Page 93 of Lessons in Life

‘And our Black Forest gateau and lemon meringue. If you’ve not tried them, you should. Even though I say it myself, they wouldn’t be out of place in a restaurant like this…’ He trailed off as the young waiter arrived back at their table.

‘Bonsoir, monsieur, madame, que souhaitez-vous en entrée?’

The next few minutes were spent in discussion over the menu, Kamran conversing in perfect French. While Lisa herself hadn’t used the language much since schooldays – apart from in Calais many years ago when the exhaust had fallen off the Transit van – she was pleased that she was able to follow what was being said.

‘Asian traditional dishes but adapted with French gastronomy focusing on refining classic flavours,’ Kamran explained. ‘Really exciting stuff.’

Whether it was thanks to the champagne combined with the delicious food –raviolis croustillant crevetteswith a sweet and spicy saucethat was placed theatrically in front of them – or Kamran’s apparent genuine interest in her, Lisa began to relax, talk, telling this man just about everything in her life.

‘Gosh,’ she eventually apologised. ‘I’m so sorry, talking so much about myself. That was a bit likeThis Is Your Life. It was one programme Karen allowed herself to watch. I think she had a thing about Michael Aspel.’

‘Didn’t all mothers?’ Kamran laughed and then took hold of her hand, stroking the wonderfully sensitive spot between finger and thumb until Lisa found herself leaning in to him. ‘Lisa, youmustfind out about your birth parents. You might have a whole family in India you’ve not met. Mumbai? Delhi? Jaipur?’

‘I’ve really no idea. It’s only this week I’ve found out that it wasn’t my mum who was Indian; that she wasn’t taken out in an honour killing as Karen always used to tell me.’

‘Why on earth did she tell you that if it wasn’t true?’ He frowned. ‘Lisa, you need counselling: I’m a big believer in it.’

‘No, I don’t.’ She laughed. ‘I just need lovely evenings like this and champagne to loosen my tongue and make me talk. This is as good as counselling.’

‘You know, we have met before.’ Kamran drained his glass of water.

‘Oh? I’m sorry, I don’t…’

‘Clare, my wife, came into the little gift shop where you were working a few years ago. I was waiting outside, impatient as always to be off, and eventually I came in to find her and hurry her along. The shop was busy but you were calm, smiling. I know this is utterly stupid, but I felt a connection with you…’ He trailed off, obviously embarrassed.

‘Really? I’m sorry, I don’t remember.’

‘You wouldn’t. You were being so lovely, laughing along with a customer about something. I stood by the door and watched, just taking in everything about you. You were utterly beautiful and I couldn’t get the picture of you out of my head. I actually came back into the shop a few weeks later. I couldn’t not. You weren’t there.’

‘I was probably ill.’ Lisa felt her happiness at being with Kamran begin to evaporate. What right did she have to be flirting and smiling with this gorgeous man when the reality was that she could have another attack of the bloody awful porphyria at any time? That would soon put him off thisconnectionhe was apparently feeling. Needing – wanting – only to have a wonderful evening with this heavenly man without the spectre of her condition coming between them, she attempted to change the subject.

‘So, Kamran, are you still going ahead with the plan to knock down Hudson House?’

‘Knock it down?’ Kamran frowned. ‘There was never any intention to knock it down.’

‘Oh!’ For a few seconds, Lisa couldn’t think what to say. ‘Why did you go along with it, then, when I was ranting on at you about turning the oldies out?’

‘We – I – do want to find new homes for the residents. I don’t think that will be too difficult, and we certainly wouldn’t do anything until new homes had been found for them all.’

‘Not difficult?’ Lisa finished her glass of champagne. ‘Not difficult?Of course, it’s difficult to move on, to move into new care facilities, to evenfindcare homes with space.’

‘I accept that, but you know, Lisa, care homes close all the time, some go under…’

‘So, if you’re not going to knock it down, what are you going to do with it? You’re not moving your factory into it, are you?’

‘No, of course not.’ Kamran laughed at the very idea. ‘Hudson House is far too beautiful a house, and in far too beautiful a position, to even think about knocking it down. It’s listed anyway – grade two, I believe.’

‘So what? You’re going to renovate it and live there yourself?’

‘Well, I did think about that. Although, as a single bloke, living by myself, it would be far too big. I’d rattle around playing Lord of the Manor like some saddo.’ He laughed again. ‘I’ve talked to my three kids about living there, but they were all dead set against it. And, by the time I’d taken it back to being a family home, the kids would have fully flown the nest.’ He paused. ‘It’s so interesting, Lisa, I’ve been doing a lot of research about my family – the Sattars – and the Hudson family, who originally built the house. There’s a connection, Lisa.’ Kamran’s face was animated.

‘A connection?’ Lisa frowned. ‘What sort of connection? Oh, you mean your family was employed at Hudson’s Textile Mill?’

‘Well, yes.’ Kamran stared. ‘How did you know that?’

‘I didn’t.’ Lisa smiled. ‘I just remember Jess saying something about the large number of workers who came from the Mirpur area of Pakistan to West Yorkshire after partition. You know, invited here to work in all the mills? I assumed Hudson’s was no different. You do know one of the Hudson family is a resident at the home at the moment?’

‘No! No, I didn’t know.’ Kamran put down his glass of water and stared.

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