Bit of a filler. Elizabeth focused because this is her story, but papa Jhaveri shows up again :)
London. It had been Elizabeth's home for years. Her father had lived here ever since he left India for medical school abroad, all those years ago. She had deep roots there, but after spending almost a month in Portwenn, coming back was going to be quite the culture shock.
It was Thursday, with the psychiatry conference due to begin on Saturday. Elizabeth had flown out early, comfortably seated in business class, a book on her lap for the majority of the hour and ten minutes it took to fly to the city. She'd barely read more than a page, though: the twinkling lights of the big city as they got close to landing was too distracting.
She couldn't wait to see her father. She wouldn't see him until the next day, but she was still excited. Staying in the family home wasn't strange to her: in her father's culture, staying at home with family wasn't unusual. Sucking on a raspberry boiled sweet as the plane began to land, in order to try and stop her ears popping, and biting her lip a little to try curb her excitement. It didn't do much good.
Once she'd gotten past security: easy, with only hand luggage: Elizabeth headed on outside. People were mulling around in throngs, not even speaking to one another, or giving her a second look. This was worlds away from Portwenn. Raising an arm as an empty black cab rolled past her- it screeched to a halt, backing up towards the curb for her.
"Good evening. Phillimore Gardens, Kensington, please."
London whizzed past the windows as they drove, a metropolitan whirlwind. tall buildings, highly dense traffic. She was invisible, anonymous: everyone who saw her in Portwenn knew who she was, what she did for a job, where her family was from. The change was so drastic.
Eventually, though, the busy city began to fade away, as the cab pulled into the royal borough. Kensington and Chelsea: this area had been her home for so long. They navigated the streets of the Phillimore estate carefully: the cab looked rather out of place in such an area. These streets practically radiated money, the houses a pale white, stretching on up to the sky, with well manicured gardens, and luxurious cars parked outside. Small streets, but not much of a community: socialising wasn't something that happened in this area.
"Thirty seven pounds fifty, please."
"Keep the change."
"Thankyou, ma'am-"
Elizabeth had handed over a fifty, barely blinking as she got out of the car. Slinging her bag over her shoulder, her attention fixed mostly on her house. Heart sinking a little when she didn't see her father's car, but, he'd return soon.
The Jhaveri house was, for lack of a better word, impressive. Three stories, painted an elegant white, with Victorian style window, and a neat square roof. Fronted by a security gate, which Elizabeth went to, pressing the code in to get it to open. Boots clicking against the stone steps, smilimg at the two stone lions resting at the top of them. Elizabeth paused by the front door, unlocking it, before pushing the double doors open.
Two doors to the left led to a small bathroom, and a large, expansive dining hall. One door down the hallway led to a small elevator, a set of elegant spiral staircases to her right. One staircase went to a lower ground floor, the other up to floors one, two, and three. The ceilings were high, decorated with marble sculpting, floors hardwood, and shining, thanks to the housekeeper her father employed. Dropping her coat over the back of a chair on the entrance hall, before crossing through to the kitchen.
'Dear Lizzie
At work until late, left this for you.
Get some sleep, welcome home.
Papa xx'
The note was attached to quite an impressive plate of sandwiches, and her stomach growled with hunger. Removing a bottle of grapefruit juice from the fridge, a box of pineapple chunks, and carrying the three towards the staircase.
"Oh, I didn't miss you." The lift wasn't her favourite, but the stairs took fforever. Marble, with carpeting running along the middle of them, so at least she didn't slip. First floor, her father's area. The master suite was empty, ever since her mother died, and he'd taken the second bedroom instead. It gave her a pang, but he continued up to the second floor, and finally, the third.
With the benefit of hindsight, she could see that choosing to live at the very top of the house wasn't the easiest choice,oin the long run. It had originally housed two bedrooms, and two bathrooms, but Jamal had been generous enough to convert the smaller room into a study space, with enough space for her bathroom, and walk in wardrobe, too.
Teenage Lizzie had always been up here, reveling in the freedom of having the floor to herself, and doing as she liked. It was strange being back here.
She could fit her cottage back in Cornwall five times over in this house. She could buy the cottage a hundred times, and come nowhere near to the price her father had paid for this place. The difference was disorienting.
Pushing open her door with her hip, taking a moment to survey her room. Expansive, with a king sized bed, and Victorian windows that would normally let the light in, but wouldn't until morning. The lower floors had doors leading onto balconies, but not up here.
