Page 79 of A Thousand Painted Hours

Elsie

PS: The book made me remember that ridiculous picnic Nina staged on the beach, complete with curry sandwiches. (!) Now I’ve made myself laugh. It was absolutely terrible, and do you know, I am quite certain she does not realize it to this day.

A Picnic in Brighton

June 1914

—40—

Nina loved a picnic. On Saturday, she arranged for all of us to go to the beach at Brighton. The whole house party was transported by car and carriage five miles down the road to the beach. She’d ordered an extravagant tent erected, with flags flying above it, in honor of a royal’s tent, and a Moroccan rug covered the sand. Chairs within were arranged with draperies of patterned silk. The whole was policed by a pair of grim servants in vaguely military uniforms and turbans unlike any I’d ever seen before. They kept onlookers moving with beetle-browed shakes of the head.

I rode with Tanveer and Rocky and his beau Grayson, all of us a little drunk on sunshine after the storm. As we climbed out of the car, Tanveer remarked, “Extravagant, isn’t it?”

“Well there are no elephants, but I suppose the tent is a little much.”

He had the grace to tilt his head with a faint smile. “Touché.”

“Do you ride on elephants, Prince?” Grayson asked, tossing his hair from his face.

“I have,” he said. “More often I use a motorcar.”

“Do you have motorcars in India these days?” He bent his head into the wind to light a cigarette. “I’ve never been there, mind. But my imagination is filled with the things you hear.”

“I’m sure they’re all entirely accurate.”

“My father was there when he was young, though, of course, he was sent back at six, to avoid the language issues and so forth.”

“Language issues?” Tanveer asked calmly. “Like mine? Like Elsie’s?”

“Oh, no, man. You speak the King’s English. It’s remarkable, really.” Grayson winked my way. “Elsie, on the other hand ...”

“Mmm.” Tanveer gestured to me. “Shall we see what lies within?”

I realized I’d been holding my breath. “Yes.”

We ducked into the cool of the tent. More servants manned the feast laid out on the table—little crabs and iced cakes, cold venison pasty, chicken sandwiches with yellow curry powder, an aspic already speckled with sand. The servants had plumes of peacock feathers in their hats. I glanced at Tanveer and pulled my lips into my mouth to avoid commenting.

Nina swirled over. “There you are! What do you think? Have I got some of it right?”

“It’s lovely,” Tanveer said. I glanced at him, and could read nothing. “I shall enjoy every morsel.”

“I did ask if there were things you mightn’t be able to eat, so I hope it’s all delicious.”

“It will be wonderful. Thank you, Nina. It will be a day to remember.”

Rocky joined us. “Grayson’s an ignorant bastard, but he means nothing by it.”

Tanveer inclined his head, in acceptance or rejection, it was unclear.

I filled a plate with little cakes and fruit and sandwiches, and we carried them to a round table with several chairs. As we sat down, Peter approached. “Do you mind if I join you?”

“Certainly not.” I gestured toward an empty place.

The weather was stellar, hot and sunny. We all swam and ate tiny crabs and fresh bread with sweet butter. The others drank, but Tanveer never drank alcohol, and so I didn’t, either. Late in the afternoon, we lounged on chairs beneath big umbrellas and watched the waves roll in.

“I’m enchanted by the sea,” I said, one knee propped up.

“What do you like about it?” Tanveer asked. He let his foot fall sideways into the top of mine. I wiggled my toes to acknowledge him.