Don't Let Him Know (14 page)

When Romola went outside, Tublu from three houses down was standing outside reading the newspaper. Romola's father had helped get him a job. Tublu looked up and asked Bela-di quietly, ‘How is Ramen-babu?'

Bela-di did not answer. But out of the corner of her eye Romola saw her shake her head. Tublu sighed, then he smiled at Romola. ‘So, off to school, eh?'

By then Romola had learned to recognize false smiles. At first it had made her feel shut out, as if she was the outsider in a conspiracy. Now she was used to it and knew that it also meant she was free from their attention. She looked back at the house, swung her water bottle extra hard as she and Bela-di started walking down the street. Ma was standing at the door. But instead of waving to her, she was talking intently with Tublu.

‘Aren't we taking the car?' asked Romola.

‘No,' said Bela-di. ‘Your mother might need it today. We are going to take a taxi.'

Romola decided to see how much she could push things on this most unusual day. ‘Can I get a little money to buy some peppermints? I forgot to ask Ma.'

‘Okay, I will give you some when I get change from the taxi driver,' Bela-di said. ‘Now come along. We have to hurry or we'll be late.'

Romola turned again to see if her mother was looking at her. This time she was. Ma raised her hand to wave. The sari slipped down and she saw her bangles glint in the morning sun. That was the last time Romola remembered her mother wearing those bangles. It was as if inside her head something clicked and took a photograph of her mother knowing she might never look quite the same again. The sari with the thin blue stripes and the blue fishes on its border. Her hair still loosely knotted near her neck like it had been when she had gone to sleep. And those red and white bangles. Then her mother turned and went back into the house.

‘Watch where you're going.' Bela-di grabbed her elbow crossly. ‘You almost stepped into that puddle.'

‘Okay, okay,' Romola said, stepping around it. ‘But tell me you won't forget to give me the peppermint money.'

‘I said I'd give it to you, didn't I?' Bela-di said sharply. ‘Now walk nicely and give me your bag. You are swinging it so much your lunch will be one big mess.' She meekly handed her the bag but as she would discover later – it was too late. The sandesh was already all over the cucumber.

When school ended that day she saw to her surprise that neither her mother nor Bela-di had come to get her. Instead it was Dipti-mashi from next door with Mohan. Mohan was wearing a blue shirt that Dipti-mashi had given him last year as a gift for the Pujas. But he had grown a bit since then and now the shirt was tight under the arms. But since that was his newest shirt he always wore it, especially when he went shopping at big stores.

‘There you are, Romola,' Dipti-mashi said, coming forward and taking her bag and giving it to Mohan to carry.

‘Where is Ma? Or Bela-di?' she asked frowning.

‘They were busy. And I had some shopping to do at New Market so I just said I would pick you up.'

She wished grown-ups would not lie like that. Dipti-mashi went shopping at New Market all the time. She had never picked her up before.

‘How was school?' she said.

‘All right,' Romola replied, kicking a stone. She had mixed up Narmada and Tapti rivers again on the map but she figured Dipti-mashi did not need to know. After all, she probably had no idea she had had a geography test.

‘How was tiffin?'

‘The cucumbers were all mixed up with the sandesh and they tasted funny,' she said grumpily.

‘That's because you swing your bag so much,' she replied.

‘Ma always puts them in foil,' Romola retorted.

‘Well, she did not tell me,' said Dipti-mashi, ‘but I'll do that for you next time.'

‘Are you going to make tiffin for me tomorrow again?'

‘Oh I don't know. I might, if your Ma is too busy.'

‘Why would she be too busy?' she asked.

‘Oh, you know,' she said vaguely.

To Romola's surprise, they did not go home. Instead they went to Abha-mashi's house. Abha-mashi was actually not Romola's aunt. She was Dipti-mashi's sister. But they called her aunt anyway. She lived about two streets away from them so she was always over at her sister's. Sometimes Abha-mashi would give Romola a Cadbury chocolate bar.

‘Come on,' said Dipti-mashi opening the car door.

‘What, here?' she said in surprise. ‘Why?'

‘Oh, we need to stay here for a little while,' she said.

‘But what about my bath? What about Ma?' she said, puzzled.

‘Oh, your Ma already knows. We will go over soon. We can leave your school bag in the car if you like.' But Romola carried it with her anyway.

Abha-mashi did not seem surprised at all to see her. ‘Go upstairs. I'll send Mohan up with a snack and some lemon squash in a minute,' she said.

‘Mohan, go tell the cook to make some squash for Dipti and Romola,' Abha-mashi said. ‘And then go to the roof and play with Romola for a bit.'

‘Go on,' she said, giving Romola a little push. ‘Go upstairs. Mohan will be up in a minute.'

But he doesn't want to play with me, Romola thought to herself. However, she said nothing and slowly climbed up the stairs dragging her school bag behind her. It went bump-bump on the steps. She looked back once and saw Dipti-mashi and Abha-mashi still standing at the foot of the stairs talking in hushed voices. Abha-mashi was looking at her as she said something to her sister. Seeing Romola watching her, she smiled and said, ‘Go on. Make yourself at home.'

But I can't eat without having a bath first, Romola thought.

Romola went into the study where Abha-mashi kept all her books. She saw a comic book lying on the table. She started leafing through it when she heard Mohan coming in.

‘What are you reading?' he said putting a glass of lemonade down in front of her.

‘It's not for you,' Romola said, without looking at him. ‘You won't understand it.'

‘It's only pictures anyway,' he shrugged. Out of the window Romola could see the street. Dipti-mashi's driver was leaning on the bonnet of the car talking to Abha-mashi's driver, the smoke from their cigarettes wafting in the air around them lazily in the late afternoon sun. ‘What are we doing here, anyway?' she asked Mohan.

