Finally, she sinks down onto the settee to catch her breath and picks up her phone to check her messages. I sit down next to her.
"Mum?"
She stiffens, her body going rigid. She doesn't look up from the phone.
"I am really busy just now. Can't we talk later?"
"M-u-m please."
The desperation in my voice gets through to her, and she looks up at me.
"Okay. Okay. What is it, Vik?"
"Vishal—"
She pales, looks back at her phone but doesn't play with it. Just stares as if all the answers are there on the screen.
"Well?" she asks.
"Why did you send him away, Ma?"
"Who's telling you these lies?" She's trying to control herself, but her cheeks redden and she twirls a strand of hair between her fingers, curling it tight, stretching it as if she wants to tear it out. "He's gone to a good school, with a nice hostel. Just like you are now at St James. Just like we sent you away …" Her voice trails off.
"But I am in Mussoorie, and he is here in Bombay. In the same city as you and Dad. We're his family after all, and isn't this his home too?"
"You won't understand, Vik. You are just a child."
Grown-ups! When it suits them I am an adult. When it's convenient I am a child.
"I'm fifteen, Ma. I. Am. Not. A. Child, anymore. Besides, I am taller than you now." I will not raise my voice. Will not get upset. So they won't send him to St James, but why can't he stay at home?
"It's better for him to be at the hostel."
"Is it because he is not your son?"
Thud—She slaps me. The skin of her hand is soft. It's just a light brush over my cheek really, not even a real slap. But the surprise rams into me. It's more painful than a boxer's punch. Mum's never hit me before. Never. I've always been her favourite. The one she relied on. She looks as shocked as I feel and covers her mouth with her hand. Then she hugs me. Tight.
"Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean that, Vikky."
At least I got through to her. Now maybe she'll tell me what really happened.
"Why, Ma?" I ask again. I don't hug her back. I just wait to hear what she has to say.
She pulls back and holds my palms in her smaller ones.
"It's easier this way, Vikky. On both of us. Don't you think I don't know it's not his fault? But every time I see him. Every. Single. Time. It hurts. It really does."
She's crying a little. Not sobbing or anything. Only her eyes shine with unshed tears. Her life is in her eyes. This is her life. This house. Me. Dad. Seema. Her family. Her world.
"I can never forgive your father, Vikky. Will never be able to accept him in this house. We can't live under the same roof. If he's here, I'll only make all of us unhappy. Your father. And his son. Both of them."
His son. She still never refers to him as Vishal.
"I'm not a saint, Vik. I am just a woman. Do you understand?"
No, I don't. Not really. Let Vishal stay home. What's the big deal? Pushing him away to a hostel when he has a home of his own in the same city? It doesn't make sense.
I nod.
Why does life have to be so complicated?
FIFTEEN
I asked Ash out for dinner. Nothing major, just a casual meal to celebrate the end of our grade ten exams. I am about to become a true senior now. As I wait by the gates of school, I look out over the lights of the city in the distance. They twinkle like the floodlights from ships crossing the ocean. The world is out there waiting … and I want to discover it all … Find out what life is like beyond what I see here.
There's a light touch on my shoulder and I turn to look down at Ash. Over the last year I have been growing steadily and now at six feet I am much taller than her. She has grown too, but is still only chest high in height. Unlike her usual jeans and shirt, today she is wearing a dress. She wears her hair loose, so the brown-blonde curls cascade down to below her shoulders. I almost don't recognise her. That ever-present curl of desire grows even stronger, and I try to ignore it.
"You look—" My tongue seems to stumble over the words and I can't think of what to say.
"—Beautiful?" Ash grins, and I relax. Her lips curve in a smile I recognise, cheeky, saucy with a hint of arrogance. She is once more my cricket-playing buddy.
I give her my hand. "Shall we?"
She nods and we walk down the curving driveway towards the gates. I sniff an unfamiliar too-flowery scent.
"You're wearing perfume," I say accusingly.
"Wow, you are observant," she says, her voice threaded with a hint of sarcasm.
