Jeffrey Archer - Cometh the Hour

“I was spellbound,” he said, looking directly at her. “And I enjoyed Margot Fonteyn’s performance as well.”

Priya laughed. “My father first took me to the ballet when I was seven years old. Like all little girls, I left the theatre wanting to be one of the four cygnets, and it’s been an unbroken love affair ever since.”

“I had the same feeling when my father first took me to Stratford to see Paul Robeson in Othello, ” Seb said as a lamb chop was placed in front of him.

“How fortunate you are.” Seb looked puzzled. “You’ll now be able to see all the great ballets for the first time. Mind you, starting with Fonteyn won’t make it easy for those who follow her.”

“My father once told me,” said Seb, “that he wished he’d never read a word of Shakespeare until he was thirty. Then he could have seen all thirty-seven plays without knowing the endings. I now realize exactly what he meant.”

“I just don’t get to the theatre enough.”

“I did invite you to The Merchant of Venice, but—”

“I had something on that night. But I can now get out of it, so I’d love to go with you. Assuming you haven’t offered the ticket to someone else.”

“I’m sorry, but two of my friends were desperate to see Olivier, so...”

“I understand,” said Priya.

“But I turned them down.”

“Why?”

“They both have hairy legs.”

Priya burst out laughing.

“I know you—”

“Where do you—”

“No, you first,” said Priya.

“I just have so many questions I want to ask you.”

“Me too.”

“I know you went to St. Paul’s and then Girton, but why banking?”

“I’ve always been fascinated by figures and the patterns they create, especially when you have to explain their significance to men, who so often are only interested in a short-term gain.”

“Like me, perhaps?”

“I hope not, Seb.”

It could have been Samantha speaking. He wouldn’t make the same mistake a second time. “How long have you been with Hambros?”

“Just over three years.”

“So you must be thinking about your next move?”

“So like a man,” said Priya. “No, I’m very happy where I am, although I do get depressed when inadequate men are promoted to positions above their actual ability. I wish banking was like the ballet. If it was, Margot Fonteyn would be governor of the Bank of England.”

“I don’t think Sir Leslie O’Brien would make a very good black swan,” said Seb as the three-minute bell rang. He quickly drained his glass of wine.

Priya was right, because Seb couldn’t take his eyes off the black swan, who mesmerized the entire audience with her brilliance, and when the curtain fell at the end of act three, he was desperate to find out what would happen in the final act.

“Don’t tell me, don’t tell me,” he said as they returned to their table.

“I won’t,” said Priya. “But savor the moment, because sadly you can only have this unique experience once.”

“Perhaps you’ll have the same experience when I take you to The Merchant of Venice .”

“How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank!

Here will we sit and let the sounds of music

Creep in our ears. Soft stillness and the night

Become the touches of sweet harmony.

Sit, Jessica, look how—”

Sebastian bowed his head.

“I’m so sorry,” said Priya. “What did I say?”

“Nothing, nothing. You just reminded me of something.”

“Or someone?”

Seb was rescued by the P.A. “Ladies and gentlemen, would you please take your seats, the final act is about to begin.”

The final act was so moving, and Fonteyn so captivating, that when Seb turned to see if it was having the same effect on Priya, he thought he saw a tear trickling down her cheek. He took her hand.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “I’m making a fool of myself.”

“That wouldn’t be possible.”

When the curtain finally fell, Seb joined in the ten-minute standing ovation, and Margot Fonteyn received so many curtain calls and bouquets she could have opened a flower shop. As they left the auditorium, he took Priya’s hand as they strolled back to the restaurant, but she seemed nervous and didn’t speak. Once coffee had been served, Priya said, “Thank you for a wonderful evening. Being with you was like seeing Swan Lake for the first time. I haven’t enjoyed a performance so much in a long time.” She hesitated.

“But something is worrying you.”

“I’m a Hindu.”

Seb burst out laughing. “And I’m a Somerset yokel, but it’s never worried me.”

She didn’t laugh. “I don’t think I can come to the theatre with you, Seb.”

“But why not?”

“I’m frightened of what might happen if we see each other again.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I told you my father had to return to India.”

“Yes, I assumed on business.”

“Of a kind. My mother has spent the past few months selecting the man I will be expected to marry, and I think she’s made her final choice.”

“No,” said Seb, “that can’t be possible.”

“All that’s needed now is my father’s approval.”

“You have no choice, no say in the matter?”

“None. You have to understand, Seb, it’s part of our tradition, our heritage and our religious beliefs.”

“But what if you were to fall in love with someone else?”

“I would still have to honor my parents’ wishes.” Seb leaned across the table to take her hand, but she quickly withdrew it. “I will never forget the night I saw Swan Lake with you, Seb. I will cherish the memory for the rest of my life.”

“And so will I, but surely...” But when he looked up, like the black swan, she had disappeared.

“So how did last night go?” asked Jenny, as she placed two eggs in a saucepan of warm water.

“It couldn’t have been much worse,” Priya replied. “Didn’t work out at all as I’d planned.”

Jenny turned around to see her friend on the verge of tears. She rushed across, sat down beside her and put an arm around her shoulder. “That bad?”

“Worse. I liked him even more the second time. And I blame you.”

“Why me?”

“Because if you’d agreed to come to the ballet with me, none of this would have happened.”

“But that’s good.”

“No, it’s awful. At the end of the evening I walked out on him, after telling him I never wanted to see him again.”

“What did he do to make you so angry?”

“He made me fall in love with him, which wasn’t what I intended.”

“But that’s fantastic, if he feels the same way.”

“But it can only end in disaster when our parents—”

“I’m pretty sure Seb’s parents will welcome you as a member of their family. Everything I’ve ever read about them suggests they’re extremely civilized.”

“It’s not his parents I’m worried about, it’s mine. They just wouldn’t consider Sebastian a suitable—”

“We’re living in the modern world, Priya. Mixed-race marriage is becoming quite the thing. You should take your parents to see Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner .”

“Jenny, a black man wanting to marry a white woman in 1960s America is nothing compared to a Hindu falling in love with a Christian, believe me. Did you notice in that film, they never once discussed religion, only the color of his skin? I realize it’s not unknown for an Indian to marry someone of a different race, especially if they’re both Christians. But it’s not something a Hindu would ever consider. If only I hadn’t gone to that cricket match.”