‘You want me to wear it?’ Maya exclaimed, stroking the glassy, cool fabric, which danced and dazzled in the afternoon light. ‘But it’s so gorgeous. You should wear it.’
‘It never looked that great on me,’ Lola laughed. ‘I’m too small. I look like a sad bird in a big nest. But I think it will look awesome on you. Only, what will you wear on top? That’s what’s been bothering me – I wish you had a shiny emerald green top. Or an orange velvet bustier. It would be just the thing.’
‘I don’t. And now that we are on the subject of orange velvet bustiers—whatever they are—I don’t think I’ll be investing in one anytime soon. Just so you know.’
Both girls erupted into giggles, and for the first time in days Maya felt upbeat. Lola was really Chicken Soup for the Soul. Or rather Red Velvet Cake for the Soul.
‘By the way,’ Lola said, ‘I found your famous Priti on Instagram. What’s so great about her? I don’t want to be lookist, but she has a nose like a parrot’s. And a smug-bug expression.’
‘She’s very popular,’ Maya said. ‘And she’s very cool. We used to have so much fun together. All sorts of stuff. We decided that if we saw a red mail van, it was our lucky day. And we would do all kinds of stuff to challenge our luck, but somehow it always worked.’
‘She doesn’t look like a red-mail-van girl anymore,’ Lola said, as she delved into Maya’s cupboard. ‘More like surgically-attached-to-her-device kind. Anyway, I guess a black tank top will have to do. We can dress it up with jewellery. Choose something from this box.’
A large wooden box emerged from the post-pregnancy backpack. Lola opened it to reveal a jumble of necklaces, earrings and bracelets. She rummaged for a bit and pulled out a long string of violet beads. Then a large green glass flower on a black chain. ‘One of these? Maybe. Keep both and we’ll decide.’
‘But what will you wear?’ Maya asked, worried that Lola would have nothing after her generous loans.
Lola delved into her bag again and came up with another bundle that turned out to be a dress with a full skirt and pert collar. Turquoise blue with yellow dots and a narrow yellow belt. ‘My favourite ’60s dress. Isn’t it the cutest? And with my new yellow shoes I’m all set to jive and cha cha cha. Or whatever they did in the ’60s.’
‘Amara will know exactly what they did in the ’60s,’ Maya mused. ‘And Owais. And Minty and Aniruddh. And that scary Girl with Green Eyes. And who knows who else.’
‘You think there are others?’ Lola asked in a somber voice. The room felt darker and even the puddle of brilliant silk on the bed seemed leached of light and beauty.
The tinkle of a wind chime penetrated the room. Maya tiptoed to her window and peeped at the apartment across the compound.
The window was wide open this time. There was definitely someone living there. Maya could see a chair, a cupboard and the flicker of a TV screen. Then she saw the silhouette of a small, ponytailed girl in a fluffy tutu and an old man on a chair. The little girl was running around the room, clutching a doll.
The sheer ordinariness of the scene reassured Maya. The Shadows had invaded her head – and forced her to see evil and danger wherever she went. But no longer. She was going to reclaim her life. To stop looking for monsters under the bed. ‘One less thing to worry about,’ she decided. ‘No more tiptoeing about in my own house, drawing curtains and peeping.’
‘I can’t wait for this to end,’ she said aloud. ‘I’m imagining monsters in every corner.’
Lola was picking out a yellow bracelet, but she looked up with instant sympathy. ‘Who can blame you? Somehow, we have to make this end. In fact, let’s go meet your piano teacher now.’
Maya squirmed. ‘It’s a bit awkward to land up at Mrs Rodrick’s house on a Sunday evening,’ she mumbled. ‘It’s not like she even remembers me or anything.’
Lola looked exasperated. ‘Do you know anybody else who plays the piano?’ she asked. ‘If this was Bangalore, I would be able to find someone in like five secs. Let’s just go to Mrs Rodrick’s house. At worse she’ll refuse.’
Lola packed her dress away. The backpack had lost some bulk but was still a traffic hazard and almost biffed the chowkidar on the nose as they left the building.
The two girls headed through drowsy Sunday streets towards Old Cuffe Parade, where Mrs Rodricks lived in a sprawling apartment full of genteel red armchairs and plastic fruit in glass bowls and little lace mats. Reluctantly, Maya rang the doorbell. She felt like a fat-fingered six-year-old again.