"I don't like it," I say flatly, surprising myself with the vehemence in my voice.
"What, my perfume?" Dropping my arm, she looks at me as if I am crazy.
"I prefer your natural scent." I say it, then realise how that sounds.
"You mean my usual muddy, grubby smell."
"Oranges," I say. "You normally smell like chocolate cookies and oranges."
"Was that a compliment?" She nudges me with her elbow and I feel my cheeks grow hot. Ash still makes me awkward and tongue-tied. That hasn't changed.
She looks at me closely as we walk. "I do believe you are blushing, Mr Roy."
"Mr Roy's my dad," I say, trying to be flippant.
She doesn't reply, and I wonder if I have offended her.
"You do look very nice," I offer by way of a peace offering.
She changes the subject, "Here I was thinking you had finally got up the nerve to ask me out on a date."
"Date?" I say stupidly, as if the thought hasn't occurred to me at all.
"You may look all grown up but inside you are still a kid, you know?" she says, only half-angry. Before I can reply, she asks, "So, where are you taking me?"
I lead her to the waiting taxi. It's forbidden for students to use the local cab service, since they are rumoured to sell drugs to kids, but this once I am willing to break the rules.
***
Dinner's a ten-minute ride away. A little Italian restaurant in the mall of the nearest town. It's affordable … Besides, it's the only restaurant in the village with candles on the table. Pretending I know what I am doing, I ask for wine, only to be told they don't serve students.
Ash laughs at my disgusted expression. There goes my attempt at trying to look grown up. The pizzas arrive. Hungry, we demolish them quickly, concentrating on the food.
"So, you have a girlfriend, Vik?"
"Hmm?" Mouth full of food, I look up at her and nod my head, then shake it.
"Yes, No? Confused?" Her voice is amused.
"Uh! I have you, don't I?"
She sputters, spewing food. Wiping her lips she says, "Just because I am having dinner with you, doesn't mean I am your girlfriend."
"You are a girl and my friend. So you are my girlfriend?" Lame. Very lame. How could you say that, Vik?
"I do have a boyfriend, you know?" She lifts her soft drink, drains it.
"Amar? I thought you didn't like him."
"Whatever gave you that idea?" She looks at me as if I am a retard.
I feel like one just now.
"But you said—" Before I can complete my sentence, the waiter arrives to clear our plates. Then she wants ice cream for dessert and spends another ten minutes deciding which one. Once it arrives, she digs in and slurps it all up in less than five minutes. To my disappointment, we are done with the meal and out in less than half an hour.
"So, about Amar … you were saying, Ash—"
"Oh! Forget Amar." She links her arm through mine. Her skin is so soft. Silky. My head spins slightly. Mouth goes dry. I try to speak and find I can't. As we head out, Ash asks, "Have you ever been to Gap 50?"
"You mean the house on the edge of the valley?"
She nods. "Just as I thought … you've never been there, have you?"
"Isn't it haunted?" I offer tentatively.
"You scared, Vik?" She crosses her eyes, opens her mouth wide. "Boo!" Did I scare you then?" She giggl
es, hits me playfully on the shoulder.
She really can be mean, Ash.
"Ha. Ha," I laugh politely. "You want to go? Now? Are you sure?" I look at the gloomy woods thrown into relief by the moonless night, the trees making ink-black blobs against the hillside.
"Go on, live dangerously. Don't you think it's time for you to lose your virginity?"
"Huh?" I stare.
The breath rushes out of me as if I have been hit by a massive rock.
She laughs.
"Stop it." I feel stupid, really dumb. My face reddens.
She laughs some more.
"Dummy. I mean your Gap 50 virginity, of course. Time for you break that barrier at least, no?"
Her mocking tone angers me. She's expecting me to refuse. Well, I'll show her that nothing scares me. Certainly not ghosts.
"Come on," I say. Taking her hand, I pull her along, setting a fast pace through the woods.
