PAPER WIFE

CHAPTER 2

Six Years Later

CELIA

My parents had given in to me, and reluctantly allowed me to pursue undergraduate studies at the University of London, but they had balked when I declared, upon graduating with a Business degree, that I would like to continue with post-graduate studies.

My parents stared at me as if I had gone mad. My father thought this was both a waste of time and unsuitable with all those young men roaming the hallways and filling ladies' heads with silly and lewd thoughts. My mother was equally unimpressed by these modern notions of mine. Girls were supposed to follow a simple life cycle, from pampered daughter to cosetted wife. To study further would mean to delay this cycle. I had argued with my parents, and clashed over the matter more than a dozen times, and this morning was no different.

"It's time you got married," my father says, clearing his throat.

My father's statement stuns me and I stare at him for a long beat.

"What?"

My mother purses her lips.

"You can't keep gallivanting around with those friends of yours forever. You should settle down and raise a family. That's what I did, and my mother before me. We are no ordinary family, Celia, you know that. We have a reputation to uphold."

"Mum, listen to you, this is the 21st Century, for crying out loud. I'm not you or Grandmother. I'm twenty-two, I assure you I have a few more good years to go before I become a dried up, old prune on the shelf," I say indignantly.

"Celia, you know you are practically engaged to Philip Duvall. I don't want your excursions splashed about in the newspaper. How would Philip's parents feel, to have their future-daughter-in-law painted as a frivolous young girl who cares only for parties and aimless pursuits?" My father says, softening his tone. "You know, as well as we do, that you are to marry Philip Duvall. You have known this from young, as has Philip."

"I don't want to marry Philip," I say petulantly.

"Why not?" my father looks shocked.

"I don't love him."

"There are plenty of shining examples in the world that demonstrate love need not be a condition of a successful marriage. Look at your mother and me. Ours was an arranged marriage as well," my father says.

"What would you have me do, then?" I ask pettishly. "Marry a man I do not love just to appease you and Mum? Don't you find the whole arranged marriage thing abhorrent?"

"It is more than an arranged marriage thing, my dear," my father says, looking offended. "It is a fusion of two great families and heritages. That is the way it has been for generations, for your mother and me, for your grandparents, and your great-grandparents. That is the way it is in our world. You know that. We have impressed upon you that fact from young."

"What about love? What about my freedom of choice?" I cry. "Don't I have a say in who I want to marry?"

My father looks at me with kindness.

"Love is not a word in our world, darling. We marry our chosen partners, and love grows from there, after marriage. That is how it was with with your mother and I." He smiles at my mother, and she lays a gentle palm over his hand. "We grew to love each other, and when you came along, you strengthened our love."

"I doubt I could ever love Philip. He sleeps around and is hell-bent on ploughing his way through the whole of the female population before he settles down. I hardly think he is husband material," I say scathingly.

"Language, darling," my mother says disapprovingly. "Philip is just a young man. I hardly think all those stories about him are true. You can't trust what you read in the media. His mother assures me he is hopelessly devoted to you."