Nothing happened for a bit and then the door opened a crack to reveal a single eye. ‘Yes?’ demanded a young, male voice.
‘Mrs Rodricks?’ Maya asked, in a high-pitched voice.
‘Mamma’s gone to church.’
The door was about to shut when Lola jumped into the fray. ‘Maybe you can help us,’ she smiled. ‘Pleeeeese? Pretty please with a cherry on top?’
The owner of the single eye laughed, the door opened a bit more to reveal a brown face with amused eyes, very white teeth and wet hair. He looked about 18. ‘Hi, I’m Raz. I’m not dressed for visitors.’
‘Raz?’ Lola asked with a raised eyebrow.
‘Short for Erasmus. But that will have to stay a secret between us.’
‘Oh,’ Lola gurgled. ‘I know exactly how you feel. I’m Lola, short for Lalitanjali. Can we come in?’
‘I’m not exactly dressed for visitors,’ Raz repeated. ‘But if you wait here, I’ll get decent.’
The door shut and Lola raised an eyebrow at Maya. ‘How come you never mentioned Raz Rodricks? He seems like an ultimate cutie.’
‘I never even knew he existed,’ Maya protested. ‘You can’t imagine how dreadful those classes were. I was hardly going to check the bedrooms for cute boys.’
The door opened again. Raz, wearing a half-buttoned blue shirt and shorts, waved them in. The girls both perched on the overstuffed sofa. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘How can I help you? But I better warn you, I’m not going to buy any gizmos to improve my gas connection or donate money for poor kids in Pune. Sorry.’
‘Maya used to learn piano from your mum,’ Lola started.
‘Many years ago,’ Maya added.
Raz nodded with approval. ‘You’re one of those that got away,’ he said. ‘Like me. I stopped at Grade 6. So …?’
‘Well,’ Maya said. ‘We’re doing a clue hunt for a Summer School at St Paul’s, and we needed help with a musical clue.’
‘You’re at St Paul’s?’ Raz asked with genial interest. ‘I’ve never seen you there. I’m studying Physics. First year B.Sc. I’m sure I’d have seen you around.’
‘I’m from Bangalore and I’m joining this year,’ Lola explained. ‘Maya’s still in school. That’s why you haven’t like seen us. But do you think you could help us figure the clue?’
‘I stopped the piano years ago,’ Raz said, sounding genuinely sorry. ‘I play the guitar now. We have our own band. It’s called The Colaba Crash. But no piano.’
‘Ohhh,’ Lola said. ‘But can you please just try? Just to see if you recognise it. Or if it means anything. Please.’
‘Only if it has a cherry on top,’ Raz said and laughed uproariously. Lola guffawed too, and Maya felt very dour compared to the merry pair. For the first time, she really understood what writers of romance novels meant when they said ‘sparks were flying’.
She handed the yellowing, dog-eared paper to Raz. ‘This?’ he asked, puzzled. ‘This isn’t even music. Just some notes. Some random bars.’
He walked across to the grand piano in the corner of the vast living room, opened it and began to play notes. ‘This is the first line. It’s just five notes. Listen. D A G G A. Does it make any sense at all?’
Both girls shook their heads. But Maya wrote the letters down in her pad, anyway. DAGGA
Raz had started on the second line. ‘This has seven notes,’ he said, playing them slowly. ‘Listen. C A B B A G E.’
‘What?’ Lola asked. ‘What were the notes?
&nb
sp; ‘C A B B A G E’
‘Cabbage,’ Maya and Lola chorused together.
‘That’s pretty cool,’ Raz said. ‘You mean they are spelling words with the notes? Let’s see the next one. F A B A C E A E A. That’s a mouthful. The next one is very similar. F A G A C E A E A.’
Maya and Lola looked blank, but Maya jotted the letters down. Five minutes later their list was complete. None of them had the faintest clue about what it meant.
‘Dagga
Cabbage
Fabaceaea
Fagaceaea
Bacca
Ebbe’
Maya and Lola stood up to leave. Maya was eager to get out of the apartment before Mrs Rodricks returned from church. But Lola and Raz lingered, standing close to each other and staring at the mysterious list. ‘Ebbe,’ Raz said suddenly. ‘You know, right, that the herbarium at college is called the Ebbe Herbarium? Named after some Father Ebbe, I think.’