***
It's a dark two-storeyed structure, built in the English-Gothic style popularised by the British when Mussoorie was their main summer resort in the country. I have passed it from a distance, seen its white and red sloping roof glistening in the sunlight. This is the first time I have been so close to it at night. Walking up the steps, I hesitate at the entrance. The building curves around us, and for a moment it feels as if the walls are closing in on me. As I hesitate, Ash holds up both her hands, making them into fists and slams them down on the door.
"Ash!" I exclaim.
"Scared I'll wake up the ghost?" she teases me.
In reply, I push at the doors. It's locked of course. What was I expecting? That it would creak open on its hinges like in a horror movie?
"Come on!" I break into a run, intent on taking the lead. Running around the building, I stop at a window. Looking around for a stone, I pick one heavy enough so I need both hands to pick it up and heave it, so it goes through the dusty glass pane. The resulting crash is loud enough to startle both of us. I can hear the sound echo around the interiors of the house, emphasising how isolated we are here.
When I begin to unbutton my shirt, Ash looks at me with raised eyebrows.
"Really?" She smirks. "In such a hurry?"
"It's not what you think." I bite out the words.
Before she can ask any further questions, I wrap the shirt around my fist and use it to break off the jagged pieces of glass on the pane. Then, pushing my arm through the square, I open the lock of the window from inside. Opening it, I grab hold of the window ledge and heave myself over, falling over promptly on the other side.
I am stunned, but bounce back on my feet quickly. Coughing out the dust which streams over my face, I tell Ash, "Come on to the front door."
Running to the front door, I pull at the old-fashioned wooden bar which is placed across it. Pleased when it comes away in my hand, I open the door, panting with the exertion of pulling at the heavy wood. Then, grinning, I bow to Ash, who is standing at the threshold.
"Come in, your highness." I make a mock bow.
Ash holds her nose in the air, playing her part, and walks past me. It's gloomy inside but the moon is bright enough to light up the way. Ash follows me as I walk past an overturned chair, a large settee covered in plastic, and take in the paintings on the wall.
"It's as if the family who lived here abandoned it without moving any of their possessions out," she says. Holding my hand, she drags me to the staircase.
"Where are we going?"
"On a tour, dummy. Don't you want to see what's upstairs?"
I follow her, our shoes making clattering noises on the wooden steps, then, I hear something.
"Wait." I stop midway up the stairs.
"What?" she says loud enough for her voice to echo around the building.
"Did you hear that?"
"No." In the silence that follows, she laughs nervously.
Then she hears it too. A soft padding from upstairs, the unmistakeable noise of nails dragging on the wooden floor. We look at each other wide-eyed. A chill runs up my back, and the hairs on my forearms spring upright.
"Come on, we have to find out what it is." Grinning wickedly, Ash leaps ahead and runs, dragging me along.
"Ash, honestly," I mutter, more scared than I'd like to admit.
We cross the landing of the first floor and walk towards the open door leading to the room on the far side. Once again, there's the sound of dragging footsteps. I swallow nervously in the darkness, but chivalry gets the better of me and I walk ahead, pushing Ash behind me.
"Stay quiet," I whisper.
In the dark I see the white of her eyes, rounded in fear. She is not as unafraid as she makes out to be. We slip into the room. The shadows here are darker, and it takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust. Then I hear a low growl and the padding sound comes towards me, a flash of black and yellow spots.
"Ash!" I push her out of the way and jump, covering her with my body just as a leopard leaps past us, making for the door.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" I swear.
My heart is beating so hard it threatens to leap out of my chest. I look up to the door and am relieved to find there's no sign of the leopard. Ash's body is shaking below mine. Her heart, too, is thumping hard, slamming against me. I can't tell where her pulse stops and mine begins.
"Goddammit, Ash!" I look down; worried she is having a seizure, or worse. Her face is scrunched up.
"Oh my God, are you okay?" My voice comes out all high-pitched.
"Yes. No," her voice quivers in reply. She opens her eyes finally and I realise she is laughing, silently. At me. Again.
Something snaps inside of me and I know there is no turning back. Not today.
