‘Jesus,’ I say, laughing, ‘that’s rude.’

‘Please, Miss G, it’s not rude. I’m honest. I’m paying top dollar here. I’m not at the fucking Udipi Mathsya hotel.’

‘Hygiene is super-important for Praveen,’ Rohini says.

‘Yeah, man, people in Madras don’t have the concept of deodorant. It’s a minefield out there. You got to be careful.’

‘Want to get out of here?’ Vik asks. A month ago I would have said hell yes. He would have taken me to one of his underground places. We would have leaned against enamel or wall, hands working quickly to unfasten buttons and flies, but now I want to keep his body at a distance from mine.

At one in the morning Rohini complains she’s drunk and wants to go home. We signal for the bill. A man and woman saunter in. He’s dressed all in black – shirt strained over stomach, legs like pencils, feet stuffed into old-fashioned leather moccasins. The girl is blobby in all the right bits. Teetering on heels, thrusting her chest out and pointing to the table she wants.

‘Sheesh,’ Praveen says. ‘You have to wonder about these girls. Wearing runway clothes but going mewh mewh.’

‘What’s that? What’s that fucking sound, mewh mewh?’

‘Their personalities are so meek. They’re servants, all of them.’

‘They come from small towns,’ Rohini says. ‘That’s what he means. Have you seen that Prashant’s wife? She’s like bus-conductor material.’

‘I sure am glad you guys are my friends,’ I say.

Praveen laughs. ‘You’re one demented bitch. That’s why we love you.’

It becomes harder and harder to return to the beach. I set off Monday morning, hung-over, stop at the supermarket for supplies, mindlessly reach for bottles of pasta sauce, bags of rice, dog treats. There’s always the feel of dirt after these weekends. I walk up and down the narrow aisles, pushing the trolley, dragging my slippers. The women at the cash register chatter like sewing machines and I wonder how they sustain such robust conversations. What do they find to speak about all day? The one who serves me has a face dented with acne. She coughs over my vegetables and then extends her hand for my credit card.