Free Monsoon Memories by Renita D'Silva Page B

washed her face and hands. She desperately wanted to brush her teeth, get the awful taste out of her mouth. Did she have mints in her purse? She ought to buy some and keep them there.
    Anne was still trying to get to the bottom of things. ‘So, are you, you know...’ She indicated her stomach and rocked her hands together.
    What on earth did she mean? And then, all at once, realisation dawned, cold and heavy in the pit of her recently emptied stomach. If only you knew, Anne ...
    ‘I have the stomach bug. Twenty-four-hour thingy, I hope.’ Her voice sounded surprisingly normal, thank goodness. ‘Will take the afternoon off, I think...’
    ‘You do that. I’ll let Kate know.’ The look of pity on Anne’s face was far worse than her solicitousness.
    ‘Thanks, Anne,’ Shirin mumbled, grabbing her bag from her desk and running out of the office before she stumbled into anyone else—or, worse, burst into tears.

CHAPTER EIGHT
    Puffed-Up Puris and
Gluey Bhaji
    ‘B ye, Madhu.’ Reena allowed herself to be swept into Madhu’s embrace. Madhu was as over the top with her affections as Jacinta was reserved.
    Jacinta’s goodbye had been a squeeze of Reena’s hand. She had pushed a wayward strand of hair out of Reena’s face, looked into her eyes and said, ‘Come back to visit your Mai soon, you hear?’
    Then Reena had sought out Madhu, only to be squashed against her bosom, inhaling the smell of oil and spices that clung to Madhu’s clothes. ‘Look after yourself,’ Madhu said, ‘and come for Christmas. I’ll make Nevri and Tukdis.’ Nevri and Tukdis were Reena’s favourites out of all the Kuswar—the sweetmeats made especially at Christmas.
    ‘Hurry up, Reena, the rickshaw’s waiting,’ Preeti called.
    Gypsy howled. Chinnu came up to Reena, mewling, and rubbed herself against Reena’s legs.
    She looked up at Madhu. ‘I’m sorry for the hurt this caused,’ she whispered, opening her notebook to the photograph. ‘Do you want it?’ Please say I can keep it, Madhu.
    Plan A had not worked. After that eventful afternoon when she found out who Shirin was, she had not been able to wangle time alone with Madhu. Plan B was a washout. Now only Plan C remained and for that to work, she needed the photograph—once she’d managed to find Aunt Anita, that is. And she would. No task was too hard for Reena Diaz, Super Sleuth.
    ‘Oh, Rinu, you didn’t hurt me,’ Madhu smiled tenderly through tear-bright eyes. ‘It was nice to finally talk about her. I don’t need her picture. I have her here with me always.’ She pointed to her heart. ‘You keep it.’
    ‘Thank you,’ Reena said, giving her another hug, ‘Madhu, why...’ One final attempt at Plan A.
    ‘Shh…’ Madhu placed a finger gently on Reena’s lips. She bent down and whispered in Reena’s ear, ‘Don’t worry too much about Shirin. One day, soon, she’ll be back. I know it here.’ And once again she pointed at her heart.
    ‘Reena!’ Preeti called, sending Gypsy into a paroxysm of barks.
    ‘Go,’ Madhu said with a gentle nudge.
    Before she turned the corner, Reena looked back at the house—at Jacinta standing by the front door and Madhu on the steps in front of the kitchen—and waved as hard as she could.
    * * *
    Bangalore was just the same as usual: busy, bustling and unnaturally hot for the time of year. They arrived on Sunday morning and Reena’s mum spent all day in bed, curled up with the air conditioner on full blast. Her dad, after having breakfast (puri bhaji which Preeti had ordered from the restaurant across the potholed road from their apartment complex—the puris: puffed brown balloons which went poof when Reena stuck her finger in them; the bhaji: wet gluey potatoes that smelled and tasted like paste), announced that he was going to work.
    ‘On a Sunday?’ Preeti asked with a half-hearted pout, knowing even as she said it that he would go anyway.
    ‘I have been away for so long,’ Deepak was already at the computer