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Heraised his eyebrows and assumed an expression that suggested he was impressed with himself. ‘Actually,Iplay the ukulele.’
Thatstopped her in her tracks. ‘You’rekidding me.Really?’
‘Ilove it.Igo for lessons and everything.’
‘Butyou’re so big and ukuleles are so…tiny.’
Hesmiled at the way she quirked her head to the side as though trying to picture him strumming away. ‘Well, it seems to work.I’llbring one of my ukes in tomorrow and show you.’
‘I’llbe counting the seconds,’ she said with her characteristic sarcasm before returning to her screen.
Anhour later,Francescawas about to ask ifKrishwanted another cup of tea when his phone rang.Sheglanced at her watch, already knowing that it would be exactly 11:30:Jesso’clock.Everyday, she stole five minutes to callKrishwhile her class ate lunch.Every.Single.Day.Shewould call again at 3:45.Francescathought teachers were supposed to be overworked and time-poor.Apparently, not this one.
Jess’sfrightening efficiency was another thing that set them apart.Francescaexisted in chaos.Krishdidn’t need that in his life.
Shewas about to go put the kettle on whenKrishspoke. ‘ThisisKrishKapadia,’ he said, his tone business-like and efficient.Notthe soft, low voice that he used on the phone toJess. ‘Yes…..mm-hmmm….oh,I’msorry to hear that….are we available?It’sshort notice…just a moment.Ineed to check the diary.’
Shewatched asKrishsat back and revolved back and forth in his chair for a few seconds.
What?Francescamouthed at him.
Bigjob!Huge!Krishmouthed back, followed by a wide smile.Hewiped it off his face as quickly as it had come, as though the person on the other end of the line could see him. ‘Yes, we’re available on that date.BlenheimPalace, did you say?…Two-day event?…Yes, of course,Ican do both photography and video.Nota problem.’Helooked atFrancescaand widened his eyes with intent. ‘Yes,I’llreply to your email with directions to my office and we can meet in person to discuss…Sundayat 11:00?That’sfine.Seeyou then.’
Hehung up and sat still for a moment, before exploding upwards to punch the air. ‘Yessssss!’
‘Whatis it?What’sthe job?’
Pushinghis chair out of the way, he leaned over his computer and brought up an emptyGooglepage.Hetyped something into the search bar and laughed when the screen filled with hits. ‘Iknew it!’
‘What?Krish, tell me!Thesuspense is killing me.’
Hemoved aside so she could see his computer.Thename he’d typed in the bar read ‘ParamjeetOberoi’.
Shestudied the image of a handsomeIndianman, pictured with various women and/or fast cars. ‘Oberoi…’ she said. ‘He’snot related toVashneyOberoi, is he?’
VashneyOberoiwas a hugeHindifilm director, one of the biggest inBollywood.Theplot in the lastOberoifilm she’d seen involved a cop whoseGoldenRetrievercould sniff out criminals, but only if they had big boobs and perfect pouts.Romanceand antics ensued, as well as a lot of dancing, including a number involving only dogs.Asidefrom being wildly impressed,Francescahad been wasted by the midpoint thanks to all the amazing over-acting, ridiculous scenarios, and big choreographed numbers.Itepitomised everything she loved aboutBollywoodfilms.
Fora moment,Krish’seyebrows dipped and he squinted at her. ‘Youknow whoVashneyOberoiis?’
Sherealised her mistake and decided to go the blasé route. ‘Doesn’teverybody?’
Heshook his head, moving on. ‘Nevermind.Justplease pleasepleasetell me that you’re available in four weekends’ time.’
Hershoulder brushed his and her skin tingled.Sheshuffled away from him at the same time as he shot up to his full height. ‘It’sshort notice,’ she said, repeating whatKrishhad said on the phone. ‘Whathappened?’
‘Theiroriginal company can’t do it.Theydouble-booked themselves.’
‘Andthey chose the other wedding over this one?Doesn’tthat make you nervous?’
Helaughed. ‘Thereis nothingIhaven’t seen at a wedding after shooting withConnorfor five years.Canyou please check your diary?’
Sheturned towards the wall where she had blue-tacked her kitten calendar and turned toAugust.Thedate was empty.Butshe was purposefully taking on less work as she eased towards the end of wedding season, so that she could finish all her editing byOctoberbefore her operation. ‘I’mavailable.Buttell me about the job first,’ she asked suspiciously.
‘Youhaveto do this job with me.Nobodygood will have the date free at this late notice.’
Francescacrossed her arms. ‘Gee, thanks.’
‘Sorry,Ididn’t mean it like that.Imean…Idon’t trust anybody else to do as good a job as you.Ialready know your work.’
