Krishnan had to look away from her before he veered onto the kerb.
“I’ve never said that,” he murmured, the words almost inaudible. “That’s just not true.”
Chapter Five
Jasmine didn’t really expect to hear from Ajay again in any extra-curricular kind of way. She resigned herself to another week of serving customers, rehearsing routines until midnight and pussyfooting around Krishnan. He seemed off with her the next day, monosyllabic and brooding, so she resolved to ignore him until he was over his mood.
The possibility that it might be jealousy behind his anger was a little floating boat of cheer on the lake of gloom. And she still might win the contest, despite no longer winning Ajay’s heart.
Krishnan was reading the Leicester Mercury in a pointedly irritated fashion when Jas took her break, heading into the little back kitchen to make a cup of tea.
“There’s a feature on the show in here,” he called.
The fact he was communicating with her surprised Jas.
“Look,” he added. “A photo of all the semi-finalists.”
She went back through to the shop and peered at the article over Krishnan’s shoulder.
“Oh, there’s a picture of me…with Ajay…oh, at Goose Fair!”
Under the subheading ‘Has Leicester Lovely Struck Lucky With Movie Star?’ was a snippet of gossip about how she had been seen with Ajay Amir at the fair the previous night, and pondering the coincidence.
“It doesn’t mention that Anjali was there too!” she exclaimed indignantly. “Why have they taken that angle?”
Krishnan shrugged. “Sells papers, doesn’t it? Bit of romance, bit of scandal.”
“I’m going to call them up and tell them I’m not involved with him in any way. What’s their number?”
“Not true, though, is it? If you lie to them, they’ll catch you out.”
“I am not seeing Ajay Amir!”
He humphed. “Not anymore, maybe.”
“The number, Krish. They need setting straight. I won’t have my chance ruined by stupid gossip.”
She picked up her phone in readiness, waiting for Krishnan to turn to the page with the contact details, but before he could do so they were distracted by a commotion from the street outside.
“What’s going on?” Krish put down the paper and headed for the door. He stepped back abruptly when it swung open in his face, the bell jangling over the shouts and cries and even screams.
Two be-suited men in heavy shades were first to enter, heralding the bright white figure of Ajay Amir, also in sunglasses and wearing pristine linen to match his dazzling teeth.
Behind him thronged a scrum of housewives and teenagers, calling out for his attention. Somewhere amidst the riot of colour and emotion, a press photographer clicked and snapped.
“What the—?” Krishnan held out his arms, looking around the shop for the answer to his question. The elderly woman and the young mother of toddlers who had been browsing the shelves shrugged back, creeping around to take a closer look at the unusual customer.
Ajay’s gaze went straight past Krishnan and lit on Jas, who stood motionless, hand over her mouth, behind the counter.
“Babe,” he drawled, holding out a hand. “Come out with me. It’s a glorious day and I want you to show me some of this English countryside.”
“What?” Jasmine’s head was fuzzy, unable to compute what on earth Ajay’s game might be. “But…” She looked to Krishnan for support or some interpretation of what this might mean.
“She’s working,” said Krishnan. “Now, unless you’re buying, get out of my shop.”
“It’s Jasmeena’s decision to make, I think,” said Ajay smoothly. “Come on, babe. Take the day off. Let’s have a picnic and a lovely countryside walk. I want to see the Peak District.” He moved closer, dropping his voice. “I want to see your peaks, Jas.”
“What are you talking about? We can’t do this. There’s a bloody press photographer back there. I don’t get it!”