Page 96 of Lessons in Life

‘I can’t believe that,’ Junayd said. ‘It’s absolutely glorious. Look at that heather. Shh…’ He suddenly bobbed down behind a huge boulder, taking Eloise’s hand and pulling her down with him.

‘What?’

‘A skylark.’

‘Well, you won’t be able to take a photo of that,’ Eloise whispered. ‘It’ll turn out just a black dot.’

‘But, oh,the beautyof that black dot.’ Junayd continued to gaze into the cerulean-blue sky. ‘Have you never read Meredith’s poem “The Lark Ascending”?’

‘Er, no, can’t say I have. I was more into maths and sciences, I suppose, than, you know, literature.’ Eloise felt embarrassed at her lack of poetic knowledge. She leaned forwards to take her camera, wanting to preserve Junayd’s image for posterity. Well, at least so she could gaze at his picture in the secrecy of her bedroom. ‘How do you know about English poetry?’

‘Why wouldn’t I? As soon as I knew A levels were the only way out of the mill, I made sure I enrolled at night school. Mind you, the sciences I needed to study medicine – my parents’ dream for me – are pretty much beyond me. I’ve swapped over to English, art and photography. I want to go to university.’ Junayd’s eyes were wide with anticipation at the prospect.

‘Do you miss home?’

‘Iamhome,’ Junayd said almost crossly. ‘Where I am now is home.’ He threw Eloise a look, staring down at the reservoir instead of up at the black dot that was beginning its rapid descent. ‘Do you have any idea, Eloise, why my family and I were, not only invited to this country by your government, but actually driven out of our homes?’

‘Driven out? By whom?’ Eloise was indignant.

‘After partition – you do know about partition? – the Mangla dam was commissioned by a consortium of eight US companies. The Jhelum River, in the Pir Panjal mountains, was diverted, sending billions of gallons of water into the dam.’

‘Surely that’s a good thing?’ Eloise frowned. ‘You know, clean water for drinking, hygiene, industry?’ She glanced down at Wessenden reservoir below them.

‘Hydroelectrics? The whole lot?’

‘Well, yes.’ She paused. ‘No?’

‘Not wonderful for the people like us who were living there. When my family has known nothing but farming and agriculture. When our village, and hundreds like it, disappeared under the water. When, in order to live, to survive, my family had to move.’

‘But you were invited to work here? In Daddy’s mill? I thought youwantedto come?’

‘Oh, a great opportunity? Is that what you’re saying? We should be grateful?’

‘I wasn’t saying that,’ Eloise stuttered.

‘Do you think you Brits want us here?’

‘Well,’ Eloise said stoutly, flushing as she spoke, ‘Icertainly want you here.’

‘You’re such an innocent, Eloise.’ He leaned forwards to stroke her face gently with his thumb and she found herself moving towards him, unable not to. ‘And when I turn up at your coming-out party—’ Junayd smiled as he spoke the words ‘—your father will welcome me, one of his Pakistani workers from the carding shed? Your mother will come forwards, take me by the hand, introduce me to her guests?’

‘My party? How do you know about my party?’ Eloise felt panic setting in at the thought of Junayd turning up unannounced; Muriel’s face as he laid claim to her over The George hotel’s devilled eggs and mini prawn cocktails.

He was laughing now. ‘Oh, don’t worry, just something I overheard at the mill. The problem is, Eloise, we’re worlds apart and, before I fall totally in love with you, we have to stop meeting like this, on the pretence of taking photographs. I wait every dinner break for you, desperate to see you, talk with you, pretending it’s our cameras that’ve taken me there, when really…’

‘Really?’ Eloise held her breath.

‘You know what I’m saying. Your family wouldn’t approve in a million years. And, I have to tell you, Eloise, neither would mine. My father is already questioning me…’ Junayd took her face in both hands, cupping it gently, bending to kiss her eyes, her nose and eventually her open mouth. Never having been kissed before, she wasn’t sure what to do, but instinct somehow, magically, took over and she closed her eyes, loving the feel of him, his breath sweet, his heart beating until she wasn’t quite sure where he ended and she began.

‘This is not good, Eloise,’ Junayd finally said, sitting up and gently pushing her away from him. ‘This is wrong.’

‘Thisisgood,’ she pleaded. ‘It’s right.’ And, reaching for him, she pulled him down into the heather-strewn grass behind the rocks.

* * *

Muriel had insisted Eloise wasn’t to go into the mill –playing at being secretary– the week leading up to the party, when, instead, she was to stay at home and help with arrangements, as well as visit the hairdresser and beautician. Eloise, unable to contemplate five days of not seeing Junayd, had been equally insistent she should. She and Muriel had eventually compromised on her being at home on the Thursday and Friday prior to the do. By offering to pick up some dry-cleaning, as well as sneaking off early from Beddingfield Beauty Bar on the Friday, she managed to meet up with Junayd after work, both driving out to the moors for their secret assignation. When, later that evening, Muriel demanded to know why there were bits of heather stuck in Eloise’s crocheted sweater, the mythical Sarah Huntington-Green and all three of her tall, handsome and rich brothers were quickly resurrected in explanation.

Saturday dawned with a warm hazy morning, the August sunshine quickly burning off the last of the mist to leave a perfect day for a party in the garden. Eloise had longed to invite Janice, Jean and Eileen, but had the good sense to quit while she was ahead: Muriel, she knew, would have had something to say about Hudson’s menders and weavers being on the guest list.

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