Rani, George, Gopal, Leila, and Fathers Ryan and Malachy were in the large hallway of Hope House waiting for cabs to take them to the airport. A large pile of cases was standing by the door, and Rani was reminded of when she had left for England to go to the abbey of St Benedict and St Lucy, under the care of Sister Monica.
Nineteen years had passed since then, yet looking around her now, it felt like yesterday! Kuku the chef was looking after the house in their absence, and Rajinder had said he would call in to make sure everything was OK. It felt strange to be leaving again. In the years since she’d come back from England, she had felt no need to do so. It wasn’t just that she had no desire to see life beyond the walls of the old house, although it was true that wandering around a busy city held little interest for her. What she couldn’t bear was the staring of men as she passed by, her striking face and silver eyes never failing to draw attention. Short of covering her face with a veil, she either tolerated it, or didn’t go out at all, and she chose the latter. Rajinder seemed happy enough to come to the house, although she knew he would be even happier if she made the effort to go out more.
The bell by the front door rang, and within minutes they were on their way to the airport and England, to see Harish and the manor that belonged to his family, Wishanger Hall.
***
That afternoon, Harish and Delilah once again stood at the front of the house, having received a call from the station to say that the party from India would soon be there.
‘You are excited to see your family?’ asked Delilah,
‘Of course,’ replied Harish, ‘but I also feel some trepidation, as though I have to explain what I’ve done so far and prove myself somehow.’ He thought for a moment. ‘I feel like I’ve been here for so long, yet it’s only been about a month.’
‘You have nothing to explain,’ stated Delilah. ‘Nor will they ask for anything specific. I think only they will be glad to see you, to know you are alright, and that you are happy.’
‘Really? They’ll want to know if I’m happy? Truthfully Delilah, I’ve no idea if I am or not. I suppose I’ve settled in well enough, but I feel displaced. Now I don’t know where I belong.’
‘I see your problem,’ she said, ‘but I think you are making a mistake. You expect to feel an emotion that will tell you where your place in the world is. I say to you that your place may be many, and to expect to know and feel a connection to one place only is a mistake. Auntie Meera once told me this, and she is right. I have been here for one year and sometimes long for my home in India, yet when I was there last Christmas my thoughts were of England, London, my studies, and my friends here. One must bend with the wind, is that not so, to not break? Only in that way, will life be possible. You can be happy in both places, Harish, if you do not try to split yourself in half.’
Harish considered this for a moment, then turning to his friend, he threw his arms around her and held her tight. Delilah felt a delicious shiver run through her, holding him tightly back, and as close to her as she could. She looked up at his face, his eyes brimming with tears which matched her own, then raised her mouth to his in preparation for the inevitable kiss. The kiss never came, and Harish quickly pulled away.
‘Delilah, we need to talk, we…’ Before he could say more, she turned and fled, just as two black taxis came into sight at the top of the long drive. Looking back, he saw her running up the grand staircase. The timing couldn’t have been worse. It was all his fault. He should have spoken to her a long time ago, to set things straight. He was quite aware of her feelings for him, and supposed that he’d hoped she would grow out of it and meet someone else.
He loved her deeply, that wasn’t in doubt, and he wouldn’t demean the relationship by saying she was like a sister. She was nothing like how he imagined that might be, he just couldn’t see himself with her as his partner, in fact, not just her, but anyone. He felt no need for it. He knew this was perhaps unusual for someone of his age, but it was how it was. He felt completely at ease with it and had no intention of questioning himself any further on the subject. Hopefully, she would come back down shortly, and they could talk later when everyone was in bed. Their guests would probably need an early night after the long flight, and the trip from London.
A minute later, Benson made his usual timely appearance to help with the luggage, and Harish hurried to help his mother from the car. Fathers Ryan and Malachy had already leapt out and were looking around them with interest.
‘It’s quite a pile you have here, Harish,’ Father Malachy said, his Irish accent sounding stronger now he wasn’t in India.
Harish laughed. ‘Well, yes, it is rather. It was quite a shock for me too when I first saw it. It makes Hope House look like a country cottage!’
‘Not quite, not quite, but it certainly shrinks in comparison. This place is vast!’ agreed Father Ryan.