‘That’s super-useful,’ Lola beamed. ‘Thanks.’
‘Give me your number,’ Raz suggested. ‘If I get any more ideas, I’ll call. I’ll also send you a video of our latest song. It’s called Smashing Heads.’
They swapped numbers and grins, and finally Lola was ready to leave. The girls climbed down the stairwell and emerged into the still, orange evening. It was a time of day that Maya disliked. A time when worries reared their ugly heads, and ghosts and zombies came out to play.
She imagined unfriendly eyes boring holes into her back, but there was no one except a chanawala and a child, skipping along with her nanny. ‘Do you like him?’ Maya asked, trying to snap out of her mood.
‘He’s a cuteeeee,’ Lola exclaimed. ‘Please investigate him fully. Find out if he has a girlfriend. I’m just dying to know. The guitarist in a band. And that tan. He’s really cool. And so friendly. And so helpful …’
Lola continued to list the many virtues of Raz—in her eyes a combination of rockstar and paragon—till they reached the taxi stand. ‘He seems nice,’ Maya agreed as Lola floated towards a taxi and gave the driver a luminous beam. ‘Thanks for the skirt. Call when you get home. I’ll look up all those words on the Net and see if they make any sense.’
‘First find out if he has a girlfriend,’ Lola yelled out, as the taxi zoomed away. ‘Get your priorities right.’
CHAPTER 40
Lola and Maya were both brimming with news when they spoke an hour later.
Lola got there first. ‘He called. Can you imagine, he called already?’ she squealed, before launching into a peppy rendition of, ‘Happy’.
Maya waited till Lola ran out of breath and then jumped in. ‘I’ve got news too. I looked up Dagga, Bacca, blah, blah on the Net. And guess what?’
‘What?’
‘Dagga is the name of a plant. Cabbage is a vegetable. Fabaceaea is a family of flowering plants that includes peas. Fagaceaea is a family of plants that includes oak and beech trees. Bacca is another word for berry.’
‘Oh wow. All very green and eco-friendly.’
‘So what do you think?’
‘What I think is that we need Veda’s help with this. Botany was my worst subject in school.’
‘I don’t know if she’ll ever forgive me. But the thing is that all the words are to do with plants, and the last word is the name of the herbarium in the college. It can’t be a coincidence.’
‘It’s not a coincidence,’ Lola agreed. ‘It’s that dead priest leading you by the hand. Spine-tingly!’
‘I think we should visit the herbarium tomorrow.’
‘I think we should call Veda. Anyway, I’m going to like wash my hair and do my nails and stuff. Just in case I run into Raz again.’
‘You’re mad.’
Lola chortled and disconnected. Maya wandered around the room, feeling restless. She wished she could visit the herbarium immediately, find the key, open the box and hand over the bottle to Professor Kekobad.
Then hang up her Shadow Hunter shoes forever. In this case, her prim, beige bellies.
‘Tomorrow morning, first thing,’ she promised herself. Then, to cheer herself up, she tried on the sometimes cobalt, sometimes shamrock skirt with her new black tank top and even newer shoes. Then she added the glimmering violet beads that Lola had picked out, combed out her hair, applied eyeliner and checked in the mirror.
A stranger looked back at her. A radiant, mysterious stranger that she’d certainly never met before.
CHAPTER 41
Veda was bent over a ludicrously large, hardbound book when Maya walked into Lecture Room 113 on Monday morning.
It was still early and the room was almost empty. Two of the Crystals were racing to complete an assignment. A couple of boys were watching a video on a phone, snickering and saying, ‘Too good, too good.’
Denzil was sitting at the very back of the room, watching the door. He had the hangdog look of a boy who’s made a bad mistake. When Sharanya entered the room he scrambled to his feet and dodged past desks and benches to get to her.
‘We’re on for the social, right?’ he asked.
Sharanya tried to walk past, but Denzil was determined. He held her by her tanned wrist and steered her to a window at the back of the room. ‘Talk to me for two minutes,’ he pleaded. ‘Sharu, we can’t let that female destroy everything.’
Maya gritted her teeth. Time to stop gawking. She had her own apology to make, and with frogs in her tummy, she walked towards Veda. ‘Veda, I’m really, really sorry,’ she said.
Veda continued reading, an unyielding figure in maroon.
‘Please Veda, I’m dying to tell you what I found yesterday.’