"That was a-a—"
"Leopard," I say
"Gho-st?" she asks at the same time.
"Yeah, that's our ghost," I say, nodding.
I want to stay angry with her, but the sparks in her eyes draw me in completely.
Her skin scrapes across mine. Her dress is around her waist and one of my legs is between hers. My thigh brushes against her frock-covered midriff. The heat rushes at me through the cloth. I am surrounded by her smell. Awareness comes into her eyes at the same time. Her laughter dies and the blue of her eyes dart fire at me.
"Don't go falling in love with me now." She tilts her head up.
Her lips are curved. I want to taste them, slant my lips across her mouth. Bending down, I touch my lips to hers. Her breath tastes like oranges. And chocolate. She flings her arms around me and rams my body to her's with fierce strength. It feels as if she's vibrating, as if the shudders are running up her body and down mine. Leopards are my favourite animals from now on.
SIXTEEN
I haven't seen Ash since our "ghostly" trip to Gap 50. She's avoiding me. Is she embarrassed by what happened? It had been so special that day. Had felt so good. I have to see her and tell her how I feel. I rush to our weekly cricket practice venue and get there early, hoping she comes before the others.
It's just coming into summer in March and the weather's really pleasant at 5pm. I stand in the clearing, breathing in the bubbles of freshness into my lungs. Every time I go back to Bombay, the city air tastes brown … dirty in comparison.
Soon, it will be the end of this year too. And then … then only two more years till I graduate. Strange, when you realise time is limited, it gives you an urgency you never had before.
Where is Ash? I look at my watch. Look up. There she is, walking towards me. She looks at me, past me. Is she avoiding me?
"Ash—" I call out to her. Pain explodes in my legs and I cry out, falling to the ground. What the—? What was that? What hit me? I can barely move my leg. Is it broken? Clutching it, I manage to roll onto my back. Amar's holding a cricket bat in his hand.
"You moved in on my girl?" He bites out the words, muscles taut with anger. Eyes wide, nostrils flaring. The rage bounces off him.
I take a deep breath and try not to groan as the agony sends white sparks shootin
g up my side. I am not going to show how much it really hurts.
"She's not your girlfriend," I say.
My voice is calm. Eyes steady, I meet his gaze. Hold it. It only makes him angrier. Face contorted, he is sweating as if he has run all the way from the school grounds. He raises his bat again and I hold up my hands to protect my face.
"Amar! DON'T!" Ash runs up, and jumping up, hangs off his left biceps, trying to hold him back.
Compared to Amar's six-feet-two-inch bulked-up frame, she seems small and petite. Frail. He shakes her off and she flies to the side, falling with a thump.
"Ash!" My own pain forgotten, I am on my feet and running to help her.
To my surprise she holds up her hands as if to ward me off. "Go away, Vik, really. You don't want to be here when he is this angry."
"Why not? I can protect myself."
"Yeah, right. You?" She laughs and I realise she is being serious.
She really sees me as no match for Amar.
A cold fury runs through me. It's as if molten steel is pouring through my veins. My features harden and I look at her with narrowed eyes. Without a word, I turn and hold up my arms ready to fight.
Amar needs no further invitation and rushes at me with the cricket bat again. I step aside. He trips over Ash's feet and goes sprawling face down, losing his bat in the process.
"Ow!" Ash withdraws her feet in haste.
"Get out of here, Ash," I say without looking at her, focussing on the still figure on the ground. Amar stirs and rolls over on his back. His face is as muddy as mine. He bares his teeth, hissing in anger, and gets back on his feet. This time I make the first move. Jump him. We go down in a tangle of arms and legs. I make sure he cushions my fall. I grip his waist with my legs and proceed to hit him with my fists. And again. Once more. I raise my fist a third time and am pulled back from him, hauled to my feet by one of the teachers. At least he's bleeding from his lips. His shirt is torn. One of his eyes is almost shut. I managed to get a few in, didn't I?
The First Life of Vikram Roy (Many Lives Series Book 3) Page 7