Her feet sank into the soft grey carpet, placing the plate of food on her table, and it was with a happy sigh that she fell back on her bed. Fingertips running over the blanket: white cashmere, so soft it sent a shiver through her.
Why was coming here so strange? she didn't know. Elizabeth had been told several times that she looked rather out of place in Portwenn, which she had accepted. But, she'd eventually fit in. She'd also fit in here. Coming back though, to an empty house without her family, she found herself really missing that little village.
Rolling herself up in the cashmere, eyes closing as she did so. She would close her eyes, just for a minute..
"Lizzie! Wake up."
That was a bizarre wakeup call. Elizabeth was used to Radio Portwenn, and the seagulls by now: her father's voice from outside the door startled her. Half hanging off her bed, still dressed, wrapped in an expensive blanket: oh. She was home.
"Hi, papa." Once changed, and presentable, she opened the doors, instantly finding herself in a tight hug. To her great surprise, Jamal wasn't alone. A slightly wizened lady at his right, with dyed black hair scraped into a bun, and deep wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, but a warm smile on her lips. A man was on the other side: bent a little at the shoulders, face a little wrinkled, but filled with delight at seeing Elizabeth. He was clad in a grey suit, and his wife in a colourful blue sari.
"Dadi. Dada."
"Hello, beti."
A group hug had her absolutely grinning in delight, surrounded by her last remaining close relatives, and feeling, finally, like she fit in again.
It turned out that her grandparents had come to visit Jamal, and were staying for a month to allow themselves to recover from a long flight. Nine hours was a lot at their age: her grandmother would always deny people her age, but Elizabeth knew her grandfather, at least, to be closing in on his late eighties. Still a picture of health, and reputed as one of the best neurosurgeons in his country.
Both grandparenrs had worked tirelessly throughout their lives, as had Jamal, and now, here they were. In the kitchen together, while Elizabeth attempted to help her grandmother with cooking breakfast.
"No, beti, no touch- say hello to your grandfather-"
"Oh, I've missed you."
Shooed away from the stove, Elizabeth went to take her grandpa's hands, smiling as he squeezed them. Reyan Jhaveri was the image of her father, but older, his dark eyes sparkling with love.
"You are pale."
"Well, I don't deliberately try to tan."
Jamal's shoulders were shaking with silent laughter as his father examined her, with all the worry that he himself did. Reyan tipped her head, looking into her eyes, before feeling her glands on her neck.
"Grandpa, I'm almost twenty eight."
"Really? I've been practicing medicine for twice that time."
"Leave her alone."
Narila Jhaveri scolded her husband, setting plates on the table. Despite the scolding, he rushed to pull her chair out for her, her squeezing his arm in gratitude as he did so. Such a long, loving marriage.. Elizabeth aspired to that.
"I am on eye drops, the sea air hates me."
"Always did. Beach trips as a child, you would hate the water," Jamal contributed, pouring his mother, and father chai, before giving his daughter a cup.
"I would like to see Portwenn," Reyan added, gaze fixed curiously on his granddaughter. He didn't know why she stayed there: the connection to her mother was nice, but why? London was wonderful, as was Mumbai. A tiny fishing village didn't sound like much fun to him.
"You would love it. And guess what? I saw Samuel. We went for dinner."
The effect of those words was instantaneous. Both men went wide eyed at the possibility of her finally going on a date, her grandmother clutching her hands, delighted.
"A good Indian boy, yes, better than that Rahul-"
"Half Indian. Like me. I missed him so much, I didn't realise that until we met up."
"He is a nice boy. I want great grandchildren."
And that comment nearly made Elizabeth spit out her drink. It was a first date, she wasn't about to have children with him. Marriage could wait, even if her grandma was likely about to call up her distant relatives to inform them of this exciting new development.
Taking a spoonful of food, while her father did his best not to laugh, but, decided to st her the conversation away from boys. Just to help her.
"Are you presenting that paper with Ruth tomorrow?"
"Yes."
"We'll come, of course."
Their support meant so much to her, truly. Reaching to squeeze his hand, smiling warmly. Now, she felt at home. Her family was so important to her.
Again, sorry for this slow filler update. I loved updating every day, but have two fanfics, college starts next week and I was getting quite stressed over trying to write two chapters a day! I'll try to post regularly. Please review. :)