It seemed the fever had passed.
But, on Monday morning he said he was too sick to go back to school,
“No you’re not,” I say. “You are fine.”
“I’m not fine, I’m still sick,” he moans. “Only a monster would send me back to school”
“Then you will just have to come to London with me”
I load him into the car. On top of him I load the bags, his sister, her tutor, and finally my mother, who can’t be loaded as easily, her 86 year old hips keep sliding off the high Land Rover leather seat as she tries to get in. I give the hips a big push and slam the door shut, hoping for the best.
Conrad begins to make a remarkable recovery the further away from school we drive. “Domino” he says “Did you know we are all related to trees?” Domino hesitates for a moment “Of course I know that” she says. “And…” says Conrad “we are all related to Jesus Christ” This silences his sister. It silences me.
I am staying with friends, Peter and Sebastian, I’m not sure how often they have children to stay, especially sick ones. “I’m so sorry,” I say when we arrive. “I had no where to leave them. David’s still in the Bahamas”
Between Monday and Tuesday I have to get my passport renewed, place orders for my shop, join several conference calls, speak at the V&A museum, do a book signing at Ralph Lauren and now get Conrad to a doctor to see if he’s faking or not.
“We have the American ambassador coming for dinner, join us after your book signing,” invite Peter and Sebastian.
By the time I find my way back their house, on Tuesday evening, it’s quite a few glasses of champagne later. I punch in the code on the gate but it doesn’t seem to work. I do it again, still nothing. I then spot three security cars with engines running and remember the Ambassador is inside, I assume the code has been deactivated for the evening, for safety reasons. I ring the bell instead, still nothing, I ring again and finally imagining they can’t hear me I keep my finger on the buzzer. BUZZZ. BUZZZZ. BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.
The door opens, I peer through the outer gates, a man in his boxer shorts peers back “Yes?” he says.
“Hello” I say “It’s me, can you let me in?”
“Who?” he asks.
“Me, India, your house guest, let me in.”
“I think you want the house next door” says the man in his boxer shorts before shutting his front door.