Mohan pulled a face but did not say anything. But after she had finished the drink he turned to Romola and said, ‘Well, do you want to go to the terrace or not?'

Romola shrugged and followed him out and up the stairs. Romola had come to Abha-mashi's house once before. She remembered they had all played hide-and-seek on the roof. Their roof was a good place to play hide-and-seek. It had little rooms with the water cistern and concrete posts that were good places to hide in.

But today there was no one except Mohan and her. The sky was still blue and cloudless but it was no longer as hot as it had been all day.

‘What shall we play?' she said kicking a pebble.

‘I don't know,' Mohan curled his lip. Then he said, ‘I'll just sit here and watch you.'

‘You can't do that,' said Romola. ‘Dipti-mashi told you to play with me. You must play.'

Mohan did not answer her.

Undeterred, Romola said, ‘Let's play school-school.' Then she added quickly, ‘I'll be teacher. You can be the student.'

‘What rubbish,' said Mohan. ‘You're just a baby. How can you be the teacher?'

‘I can too,' said Romola. ‘And you are only a few years older than me. I am not a baby.'

‘You are too, silly,' he said.

‘That's not true,' Romola's voice was sharp with agitation. ‘Now I am going to give you a spelling test. No, no an arithmetic test. Can you do short division in your head?'

Mohan rolled his eyes and said, ‘This is a stupid game. You don't know anything.'

‘I do too,' said Romola. ‘Now if you don't play with me I'll tell Dipti-mashi.'

‘Big baby,' he scoffed.

‘I am not,' she protested.

‘Yes, you are.'

‘No, I'm not.' By now she was close to tears.

‘Yes you are, a hundred times. Anyway, the only reason I am playing with you is because you are a baby and your Dipti-mashi doesn't want to tell you your father is dead because you'll just start to cry and—' he clapped his hand over his mouth and stopped.

‘What did you say?' said Romola squinting at Mohan.

‘Nothing.' But Mohan would not meet her eyes.

‘I heard you,' she said but she couldn't feel anything. His words kept ringing as if her mother's old gramophone needle had got stuck in her brain. Mohan had become quiet, looking around nervously as if to see who might have been listening to them. Romola looked away from him across the roofs of houses. In the late afternoon sun, rooftop after empty rooftop stretched before her. She could see the washing hung out to dry. Emerald green sari, white petticoat, small boy's checked shirt, dark blue shorts, another sari, this one yellow with little red flowers, another petticoat. She counted them in her head.

After a minute Mohan sat down hesitantly near her and touched her shoulder.

‘Romola,' he said. ‘I'll play school-school, if that's what you want.'

She did not say anything. She felt she was supposed to cry now but all she could do was count the clothes hung out to dry. She wondered if she would have to go to school tomorrow. Then she worried it was wrong to have thoughts like that.

‘You can even give me an arithmetic test,' Mohan said with a touch of desperation.

She looked at him thoughtfully and said, ‘I can?'

He nodded.

She said, ‘Okay, and then I'll give you a spelling test too. And if you get more than two wrong you don't get any tiffin. Mohan, is Dipti-mashi going to make my tiffin tomorrow too?'

‘I don't know,' he said.

‘Tell her to put the sandwiches in a separate bag or something. They got all mixed up and yucky with my sandesh.'

He nodded.

‘Here,' said Romola. ‘Let's pretend this comic book is my text book.' She scribbled some figures on the ground with a piece of chalk and said, ‘Okay, do some sums.'

As he crouched on the ground, she walked over and stood near him. She could see the traces of talcum powder around his neck, chalky smudges on his skin as dark as her grandfather's old teak furniture. His hair was slick with oil and plastered to his scalp as if with thick black paint. She could see the furrows his comb made in his hair. She was so close she could smell the coconut oil he massaged into it. She stared at the back of his neck and sat down next to him. Then she said, ‘I am not a baby, you know.'

‘I know.' But he did not look at her.

‘I know things,' she said, twirling a piece of string around in her fingers.

‘Like what?'

‘Things,' she said mysteriously. ‘Like do you know that guy who lives across the street from us? The one who goes to college? He smokes. I saw him one day when he thought no one was looking.'

‘Who cares about that?' he said.

‘Well, I know other things too,' she said, slightly deflated. ‘Like how babies are made.'

Mohan burst into giggles, finally meeting her gaze. ‘No, you don't.'

‘Yes, I do,' she said indignantly. ‘I can show you.'

He looked at her eyes wide with disbelief.

‘But first you have to show me yours,' said Romola.

‘What?' he said. ‘You must be crazy.'

‘Show me,' said Romola. ‘I won't tell anyone.'

‘Don't be silly.'

‘No one can see us here.'

‘I don't want to show you anything.'

‘You have to,' said Romola.

‘I have to?'

‘If you don't show it to me, I'll tell Dipti-mashi you told me.'

‘You little—' he said reaching out to grab her.

Romola jumped out of his way and sang, ‘Show me, show me.'

Mohan looked at her baffled.

‘Or I'll tell,' she said. ‘And then Dipti-mashi will give you two tight slaps. Maybe fire you too. Once Ma and Baba had a fight and Basanti-di who worked for us went and told Dipti-mashi all about it. And Dipti-mashi told Ma and Basanti-di was fired.'

‘You are just a silly girl,' said Mohan but his tone lacked conviction.

‘Try me,' Romola pretended to head towards the door. But she knew she had won for the fight had drained out of Mohan's face. His head was drooping slightly, his eyes darting nervously to the door.

‘Look here, near the water tank,' said Romola. ‘No one can see you except the kites.'

He stood near the tank and said grudgingly, ‘Only for a minute then. And if you tell anyone I will tell everyone you made me do it.'