Page 1 of Pillow Talk
Chapter
One
Sen buttoned his shirt but his eyes lingered on her. Her dark, curly mass of hair was scattered on the pillow and her face was angelic. Angelic? He stopped himself chuckling out loud. Shona Shah was no angel. She was chaos. Her hair was damp with perspiration and, although her arm was flung over her face, he caught a glimpse of her mouth slightly ajar. Shona was real. She was unapologetically authentic.
He got his car key out of his pants pocket and picked up his wallet and phone from the nightstand next to the bed. The crowded nightstand. Books, a hair tie, lip balm, a favour from a wedding that took place two summers ago, and other knickknacks that screamed ‘Shona’.
She stirred for a moment and then turned onto her belly, her even breathing telling him she was still asleep.
Sen padded out of the bedroom and spontaneously shook his head: earlier, they’d been forced to eat their cheeseburgers in the living room because a heap of white fabric, which to him looked like net, was obscuring the dining table. Shona’s sewing machine, boxes of ‘stuff ’ and a horrifying mannequin took up the remaining space.
He moved towards the living room, the only organised room in the house. The contrast of the spotlessly neat living roomand the chaos in the dining room had a deeper meaning but he wasn’t going to explore it – at least not tonight. He looked at his watch: 1am. He certainly didn’t want to be likened to a living room at this hour, or any hour.
I need sleep, he thought as he let himself out. He waited to hear the Yale lock click into place behind him, hurried down the stairs and strode to his car, which was parked on the street. Before getting in, he glanced up at Shona’s apartment. Why Shona? Why is it always Shona, he asked himself.
Shona slammed the invoice book on the table.
‘Aruna, can you not just convince them? This is madness,’ she said, pointing to the invoice book.
Her sister sighed and fell into the nearest chair. ‘They won’t listen, Sho. We’ve been through this every single day for as long as I can remember. No one can talk to them.’
Aruna went back to whatever she was doing on her cellphone. Even pouting, because she was annoyed with Shona, she looked beautiful. She was effortlessly graceful and the image of her sitting on that beat-up office chair could easily be on the cover of any fashion magazine. Aruna had inherited their mother’s looks: high cheekbones, deep-set almond eyes and a sharp jawline. Her long, black hair was straight and always silky, even when it was braided like today. She moved like a dancer because she had the body of one – slender and tall.
Shona, on the other hand, had inherited her father’s thick, wavy hair. The style she’d chosen was flattering; her hair, which was the same rich midnight black as Aruna’s, framed her round face and brushed her shoulders. Her skin was warm brown and smooth. She had dark, steady eyes, a straight nose and full lipsthat were often poised on the brink of a smile. Her arms and hips were strong but soft, and her waist pulled in just enough to show a classic curve. Today, she wore a simple black blouse with earthy embroidery and fitted jeans. Silver bangles circled her wrist, catching the light when she moved. Shona looked like a woman completely at ease with herself, but there were many days when she envied her sister’s grace and figure.
Shona would smile politely as if it was a compliment when people commented that she looked like her father’s mother. But she loathed the idea of any resemblance to her paternal grandmother.
She picked up the invoice book again. ‘Fine. Fine. We’ll do it their way.’
Shona was in no mood to get into it with Aruna, who was more than happy to stay and die in this tailor shop that was still stuck in the era when their grandparents managed it.
She, however, didn’t want to work there forever. She knew she had to or her parents would fail, but it was starting to weigh her down. Her father didn’t want to evolve. He insisted on everything staying the same. Perhaps it made him feel closer to his parents, who had long passed. Or maybe he was just too stuck in his ways.
Her mother simply went with the flow. She was all about ‘appearances’ – although Shona’s family had nothing to boast about. Sure, the family was a household name in the fashion scene. Well, you couldn’t really use Rally and fashion scene in the same sentence. Rally was a small town where everyone knew one another. Community spirit was at the forefront of everything because that’s what Rally was named after. The town’s tourism office spun a story that many moons ago during a devastating flood, which no genuine historical organisation could confirm, the community rallied together to rebuild the town. The town’s council was so committed to the story that when Shona wasabout three, they installed a statue in the town’s square to depict the spirit of Rally. It was supposed to be of two neighbours helping each other. But without a real sculptor in town, it was made by a local construction company with ambitious ideas and no clue how to sculpt. So, as its main feature, Rally got two clumps of cement, one with a red hat, the other with a blue hat, marble eyes and some other unrecognisable elements to finish it off. It was hideous. But it was Rally’s pride and joy. People still took photos in front of it as keepsakes and every important town event happened in front of the ghastly statue.
With the thriving city of Durban less than an hour away, Shah & Sons Tailors had its fair share of business.Sons.There were no sons. Just Shona and her sister Aruna. But her father was such a traditionalist that the name and even the signage hanging above the door hadn’t changed since 1964 when her grandfather opened the store.
The invoice book was a reminder that nothing would ever change. She secretly kept the shop’s financials on her laptop. But it was becoming more difficult to do, especially now.Now.So much had changed. So much was happening. Six months before, Shona’s best friend Anni had got married. When Anni had asked her to make her veil, Shona was ecstatic, nervous and terrified.
Her dream was to open a bridal shop that would be home to the designs she’d been sketching in her book since she was eight years old. One rainy afternoon, Anni had asked her to design her wedding veil. At the time, it was more of a joke because they were just 14years old. Shona had shoved the book in the back of her closet and forgotten about it until Anni announced that she wanted to wear her ‘designer’ veil to her wedding. After begging Shona and bribing her with a daily iced coffee for a week, Shona agreed to do it.
Anni, who ran a successful marketing business on social media, told the story of the veil in one of her online posts. Since then,Shona’s phone had been ringing off the hook and The First Look Bridal Shop was born. For now, Shona was specialising in veils. But she wanted more. She deserved more than ratty invoice books, a shop that she was left to run on her own, and navy and beige suits everywhere she looked.
Her father’s voice made her look up: ‘Are you going to daydream all day or come out to the front to help me take down MrAiyer’s measurements?’ he asked, popping his head into the back office.
Aruna didn’t even make an effort to move. Shona pushed past her sister’s chair and put on her customer service face.
While her father measured MrAiyer, she notice how their longstanding customer had aged in the last couple of years. His dark, wavy hair was almost completely grey and, instead of his typically erect stance, he seemed to be hunched. Then she glanced at her dad. She loved him so much; couldn’t he see that this shop was sucking the life out of him, out of her, out of them?
Her mother was out that morning. She insisted on attending those ridiculous Women in Business tea parties. Never mind that she knew nothing about the very business that had been a part of her life since she’d married Shona’s dad 35years before. Prithi Shah would probably stick out like a sore thumb at the tea. She wouldn’t be comfortable in some tailored business suit – one that would definitely not have come from their shop! She would be worrying about the grey that was starting to peek through her brownish hair. But for one day a week, she got to pretend that they were like every other business family in Rally: rich, sophisticated and happy.
Shona jotted down MrAiyer’s measurements and pursed her lips when her father insisted on giving him a ten per cent discount on the three suits he’d ordered. MrAiyer was polite enough to decline. He was the wealthiest man in Rally, yet he was surprisingly kind and thoughtful. He was also Sen’sgrandfather.
‘Shona, I haven’t seen you in a while. You must be very busy with your new business,’ MrAiyer commented cheerfully.
Shona was surprised but tried to hide it. Of course, her expressive eyes were not on board with that plan, so she stood there wide-eyed, staring at the distinguished older gentleman before he cleared his throat.
She quickly blinked. ‘You know about my business?’
