CHAPTER SIX
A male servant welcomed Sonia to Aberleigh and ushered her into a brightly-lit room abuzz with the animated chatter of people drinking as they mingled. Sonia looked for Carl but couldn't see him. Everyone was dressed in fine clothes and seemed completely at ease on the grandiose setting; enormous chandeliers hung from the ceilings and festive swathes of holly and ivy decorated the large bay windows. Waitresses in frilly white caps and starched aprons wove through the room, balancing silver trays on their fingertips. One stopped to offer Sonia a canapé, which she accepted with a glass of wine and made as if to mingle, peering at flower arrangements or gazing at paintings until, to her relief, Carl appeared. She hugged him in greeting, which surprised him. "Come meet my family", he said.
First, he Introduced her to his grandfather who had difficulty hearing but spoke at length about India, and when Carl was able to make him understand that Sonia came from Nigeria, his eye lit up as he launched into a series of stories about Lord Lugard and their family ties. Carl kept muttering apologies for his grandfather's unabashed support of the British, but Sonia didn't judge the old man for his colonial fervour. He was simply a man of his times and it was clear to Sonia that he was generous at heart. They moved on to talk to Carl's mother, whom Sonia found charming and strikingly beautiful, too. She chatted to Sonia at length about Nigeria, saying how much she missed the country and its people, and wanted to know how she found England. If the evening had ended there, it might have been a perfect day for Sonia, but meeting Carl's father was definitely less than enchanting. It didn't help that one of his South African friends mistook Sonia for a servant.
The meeting with Carl's best friend also seemed odd. Carl had described Nicholas as shy, but Sonia had the strangest feeling that he was deliberately flirting with her whenever Carl wasn't around. But perhaps she was only imagining it. Sometimes people could be socially awkward, she reasoned. At any rate, Sonia was glad when the party was over. Carl had told her beforehand that she could spend the night at his grandparents' home and all evening she had been dreading sharing with one of the South Africans . As it turned out, she need not have worried. The house was big enough for her to have a room of her own. The room was large with beautiful antique furniture but no fireplace so Sonia was thankful for the wollens she had brought along to wear beneath her pyjamas. The cotton pyjamas was hardly appropriate for winter, but her mother had sewn them and treasured them, even though their green and white stripes had faded to lime-grey. She also wore two lambswool cardigans, an extra pair of socks, some gloves, and her Balliol scarf. She did a few jumping jacks to get warm and then sat down with the intention of writing to her mother. She stared at the paper in front of her, knowing exactly what her mother would like to hear, but delayed while her mind wandered back to thoughts of Carl. At least his mother seemed to like her, so that was a good sign. She had loved the thorn carvings and sherry Sonia had brought as gifts, making room to display them on one of the tables. "Isn't she delightful?" She overheard her saying to her husband, who of course would not have thought the same. "In which case", Sonia muttered aloud, "I had better stop thinking about her son".
She stood up and, still feeling cold, took the blanket from her bed and wrapped it tightly around her shoulders. She removed a glove and wrote the date, remembering that this time last year she had been with Richard. She had not spoken to him for several weeks but knew that he and Whitney would be spending the holiday together.
Dear Mother,
I am writing this letter to you from Aberleigh, the family house of a fellow student. I've learnt that it is a custom here for country houses to be given names.
Sonia paused, considering what to say next. The word 'fellow student' made Carl sound distant, but she knew mother might still question it. The fact that her daughter had not written for several weeks, plus the sudden mention of a man was likely to signal something - even though, for the moment at least, the relationship had been quite innocent. They had seen each other several times over the holidays but all that had taken place was friendly teasing and the normal flirting. However, if Sonia were being honest with herself, there was something more. The fact, for example, that he had been on her mind for much of the night and that she had cared about what his family thought of her must mean something. She was pleased, also, that his friends were not there. She was about to write something else when she heard a knock on her door.
"One moment please," Sonia called, jumping up as she pushed the blanket off her shoulders, throwing it back on the bed. She glanced at her watch. Midnight. Quickly, she removed her scarf and tugged at her gloves, wondering what to do with the rest of her layers, when the knocking resumed.
"Sonia it's me," came the whisper.
She opened the door a crack. "Oh Carl, I'm sorry. I didn't know it was you and …"
She opened the door wider, wondering if she ought to ask him to wait while she changed, but what would she change into? She had no decent pyjamas, not even a dressing gown, which made her realise why she ought to have heeded the British Council's advice on clothes to buy for England.
"Can I come in?" He whispered again, pushing his face closer.
"Yes, yes of course. Come in", she stammered, feeling foolish for keeping him waiting. They now stood awkwardly for a moment in the middle of the room while she thought of excusing herself.
"I hope you weren't too disappointed".
"Disappointed?"
