.

‘Where do you buy toys for your daughter?’ asked Mrs Khandelwal quickly. ‘I am always telling Mr Khandelwal to buy toys from England. They make such good gifts. People are always being born in India and I don’t know what to give them.’

Arun quickly, and with accuracy and aplomb, gave the names of three toy-shops in London, but ended with a hymn to Hamleys: ‘I always believe, though, Mrs Khandelwal, that one should go for the tried and tested stores. And really, there still is nothing to compare with Hamleys. Toys from top to bottom – nothing but toys on every floor. And it’s done up beautifully at Christmas. It’s on Regent Street, not far from Jaeger’s –’

‘Jaeger’s!’ said Mr Khandelwal. ‘That’s where I bought a dozen sweaters last month.’

‘When were you last in England, Mr Mehra?’ asked Haresh, who was feeling left out of the conversation.

But something appeared to have got stuck in Arun’s throat, because he took a handkerchief out of his pocket and began to cough, pointing with his left hand to his Adam’s apple.

His hostess was all solicitude. She ordered a glass of water for him. The servant brought in a thick tumbler of water on a stainless steel thali. Seeing Meenakshi’s horrified look, Mrs Khandelwal shouted at the servant.