The pair wandered towards the house and Harish turned to find his mother standing behind him. He hugged her then took a step back.
‘Welcome, Mummyji. How are you? Tired from the flight?’ he asked. As usual she looked composed and might have just arrived from the village down the road, rather than India, thousands of miles away. Her black sari was without creases, her dark skin was smooth and unlined, and she was smiling.
‘Hello my darling. I am so glad to see you and be here. Yes, a bit tired, but you must remember that I have flown that route for many years, over and over. It is nothing new to me. I am used to it.’
She was referring to the yearly trip she made from the convent in England back to India, to visit Harish. He certainly did remember the trips, and the excitement of her coming home. He also remembered the upset of her leaving again a few weeks later, although it was true that he’d had many fathers and mothers during that time, as well as friends like Sami and Mati, whom he’d developed a deep attachment to. Once she had been gone a few weeks, things settled down again, as did the upset. It had been a relief when she told him that she’d felt the same, her desire to hide away slowly shrinking against her growing desire to be with him. She had considerable regret, she said, yet also felt she’d had no choice.
‘Always I am torn.’ This was a statement he had frequently heard her say, but only now did he fully understand what she meant. Perhaps he’d inherited it? He shuddered at the thought, then threw his arms around her to give her another hug.
‘It feels like I haven’t seen you for months, rather than just a few weeks. How strange time is…’ Before he could say any more, George enveloped him in a bear hug, then holding him at arm’s length, looked him up and down.
‘What are you looking for?’ Harish asked. ‘I’m the same as before. Nothing’s changed!’ He felt uncomfortable under such direct scrutiny, George’s piercing dark eyes seeing through him as though he was made of glass.
‘Impossible,’ declared George. ‘If this does not change you, then there is a problem! All will be well; I have no doubt!’
‘I’m glad you have so much confidence!’ replied Harish. ‘I wish I did!’
‘I will walk for a few minutes… Rani, will you come?’ The pair slowly wandered towards the house.
Harish went over to the priests who were gazing up at the old house. Its appearance was familiar to Father Ryan, because of his involvement in the research and legalities of Harish claiming his family home and title. Even so, it seemed much larger in real life, and infinitely more beautiful. He let out a low whistle.
‘It’s a fine house, and so large. The photographs don’t do it justice. I can’t wait to have a good look around. I’m not tired at all and slept most of the journey on the plane.’ He gave Harish a hug, quickly followed by Father Malachy who did the same.
‘It’s amazing! How are you getting on?’ they both asked, simultaneously.
‘Well, it’s been difficult, I suppose,’ replied Harish, ‘but in another way, not. I don’t know…’
Before he had time to say more, he saw Leila and Gopal walking towards him, both smiling, yet clearly in awe of their surroundings.
‘At last, we are here,’ called Leila, hurrying over. ‘All is well?’ she asked. ‘You are happy to be here?’ She looked rather anxious, she too overwhelmed by the size of the house and the enormous responsibility it would be. ‘I hardly have the words to say how I feel,’ she continued. ‘We are here at last, and you have Wishanger Hall. You look well – relaxed. There will be plenty of time to talk later.’
‘You know how we are in India,’ Gopal said. ‘There is so little space around the city, and lately we have been nowhere. To have so much land around you… It feels strange, and the freedom it gives, uncomfortable.’
From the corner of his eye, Harish saw Delilah kiss his mother. He was glad she’d managed to come outside, although shouldn’t have doubted that she would. Sulking wasn’t her style, nor would she do anything to embarrass him.
‘Come on, everyone inside,’ he called. ‘Tea and coffee are waiting, and then Benson will show you to your rooms.’
Rani was taken aback when she walked into the grand hallway. ‘It’s beautiful Harish! You know, I came here once when I was in England. I sat in the field above the house and looked down. I wanted to come and say please leave now; my son will soon be here.’ Rarely allowing herself to be moved in public, two tears slipped down her cheeks.
Father Ryan quickly stepped forward and handed her a handkerchief. He was surprised, and rather moved himself. He knew Rani very well, but also knew that she kept much of what she felt inside. It must be difficult for her to see her son here, knowing that she wouldn’t see him anywhere near as much from now on. He would talk to her later.
‘Really?’ asked Harish, surprised. ‘You never said.’
