“Oh, hello there, Kavita,” Mrs. Stone says, at last. “Terribly sorry, dear. I didn’t see you there. Quiet as a mouse, you are. My, you look thin.” A pause while Kavita is swept from ankle to crown. “Nani always liked you, you know. I think she approved of you more than she approved of George, really. Thought Nirav was going back to the culture when he married you or some such. Oh, don’t look at me like that, George!”

Mr. Stone flashes his wife a stern look, nudges his way through the door, and marches across the foyer into the house. Maya follows close behind him, her face pinched, and her nose slightly lifted. “You would think it was their mother who died,” Mrs. Stone sighs. “Well now, don’t stand out in the drizzle. Come in, come in.”

They crowd into the foyer. Shoes are scattered here and there. Coats are piled onto hooks and the end of the banister.

Mrs. Stone wraps an arm around Nirav’s shoulder and leads him into the house. “Now,” she continues, “the men are in the back room. Niru, go and say hello. Kavita, come with me and sit with the ladies,” motioning to the front room.

Kavita peers inside. She recognizes a few of the aunties seated on the floral sofa, sombre in their saris, talking in hushed voices, but most of the other women gathered in the sitting room she doesn’t know. One of the unknown women looks over at Kavita with a cool beam of judgement as only an older Indian woman can give a younger. Kavita instantly feels self-conscious and inappropriate in her faded cords and jean jacket. She wishes she’d had some traditional clothes to wear, but all of her Indian outfits were too offensively cheerful to pack. “Is it all right if I join you in a bit?” she asks Mrs. Stone. “I’d like to keep Nirav company for now.”

“Fine, fine,” Mrs. Stone says. “But don’t be too long, dear. We mustn’t be rude in front of company.” She gives Nirav one last kiss on the cheek, then disappears into the front room.

Kavita finally tunes in to the low murmurs of the house. She follows Nirav to the back room and stands in the doorway. The men are seated in a circle, spread out among the black leather sectional, club chairs, and a few kitchen chairs.

Mr. Stone is seated at one end of the couch, grim-faced, as he swigs scotch. Beside him are Nirav’s three uncles, Dilip, Rajesh, and Sanjay. Tall and bald, Dilip mama, the second eldest, helps with the shop. Tall and round, Rajesh mama, the third eldest, runs a chippy. Tall and slim, Sanjay mama, the baby of the family, works as a clerk at NatWest. The other men Kavita hasn’t met.