The Disappearance. Annabel Kantaria

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      ‘It must have been hard, having twins,’ I said, thinking at the same time how I’d give anything for the chance to bring up twins of my own. ‘Pa obviously wasn’t very hands-on.’

      ‘He was very traditional. He thought his role was to provide. And he did that very well. But when it came to parenting …’ Mum laughed. ‘I don’t remember him ever lifting a finger in that department.’

      I fell behind Mum as we had to walk single file through a narrow bit of the path. It descended steeply towards the beach.

      ‘He used to take John on those “boy’s trips”. Do you remember? You know: fishing, camping. And those days at Lords watching the cricket?’

      ‘Oh yes.’ Mum turned around and laughed again, her hair whipping her face. ‘All my idea.’

      I ran a few steps to catch up. ‘What?’

      ‘I thought it would do them both good to spend time together. I used to beg Ralph to take him away.’

      ‘No!’ John used to lord it over me because he’d been picked, not me. I shook my head, recalibrating the memory. I felt slightly sorry for my brother now.

      ‘Yes,’ said Mum. ‘He was so desperate for your father’s approval. Do you remember how he used to follow him around like a puppy? It used to break my heart. I tried to distract him but he was never interested in what we were doing.’

      ‘Wow. He loved those trips. He used to count the days.’ I fell silent, remembering. ‘And then, once they were back, Pa would go back to work and it was as if the trip had never happened and John would mope about the house with a face like a wet weekend.’

      ‘I know. Sometimes I wondered if they did more harm than good.’

      I caught up with Mum once more as we emerged from the path onto the golden sand of Carbis Bay. The tide was out and the sand seemed to stretch for miles.

      ‘I don’t think so,’ I said. ‘You know, I once suggested that I went fishing with them. I thought it would be fun. But John wouldn’t even let me ask Pa. He said I wouldn’t understand because it was a “man thing” ‘. The cattiness in my laugh surprised me.

      ‘I suppose it’s only natural for a boy to look up to his dad,’ Mum said.

      ‘I guess.’

      ‘And we did our own things, too. Didn’t we?’ Mum looked at me. ‘You used to love learning how to do things around the house.’

      ‘I did,’ I said, and I thought about me standing next to Mum, pretend-ironing the hankies while she ironed our clothes; about me standing on a chair next to Mum in the kitchen, sneaking licks of cake batter while helping her make cakes and biscuits – we were probably even in matching aprons that Mum had sewn herself – the picture of ‘70s domestic bliss. Yes, she was right: I had wanted to learn everything. But, with that thought came the memory of the uneasiness that had underpinned my childhood: an unexplained sense of nervousness; a sense I’d always had that we were walking on pins; that our life was a house of cards that could topple at any minute.

      Yes, I’d been desperate to please Mum – but it was driven by a need to keep the house of cards standing. Now, looking out at the sea, I shook my head. I’d never seen it before: John had tied himself in knots to get Pa’s approval, while I’d tried, like a bumblebee banging itself again and again against a closed window, to reach Mum. I’d craved - but never got – her love.

      ‘I tried with John,’ Mum was saying, ‘but he was never interested in that side of things – the cooking and everything.’

      My realisation was too heavy to articulate. ‘His loss,’ I said with a smile. ‘These days everyone loves a guy who can cook.’

      We both laughed. Mum shook her head. ‘Look at us walking down memory lane. Come on. Let’s get going. Are you going to march me back or can we please take the train?’

       August 1972

       Bombay, India

      Audrey walks into her kitchen and surveys the scene. Ralph’s cook is at the epicentre of what looks like a minihurricane. Five of the six burners on the hob have pans bubbling on them. The oven’s on and the worktops are all in use: chopping boards, knives, vegetables, and empty dishes cover every surface. The ceiling fans are whirring but, still, the air is plump with steam.

      ‘Madam, you want taste?’ the cook asks.

      Audrey waves her hand. ‘No. No, thank you. You make Sir’s favourite?’

      ‘Haan,’ the cook nods.

      ‘Acchaa. Lovely. Thank you.’

      Audrey takes one more look around the kitchen, happy that everything’s under control.

      ‘Everything will be ready for eight o’clock?’ Audrey asks. ‘Send snacks and drinks out to the garden with Madhu, and then serve dinner in the house.’

      The cook nods and Audrey backs out of the kitchen.

      Already dressed for dinner, she drifts out of the back door and into the garden, where she stops for a second to inhale the heady scent of the night jasmine. It’s rained heavily today and this magnifies the myriad fragrances rising from the flowerbeds. Audrey breathes in deeply, this smell of earth, rain, and flowers now as vital to her soul as oxygen is to her lungs. The garden’s well-established and there’s evidence in the riot of colour and scent that it’s well taken care of by the gardener who’s worked at the house for decades. Audrey walks slowly across the lawn, gently touching the leaves and petals of her favourite blooms. In the distance, under the hum of the city, she can sense the gentle shifting of the sea. She breathes in deeply. It’ll be all right, she tells herself. He loves you.

      It’s been a tough few weeks since the attack outside the restaurant. Although the law sided with Ralph – it was clearly self-defence – he’s been tense, and Audrey’s barely slept; black circles hang under her eyes; there’s a pallor to her skin. A distance has crept between the two of them and Audrey senses that she’s fallen off the pedestal on which Ralph once placed her. Although that night has never again been alluded to, the weight of blame hangs heavy. In every breath, in every movement, Ralph lets Audrey know that he thinks what happened is her fault. If only she’d stayed in the restaurant; if only she’d done as he’d said.

      Tonight is Audrey’s attempt to make everything right once more – to win back the respect of her husband – to apologise, because, without the pedestal, without Ralph’s adoration and respect, the little emotional games he plays with her take on a darkness. They become something else: something Audrey doesn’t want to think about.

      The screen door opens behind her and Audrey turns to see Ralph standing in the doorway.

      ‘What’s going on?’ he asks. ‘We don’t have guests.’

      Audrey takes a deep breath and СКАЧАТЬ