CHAPTER 4  Julie Daniels had been a teacher, leading an unexciting life, until she met Aga Khaleeli. It was a fairy-tale romance that had swept her off her feet. He was a handsome Iranian, who had soon to return to Teheran.  So the marriage was to take place within the next month. Julie smiled down at her namesake, who was helping her pack her bags.  They would be sent overland, and Aga cautioned her not to bother about anything except her personal possessions.  “No use of buying linen and draperies from here, my Love,” he had said.  “Mother will have everything ready for us, right down to the last pin-cushion.” So, Julie had used up her savings to buy herself a gorgeous wardrobe.“You’re a lucky girl,” said Ju her namesake, “How I envy you!” “Yes,” confessed Julie, “I’ve been incredibly lucky. Aga is a nice guy, and I hope his parents too are nice people.” By any standards, it was a very brief courtship.  Julie had met Aga six months ago, in a restaurant where she had her lunch every day.  She was working as a teacher in a Convent school, and the job was both strenuous and boring.  It was a thankless business, teaching precocious little girls history and geography, when all they wanted to talk was about those scruffy Beatles, who gave her the creeps.  Then it was the ’shrug’ and the ‘frug’, and the latest gyrations that were doing the rounds in teen circles. She was in a foul mood that day, thinking only of how to subdue a class of little devils, who asked all sorts of embarrassing questions.  She had barely touched her plate of food, and was staring absently down, when a deep bass voice shattered her trend of thoughts.  “May I share the table with you, Miss?  The restaurant is packed, and I’m afraid I haven’t the time to wait.” She looked up from her plate, into a pair of brown eyes.  He was already settling down in a chair opposite her.  A handsome fellow, fair of complexion, with blonde hair and a fine blonde moustache, which he kept twirling from time to time! “He can easily pass off for an Englishman,” thought Julie. While he was busy ordering his meal, Julie took a good look at the stranger.  He turned to her at last. “I guess I ought to introduce myself,” he said, “I’m Aga Khaleeli.  We run the big cloth store on Cunningham Street.  I’m sorry to intrude on you like this, but I’ve got an important customer coming in at 1 p.m.” “Oh, you really don’t have to apologize.  I don’t own the restaurant anyway.” The young man gave her a warm smile, and began to twirl the ends of his moustache until his food arrived, as though deep in thought.  When it was set before him, he hastily devoured it, made his excuses, and was gone.  Julie didn’t see him again for almost a month. Every day, she looked around the restaurant to see he if he had come.  Then one fine day when she had given up all hope, he was there.  This time, he asked no permission. He seated himself opposite her, and took the liberty of ordering lunch for Julie too, waiving aside all her protests. “Oh don’t stand on formality.  We’re old friends now.  I’ve been out of town for a month, and couldn’t make your acquaintance earlier.” And so they fell into an easy friendship.  At first it was just having lunch together.  Then followed occasional outings to the movies, when Aga wasn’t busy.  Gradually their meetings became an everyday affair, and Julie realised that Aga was becoming the most important person in her life.  He was a very pleasant fellow, and Julie loved the way his brown eyes twinkled when he smiled.  However, he spoke very little about himself, but skillfully, with a question here and there, extracted every piece of information about Julie and her family.  He learnt that she was an orphan who lived with an aged aunt, and though not wealthy, was a decent, well-behaved girl. However, except for the amorous evenings spent in his embrace, with his urgent lips seeking her quivering mouth, Julie knew precious little about Aga. It really didn’t bother her. She was happy and content to love, and to be loved. About six months later, Aga came in looking very depressed. “Honey,” he said, “I’ve had bad news from home.  My father is very ill and wants me to come back to Iran.  I’ll have to take over running the family business.” Julie gasped audibly.  “Is this the end?” she wondered. Aga sensed her fear. “You don’t have to worry, darling.  I’m not leaving without you. What do you say to a marriage in May?” Julie’s face lit up with a smile.  “So soon? We are in the middle of May already.” “Well, if you don’t want to be left behind, you better agree,” he laughed. Julie had her share of troubles.  It was no easy task getting Aga to agree to a church wedding. “Honey, why go through such an ordeal?  Let’s go to the Registrar.  It’s neat and legitimate.” But Julie cried and pleaded, so he finally gave in. “Okay Precious, if it means so much to you, I’ll grin and go through with it.” Then there was an even more difficult task of convincing the Parish priest that she was in dead earnest, and nothing would make her change her mind about Aga. “A much too handsome fellow!  You know nothing about his background,” the priest cautioned. “But I know Aga well enough, and he’s the only one that matters,” Julie replied emphatically. Now it was all settled, and within the next fortnight, they would be inseparably, irrevocably bound together for life. Julie was sorting out bundles of old letters and papers, which had accumulated over the years.  Like most women, she was a real hoarder, and it was sheer agony to part with things she had collected and stored.  But she’d have to get rid of them. Soon she would be Mrs. Aga Khaleeli with not a care in the world, and from what she had gathered, would have plenty of money to burn. She looked through the bundle of old certificates – a high first class in matriculation, a first again in her Teacher’s Diploma, glowing testimonials from teachers she had long forgotten, and the last one from the convent, where she had worked for three years. “I won’t need any of them,” she thought.  “I’ll never be a teacher again.” She was on the verge of destroying them, then changed her mind.  Turning to her namesake she said, “Here Ju, you better keep these.  Who knows, it might be useful to you some day. You could pass off as me, if you like.” “What a preposterous suggestion!” said Ju, “Anyway, I’ll keep them for you.  Who knows, you may need them some day.”   Julie had met her namesake at the Catholic Club, almost two years ago.  Because of the similarity of their names, someone had thought fit to introduce them.  Since then, they had become close friends.  Probably, Julie’s nature of never probing into other people’s lives had been the reason why Ju sought her friendship. “Why, I hardly know anything about her,” thought Julie, “But what does it matter now?  I may never see her again after I go off to Iran.” Ju was a very quiet person by nature.  She dressed neatly, even though her clothes were far from expensive.  She visited Julie every week, and sometimes the two of them would attend church together.  Now as a final gesture of friendship, Julie had requested Ju to be her bridesmaid.                                      To be continued…..