‘No. There seemed little point. You would come soon enough, and perhaps sit in the same place and view the house for yourself. Also, I did not want to interfere. The house is yours, not mine…’
‘Ours, Mother. All of ours. Our family, and by that, I mean everyone here. Delilah and I did sit in the same place.’ He pointed to the ridge at the top of the fields. ‘Right there!’
Rani nodded. ‘Yes, I too.’
Father Ryan thought Harish looked different, older somehow, more confident, although he certainly hadn’t lacked that before. Seeing them standing side by side was always rather disconcerting, their identical silver eyes glinting in the same way, rather like age-different twins. He smiled.
‘And what are you smiling at?’ asked Harish, noticing the priest observing both him and his mother. ‘Another person studying me and forming an opinion! I’m just me! Harish Hope! The boy from Delhi!’
‘Well, I’m not exactly studying, and definitely not forming an opinion!’ came the reply. ‘I was just intrigued by your and your mother’s eyes. They’re identical of course. To see one of you is striking enough, but both…’
‘Oh, the eyes,’ said Rani impatiently. ‘I have lived with this for my entire life, and as a woman it has affected me greatly.’
‘It hasn’t affected me at all,’ added Harish. ‘Most people don’t even comment on them.’
‘Then you are lucky!’ Rani replied. ‘It is for this reason only that I rarely leave the house.’
It was the first time she’d openly admitted it, although she and Father Ryan had discussed it many times.
‘Perhaps you should wear sunglasses?’ suggested Harish. ‘We’ll get you a nice pair whilst you’re here, then you’ll be free to go out whenever you like.’
‘That’s a great idea!’ said Father Ryan. ‘Now, coffee please. I’m gasping…Then a mini-tour.’
***
Half an hour later the others followed Benson up the stairs, and Harish took Father Ryan from room to room, as requested. The pair now stood in front of the sitting room mantelpiece, gazing at the photograph of the family in front of the house, a replica of the one in the sitting room in Delhi.
‘It’s odd to see this here, isn’t it?’ Father Ryan asked. ‘So many years of looking at it, with everything seeming so distant and far away, and here they were looking at the same photograph. It’s rather like a portal from one side to the other, of so many thoughts and feelings.’
‘Yes, I know,’ replied Harish. ‘I felt the same when I saw it. It belonged to Uncle Charles’ mother, that’s grandfather’s sister. They were very close, I’m told.’
‘Such a shame that things couldn’t have been patched up before now.’
‘Isn’t it? Still, here I am. There’s one more room I want to show you. Follow me. I think you’ll like it…’
He led Father Ryan through the gallery and down the corridor that led to the chapel. Slowly opening the door, he led the priest in, the cool air noticeable on their hot faces, and the scent of damp stone, beeswax, and incense from times past, still lingering around them.
‘Ah,’ said Father Ryan, ‘I knew there would be one in a house like this that belonged to staunch Catholics. What a beauty and so hidden away, not a single window, and the door concealed, I imagine.’
‘Yes, apparently hundreds of years ago they had to remove a few blocks of stone each time they wanted to get in here, and in more recent times, the panelling slid back to reveal the door. I keep the panelling back all the time now because I’m here so often. I light the candles and more recently a few cones of incense, like in the prayer room at home. The local priest gave me them, and some holy water too. His name is Father Martin. He’s nice, you’ll meet him, I’m sure. I’ll invite him over for dinner.’
The pair walked up the aisle and sat in the front pew.
‘So, tell me Harish. How are things?’ Father Ryan asked. He’d watched Harish whilst they were drinking coffee. At a glance he seemed his usual self, but the priest wasn’t convinced.
‘Well,’ replied Harish, choosing his words carefully. ‘I don’t really know. On the surface everything’s fine, and I think I’ve come to terms with what happened. Both Grandfather and Father should have come to sort things out, but they didn’t, and nothing is going to change that. I like Uncle Charles a lot. He’s suffered too and was as much a victim of circumstance as I’ve been, so at some point I just had to let it go.’
‘Wise I think, Harish. There’s nothing to gain from old resentments being held permanently, but now that you’re here, what do you feel?’
