Gold

By Seema Jha

The art of storytelling is as ancient as human civilization itself. There are storytellers and then there are storytellers but when Seema tells a tale, one is mesmerised, transfixed and at the same time thrilled by her simplicity and elegance in untangling a complex knot of human emotions and motivations. The present novel is no exception. It belongs to the genre of books called unputdownable.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Jan 21, 2020
• ISBN: 9781728397825

Seema Jha

Seema Jha is a prolific novelist who lives in Boston, Lincolnshire, UK with her husband and their son.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

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I have a skeleton in my cupboard, Om looked at Anita with a grave expression. Anita quietly wondered what his great revelation was going to be. It did appear to her as though he had been debating with himself whether or not to divulge the information he was about to.

I’m sure your skeleton is just metaphorical but mine is real, Anita found Om’s manner somewhat vexatious. There had been no need for him to pause. It appeared to her to be a ploy to heighten her curiosity.

I don’t quite understand, Om seemed baffled. That was the response she had wanted. Despite that, she felt a little annoyed with herself for speaking as she had done. There was naught to be achieved by prolonging the moment. He clearly wanted to disclose some details about himself and her words were delaying the process.

My pathetic attempt at humour, I’m afraid. Nothing more and nothing less than that, Anita gave a sheepish smile. He appeared to be giving her his rapt attention. She wondered how long that would last. He would, no doubt grow tired of her silly chatter. Be that as it may, she had to be herself. If he was not happy with who she was, how she was, she had to know sooner rather than later.

Rather macabre, don’t you think, Om’s thin lips had moved downwards. He clearly disapproved of her. Maybe they were not meant for each other. There was no point thinking so far ahead anyway. It was possible he had only friendship in mind.

I suppose it is. My Mom says I’m ghoulish. My grandmother says more or less the same thing. She seems to think it’s because I watch crime shows. It’s not your average sense of humour, I grant you that, but we’re all different. Enough about me. What is this skeleton we’re talking about. Your secret in other words, Anita raised her eyebrows. An alcoholic perhaps. Worse still, a secret paedophile. Who knew. He was after all, in a manner of speaking, merely a stranger. She had ample time to steer clear of him if she chose to. Making him even a pal was a bad idea if he was trouble.

It’s not very nice, Om’s fine eyes looked straight at her. He appeared thoroughly ashamed of himself. Anita’s perplexity deepened. She did not like his cryptic manner. If he had come as far as to say that there was something camouflaged about him, a step further wouldn’t kill him surely.

Such secrets seldom are. A secret that qualifies as a skeleton in the cupboard cannot be a wonderful one. Enough of this suspense. You haven’t murdered someone, I hope. Then you would have a skeleton in your cupboard literally. My weird sense of humour has no desire to leave me, I think. I must stop before you start despising me utterly, Anita tried to deduce from Om’s countenance what he thought of her. It was a pointless exercise anyway. Om’s face was a blank. If he had indeed formed an opinion of her, he was hiding it well.

No chance of that, I don’t think, I’m afraid I’m rather superficial. I think you’re stunning to look at and I’m least interested in what lies within, Om followed his words with a smile that lit up his face. So he did fancy her. She certainly didn’t think he was pretending to be besotted with her. On the other hand, he could be doing precisely that because he perhaps wanted to be physically intimate with her. Flattery did get people everywhere, he imagined, no doubt.

A skeleton lies within me, I mean, as within everybody. I must apologise. I said I would stop being ghoulish and I should respect my own words. Anyway, that is neither here nor there. Reveal whatever it is you want to. I promise you I won’t be shocked. Anita scrunched her face in anticipation of what was to come. Om’s shapely nose had wrinkled a little as though the subject he was about to make known was abhorrent to him.

You might be. I used to be a drug addict. Not any longer. Went to a drug deaddiction centre. Got rid of it entirely. But I thought you had a right to know. Make what you will of that, Om was looking abashed. Clearly embarrassed, he averted his gaze. Anita understood his predicament. Most girls would keep a fellow with a checkered past like his at arm’s length. He was obviously thinking that after having learnt of his weakness, she would have nothing to do with him. Well, he thought wrong.

I can’t say I’m too pleased to hear that. Anyway, here’s something we both have in common. I too cannot look beyond looks. Your appearance is all I care about really. If that exposes me as shallow, then so be it. You’re no different. We have nothing to worry about, Anita gave him what she considered a reassuring smile. So far he was simply a casual acquaintance. It did appear however that her views mattered a lot to him. That was a good sign, surely. If he had regarded her as an insignificant person in his life, her assessment of him would not have been of any importance to him.

You took that rather well. An average person would have had a fit of some sort, I’m sure, Om appeared relieved. The cat was out of the bag. Anita couldn’t help thinking that whatever else Om might be, he clearly was honest. Not many blokes would blurt out their flaws in such an earnest fashion.

Never call me average. I’m not, Anita pretended to scowl. Om responded to her mock anger with a little smile. It was enough that he regretted his earlier errors. Maybe bad company, evil so-called friends had started him on that path of destruction. Or perhaps it was something else entirely. He could have had personal problems which might have led him to the escape of a drug filled world. It was also possible that he simply had wanted to explore, to experiment.