"Well it's just that my father, especially when he's with his friends, can be dreadful."
"Don't worry". She smiled. "But come. Please sit". She pointed hesitantly to her bed, which somehow didn't quite seem the decent thing to do, but it was the only place to sit apart from the chair cluttered with her things. "Please, sit." She straightened the blanket. "If you'll excuse me, I'll just change into something more appropriate".
"I must look ridiculous," Carl said.
"You look perfectly handsome, as always Carl". Sonia said, abandoning all thoughts of a change now.
"And you, Sonia, look like a lady of the night".
"A what?"
"No, I'm just being silly," he said, laughing. "Please stay." He sat on her bed and moved the chair from the desk, placing it near the bed.
"Seriously, though, you look lovely tonight, Sonia. I mean, you always look lovely but tonight even more lovely if that's possible".
"Oh, Carl, stop!"
"So," she said
"So," he answered. "I'm just embarrassed by my father."
"We all get embarrassed by our parents; it's normal," Sonia said. "Besides, if I were your father I think I would be wary of any young woman near my son, too!"
"Well, I'm sure your parents are wonderful," Carl replied. "Will you tell me about them?"
He wanted to know more about her mother and so she told him what she thought he would find interesting about her profession.
"And what does she look like?"
She replied that her mother was slender and that she routinely wrapped towels around her waist to make herself look bigger, which made Carl laugh. Skinny, she had to explain, was not considered beautiful, and then she remembered being seen by Carl with a towel wrapped around her waist too, at her hostel. She reminded him, which made them both laugh. She was enjoying telling Carl about her family and found it easy to talk to him because he seemed genuinely interested in what she was saying. Even though he didn't understand everything about where she came from, he was so far removed from her culture and so intrigued by it that Sonia felt no need to embellish her childhood as she had sometimes done with Richard. She even felt comfortable enough to admit her mother was one of two wives.
"Two?" Carl repeated. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound surprised".
"No, you mustn't apologise. It's permitted and when my father became a Christian, well, he couldn't easily change his marital status".
"And did you live together in one place or in different locations? Do you mind me asking?"
She didn't mind because she liked the fact that he wanted to learn more, except that now he was looking puzzled.
"I was thinking," he explained, " That in one sense, you could argue that polygamy is not terribly different from people here in England marrying, divorcing and then remarrying, only in one situation the marriages are simultaneous and, in another, consecutive. But do you think your mum's happy? I mean, to have another wife around? Am I asking too many questions?"
"No, not at all," she smiled. "Yes, I do think my mother is happy: she's certainly very independent. In fact, you could almost say she practised a form of polyandry because she left my father for a time to be with a man. It was when I was a child and I don't know the full story, but a year or two later she returned to my father. Maybe it happened because my father decided to make the family Christian. I'm not sure".
"It's so interesting. I'd love to meet your mother one day".
"Then you will, and she's also very jovial, just like you." Sonia added.
"So, you'd like to marry someone like your mother right?. They say a man looks for someone like his mother".
"And a woman? Does she look for someone like her father?" He asked.
"I certainly won't. At least not someone as conservative as my father." All this time she had been tugging at her hair so that now most of it had fallen in loose curls onto her shoulders, and more than ever Carl wanted to touch her. She moved from her chair to the bed close to where Carl was sitting.
"I almost wish that my mother had the polyandry option that your mother had," Carl added, looking more serious.
"Why?"
"Maybe it happens in all marriages at some point, and this sounds awful, but I just think mother would be happier with someone else."
For a moment she sat, silently running her pretty fingers along the embroidered edge of the pillowcase.
"You don't have to stop", he said softly.
She sighed as though she were tired, but then patted the pillow, forcefully.
"So what suits Carl Richardson? You never told me, polygamy or monogamy?"
"I note the absence of polyandry", he remarked.
"Somehow, I don't think you'd go for that," she laughed.
"Oh, I don't know. I quite like the idea of getting other men to fix things around the house. I'm not good at that. But as for the sexual part…" He laughed. "Well no, I couldn't share my woman. I'm afraid I'd be too jealous. Monogamy, happy marriage, I think that's what I would pick. And it would have to be a woman who is gentle and loving. Someone intelligent, able to put up with me, of course, and God-fearing. What do you think?"
"God fearing or Carl fearing?"
"Now why would someone fear me?"
"I don't know. She laughed.
"But it's late and I should be going".
"Afraid?" Carl said turning to her
"That you're leaving? No. It's been lovely". She smiled.
"Lovely, he repeated, knowing that this was the moment to do something if he was going to do anything, but the fact that this was his family home and that his father was somewhere nearby made him hesitate.
He stood up and slipped his shoes on.
"Don't get too cold," she said, placing her hand lightly on his shoulder. She watched as he slipped quietly out of the room and tiptoed down the hall.