Harish thought for a moment. ‘It varies from day to day. Sometimes I can’t imagine being anywhere else, and at others, I want to pack a case and get on the next plane back to Delhi, where everything was simpler, and no one expected anything from me.’ He laughed. ‘I’m confused and rather torn. That just about sums it up, but…’ He looked away for a moment.
‘Yes,’ prompted Father Ryan, more gently now. He had suspected all along that something was on Harish’s mind, not directly connected to Wishanger Hall or the burden of the place, but something else entirely. ‘Do tell me. I know when something’s bothering you and I can see that’s happening now.’
‘Yes, I suppose you do, and you’re right. You see, since coming here and discovering the chapel, I’ve felt drawn to an altogether different life.’
The priest’s stomach dropped. From the moment he’d been brought into the chapel, he had feared Harish might say something like this. When he was showing him the portraits on the stairs, Harish had seemed rather enamoured with Father John, the earl who had become a monk, and spent much more time talking about him than any of the others, which had seemed rather odd.
‘Please say more,’ prompted the priest again, wanting to encourage the young man to speak and share what he’d held inside him over the past few weeks.
‘I think you know already what I’m saying, Father Ryan. I keep thinking about a religious life… A life of prayer and contemplation.’
The priest waited. He didn’t want to jump in before giving Harish a chance to reveal everything about an issue that had clearly been troubling him.
‘Just before you all arrived Delilah made a pass at me, you know, tried to kiss me. I’d hugged her to thank her for helping me so much and hadn’t intended it going any further. I didn’t allow it, of course, and stopped her right away. I blame myself. I knew something like that was brewing and should have spoken to her and not put it off.’
‘Yes, I see. I suppose you should have, but that might not have stopped it.’ Father Ryan thought Delilah a wonderful girl, smart and full of life. She would have made a fine partner for Harish, yet each time he’d thought of it, the images simply wouldn’t come. Harish wasn’t the marrying kind, at least not now, anyway.
‘I don’t know. I’ve never wanted that from her. I love her, but not in that way.’ There was silence for a moment before he continued. The candles he’d lit a few hours earlier flickered gently from some unidentifiable breeze, making soft spitting noises as the flames touched the molten wax, which then echoed around the stone room.
‘I’ve even wondered if I’m like Father and George? I wouldn’t mind it, not at all, but Father Ryan, it’s not that. I’m not gay.’
‘Perhaps you just need to give it time? There have been so many changes… It’s quite a burden, you know, although I must say, this place is just wonderful. I think you could be very happy here.’
Harish closed his eyes and the priest looked around him, trying to imagine who else had sat here discussing their problems over many hundreds of years. Plenty, he supposed, some of the ‘problems’ a matter of life and death, not a kiss from a girl that most men could only dream about. No one’s life passed without trouble. If anything could be guaranteed, it was that! He could imagine those from times past sitting on the very same bench, whilst the king’s men ransacked the building, looking for dissenters. How terrifying that would be! Harish was young, and although he seemed to have taken on the burden of Wishanger Hall with some ease, he had other issues to deal with, like most young men of his age. He would also have to deal with the new issue that had revealed itself in the form of an envelope hidden in the desk at Hope House. Rani had discussed it with him, and her intention to tell her son when they were in England.
His mind went back to the evening when he and Father Malachy had discussed their input in raising the boy. It was true that they’d done their best and he wasn’t going to question that now. They had loved him like their own, and as far as they were concerned, he was. Taking a quick glance at Harish, he had no idea if he was praying or resting, but with a long and almost silent sigh, he continued to sit beside him, intending to do so for as long as was needed. A few minutes later, Harish turned to look at him.
‘You’re right. Coming here is enough for the moment. That I don’t want a relationship doesn’t need to be dealt with now, except to sort things out with Delilah. We need to talk. I’m just twenty-one, and a relationship on top of everything else would be stupid. I need to learn not to worry so much, take things as they come, you know?’
‘Wise words. Easy to say and less easy to do, but I think you’re on the way to achieving it. It’s a beautiful chapel, and I can see why you come in here so often, but don’t forget that life is lived out there…’ He pointed to the door. ‘You can find God there too.’
Harish nodded. ‘I know. I’m not saying that the issue of a monastic life won’t be raised again, but I’ll shelve it for now.’
‘Good man! Try to enjoy the experience, if that doesn’t sound too obvious. And your mother says you’re coming home for Christmas which will be something to look forward to.’