I don’t suppose you are, Om’s voice suddenly was more soft and tender than it had been. The fact that Om had confided in her was good and perhaps meant they now had a bond. She looked at his broad shoulders. The grey T-shirt and jeans he had chosen to wear for the date could not hide the fact that he had a lean, chiselled body. His eyes met hers. She felt like lowering her gaze but didn’t. She didn’t want him to think she was old-fashioned.

You suppose right, she wondered quietly if their conversation would come to a sudden end. It was possible that after they had spoken to each other for a while, they would run out of topics. Silence would ensue. Their friendship, if it could be called that, would slowly but surely finish.

If you say so. There is one thing though. I like the fact that you consider me attractive. I willingly accept that I find you gorgeous. But I will say this. This sort of thing is so abstract, isn’t it. Appearance, I mean, or beauty. What might seem lovely or handsome to someone, might appear ugly or unpleasant to someone else. In my case, this is true. I am ordinary at best and will appear as such to most people or should I say women, girls rather. You, on the other hand, will be drooled over by every man in the world. Short of admirers you never will be. That scares me somewhat. I no doubt have to compete with many. Just the other day, that thin, effeminate man was asking your hand in marriage. I was glad to hear you say no to him, I really was, Om was looking a bit insecure. Or maybe it was just an act. Mere flannel perhaps. Just to make her feel beautiful. She did not quite know.

I might have rejected him but a sissy he certainly was not. You are simply jealous, that’s all. And what, pray, is so bad about being girlish. It would be good for all men to be in touch with their feminine side now and again, Anita spoke with utter composure. Her feathers had not been ruffled. One thing she could be sure about though, Om had been watching her every move. Watching which guy made a move. He did seem pretty interested in her. She felt satisfied, almost smug.

I get your drift. I will say however that I simply abhor competition. If there’s too much of it, I’ll look elsewhere perhaps. I don’t want to wait eternally standing in your queue of admirers, Om shrugged. He did look a little unsure of himself but she couldn’t help thinking it was a pretence. She looked at the lovely sunset. Om’s words had cheered her up even though she felt they were not sincere.

You’re a little possessive, I like that, she uttered the words softly. She looked at his broad jaw and his thick eyebrows. He had raised the left one a little though what that was meant to depict, she did not quite know. Ridicule, perhaps.

You certainly are odd, Om muttered so softly she had to strain her ears to be able to hear him. He was looking somewhat startled as if he hadn’t quite expected her to say what she had. It wasn’t as if she had said something earth-shattering. She had merely voiced her thoughts, she was sure lots of girls shared them.

In lots of ways, I probably am but not in this respect. What I’m getting at is this. If your boyfriend is not the least bit proprietorial or overprotective when he sees you talk to a guy, he probably doesn’t love you, not really. A bit of a clingy attitude does show that the man cares about you. Is serious, more or less. I don’t mean to say I like the extreme side of acquisitive behaviour. Just a smidgeon of it, however is rather reassuring. That’s all I’m saying. I’m sure most girls feel precisely that way, Anita quietly wondered if Om would soon tire of the sheer baloney she spoke. Maybe she should have pretended to be a shy, timid girl instead of the vocal person she actually was. But where would that lead. Sooner or later he would become aware that she was extremely talkative. One could not hide one’s true nature forever. And maybe there was no need to.

If you say so. I make it my policy not to argue with enchanting girls, Om spoke in a tender manner. Blandishments. Fawning. She didn’t really mind. It was making her slightly uncomfortable but that was alright. It was only to be expected. The man appeared keen to make her his girlfriend and she wasn’t grumbling inwardly.

How many have there been. You did say girls, Anita smiled gently to manifest the fact that she was merely teasing him. He bowed his head for a moment. He looked up and gave her an indulgent smile. His raw masculinity appealed to her. She appreciated the fact that most probably, he was being exactly who he was without any attempt at a facade of any sort.

If the so-called rule you mentioned applies to men also, then I suppose I should be happy to see a shadow of the green-eyed monster in you. A touch of covetous behaviour is to be cherished according to you. So I will, Om, like her, was no doubt wondering what to say. He rubbed his face with his hands and lowered his gaze. Soon they would no doubt run out of things to say to one another. That would be a shame.

I know I said your looks drew me to you. To a certain extent they did. But I think it was the whole package really. The way you talk, the way you walk, the way you smile. Your serious expression when you are thinking of something is rather interesting. But as far as your looks are concerned, it was mainly your intense eyes that had the maximum effect on me. Is that piercing gaze of yours some kind of trick to lure girls. I don’t quite know. Maybe it is, Anita said the last words in a piqued manner. He appeared flummoxed at her irate tone. She had said the words in a half-serious, half-joking way but the rattled fashion in which she had uttered them seemed to suggest otherwise. Now that she thought about it, maybe he did look at all and sundry in the same way.

Contrary to what you might think, I don’t go out with a mental trap to catch girls. My intense gaze as you describe it, does not, I’m sure rest on every girl. What other girls no doubt receive is merely a passing glance. That’s all, Om did not look happy in the least. She had, in a manner of speaking, accused him of being a flirt and he