Veda continued reading. But her shoulders hunched.
‘Veda, listen for just a minute.’
Veda shut her book with a loud and dusty snap. ‘Why do you want to talk to me now? You have your Lola. Why are you disturbing me?’
‘Veda, please …’
‘Have you heard? Wagle died last night. Those Shadows of yours killed him just because he didn’t know where to find Father Lorenzo’s diary. I hope you feel good knowing that you are consorting with cold-blooded killers and kidnappers. Just go away.’
Maya felt very hot and then very cold. She could not bear to think of Wagle just now. Instead she focused on the words that Veda bandied about so effortlessly. Did people really use words like ‘consorting’ in everyday conversations? Or had Veda prepared her speech in advance? She pushed the irreverent thoughts away and grovelled.
‘Veda, please, please. The only way this can end is if we find the keys and finish it. This time, the Shadows decided to push and manipulate me. Next time it will be you.’
Veda stared stonily ahead. ‘I thought we were a team.’
‘We are a team,’ Maya wailed. ‘It was really stupid of me not to tell you. But we can never find the last key without you. We really, really need you.’
It was the right thing to say. Veda’s shoulders relaxed just the slightest. ‘Why do you need me?’ she asked, gruff but no longer hostile. ‘What can I do that you can’t?’
Maya rushed into the tale of the musical clues. ‘Dagga, Cabbage, Fabaceaea, Fagaceaea and Bacca all seem to be leading to the Ebbe Herbarium,’ she concluded. ‘Only you know anything about the herbarium. I wouldn’t even know where to start looking. Please Veda.’
‘We have 10 minutes for class to begin,’ Veda said, resentment melting away. ‘Let’s take a quick look.’
Putting down her book, she barrelled her way out of Lecture Room 113 and led the way to an outpost where Maya had certainly never ventured. Down corridors and up a rough stone staircase. ‘How many staircases does this college have?’ Maya wondered, as she trailed behind Veda’s stocky, confident figure.
Veda halted at the top floor, in front of a solid door. ‘The Ebbe Herbarium,’ she said fervently. ‘It’s one of the most special places in St Paul’s. It is considered one of the best herbariums in the country. There are dried specimens and sketches of 200,000 plants.’
&nb
sp; ‘Wow,’ Maya said, because Veda clearly expected some response. Then she pushed open the door, and let out a heartfelt ‘Wow.’
The Ebbe Herbarium was a high-ceilinged, white room suffused with the smell of old paper and dried plants. Every single wall was lined with wooden cubbyholes containing folios. Fat, bulging folios stuffed with secrets. The room looked like a sorcerer’s eyrie – alive with arcane knowledge and herby magic.
Two students in lab coats pored over a folio that lay open on the table, revealing a plant that had been pressed and stuck onto thick paper. ‘There are two more rooms like this,’ Veda said with evident pride. ‘Anyway, what exactly do you want to see? We need to get back to class.’
Maya looked around with mounting panic. She felt bewildered, thinking of the many places that a key could be hidden in this herbarium, with its innumerable hidey-holes. There was something they had overlooked. Father Lorenzo would never leave an incomplete trail of clues. He was a man who believed in details – and she had missed a critical detail.
‘What have we overlooked?’ she wondered as they retraced their steps to Lecture Room 113.
‘What have I neglected?’ she asked herself, while Professor Kekobad organised his lecture.
Preoccupied and disappointed, she could muster only a vague smile when Lola waved and blew her kisses. ‘Raz may be dropping in at lunch,’ she hissed across three benches. ‘So I’m taking the morning off from … umm … you know what.’
She pointed at her red strappy shoes, with skyscraper heels. ‘Not very convenient for sleuthing. Do you think my new perfume is too much? Amour Amour. The name is great, but do I smell like a duty free shop?’
‘AAAchooo, AAACCCCHHHHHOOO.’
The class jumped as Professor Kekobad sneezed so violently that Maya thought his bones would crack.
Lola cringed. ‘My perfume?’ she whispered. ‘I better get out of here before he throws me out. I forgot all about his allergy.’
Lola scuttled away, and Professor Kekobad wiped his rheumy eyes and glowered at the students. He sniffed for a minute and then started his lecture. Maya returned to her conundrum. There were six bars of music and six words. So what was she missing?
What Maya Saw Page 24