‘Ah, Christmas, and the tree. It’s a family tradition. I’d like to be there for that, but I must talk to Benson and find out what they do here.’
‘I imagine they would do something similar. It was your grandfather that started the tradition at Hope House. Some of the decorations for the tree came from here, you know that?’
Harish nodded. ‘Yes, my mother told me. It’s amazing they have survived for so long.’
They left the chapel a few minutes later, and Harish headed upstairs to have the belated discussion with Delilah, hoping she would be in her room. He tapped on her door, then after a few seconds opened it and looked inside. Delilah was lying on her bed, hands behind her head and staring at the ceiling. She made no attempt to acknowledge him as he came in, nor when he sat on the edge of the bed and reached out to hold her hand. She didn’t stop him doing it though, which he had half expected.
‘Delilah, I…’ he began, but was soon silenced by the girl who had been doing much soul-searching of her own. She squeezed his hand, then let it go.
‘I know what you are going to say. There is no need, Harish. Your feelings were already known to me. I was stupid. Sorry.’ A few tears rolled down her cheeks, which dropped onto the pillow under her head.
‘No Delilah, never that. Just hear me out. I was aware that your feelings had perhaps developed romantically. It was my fault. I should have instigated a discussion back then. You see, I do love you. I always will. You’ve been with me every step of the way on this journey, and you’re still here. You’re part of it all.’ He spread out his arms expansively to encompass the entire estate of Wishanger. ‘The thing is, I barely know what I want or feel right now about anything. I just spoke to Father Ryan, and told him I was considering a monastic life, you know, become a monk.’
Delilah almost leapt off the bed. ‘What?’ she yelled. ‘You are mad? Why do you say this? A monk? You are running away, my friend, from the things you are finding difficult! Better that you go back to India to consider your life and come to Wishanger again when you are older. A monk?’ She shook her head.
He smiled. Only Delilah or perhaps her aunt would have been so forthright in their response. ‘No worries. Father Ryan dissuaded me, for now, anyway. Look. I’ve been wanting to say this… I know you’ll be going back to university in a few weeks, but I want you to consider the place yours to come to whenever you like.’
‘Harish, you do not need to offer this. There is no need.’
‘No. I mean it. If you’re happy with the blue room, then consider it yours. If you’d like to make an apartment from some of the empty rooms, then do that. Whatever you want.’
‘Thank you. I shall think about it, but no more monk-talk please. This is not your path!’
‘Time will tell, Delilah. Now, let’s go and see if our guests are up and about yet. Oh, and do tell your father that he can stay here anytime he likes, won’t you. He’s great company and might be able to give me some advice about keeping the place going?’
‘I know he will want to come. I shall tell him. There is talk of when your mother comes again with Rajinder, he will come with them then. The two are very close friends.’
‘Good. I’ll see you downstairs.’
Harish left the room, and Delilah got up to sort out her hair and face. She felt better for having talked things through. She would focus on her studies, and what with seeing her aunt and her father coming over, most likely at Christmas, and visiting Wishanger too, she would be kept busy. It would have to suffice, and like Harish and his worries, she would just have to get on with it. Within minutes she was in the kitchen helping Jessie with lunch, her aching heart soothed somewhat by the conversation that they’d had, and by her own decisions about a future that would still be filled with many amazing things. She had no intention of wasting a minute of it in wishing for something that she could never have.
Judging by her flushed face, Jessie correctly came to the conclusion that something had upset the girl in front of her, and had little doubt that Harish was at the bottom of it. Whatever had happened, Delilah was made of strong stuff, and as sorry as she was that she was upset at all, knew that the girl would cope. She had great things ahead of her and would bet her last pound on it too!
‘If you take this tray upstairs, I’ll follow with the rest. The main meal is tonight, and we’ve got help coming in for that.’
Delilah did as she was told, and united by their mission, all affairs of the heart were temporarily at least put to one side, as they climbed the stone staircase that led to the main hall.
‘It’s going to be a wonderful two weeks,’ Jessie said, excited and meaning every word.
‘Yes, I believe you are right,’ replied Delilah, taking in a deep breath, and fixing a smile on her lovely face. ‘A wonderful two weeks…’