Kulwinder looked up in surprise. ‘Your husband? I thought he was …’
Manjeet shook her head. ‘He left me. Then he wanted me back. I went to him thinking it was my duty but all he wanted was somebody to cook and clean after his new wife ran off. Once I realized it, I packed my bags and came home. The whole journey on the train, every time I felt anxious about what I had done, I just remembered that the other widows and Nikki would be cheering me on.’
Kulwinder felt a pang of regret. ‘This wouldn’t have happened if the women had been in this building. I shouldn’t have sent them away.’
Manjeet stepped over the papers and put her arm around Kulwinder. ‘Don’t blame yourself. Nobody can stop these fools.’ She took a moment to look around the room. ‘I thought the Brothers had more respect than to break in and destroy things like this, especially in the gurudwara.’
Kulwinder crouched to the floor to pick up a folder and, noticing its contents were soggy, she recoiled. The acrid smell of urine wafted to her nostrils. She stepped back to the doorway and felt a surprising sting of tears in her eyes. She wiped them away furiously. Manjeet had a point. The Brothers were capable of vandalizing the cars and homes of women gone astray but temple grounds were sacred. From this distance, Kulwinder could see that everything had been tossed around a bit too deliberately, as if to give the impression of senseless vandalism.
‘Did they even find the stories?’ Manjeet asked.
Kulwinder shook her head slowly. ‘You’re right – I can’t imagine the Brothers doing this.’
‘Then who?
Kulwinder was about to reply when the open desk drawer caught her attention again. It was completely empty, unlike the others. It was the right-hand second drawer, the only contents of which had been Nikki’s CV and job application. She recalled clearing that drawer of its dusty old files after Nikki applied for the job, pleased to have her own official paperwork to store away.
Kulwinder searched the floor. The CV, the application, Nikki’s personal particulars … Panic began to rise in her throat.
‘I think I know,’ Kulwinder said.
Chapter Sixteen
A fierce wind stung Nikki’s face as she paced the pavement outside O’Reilly’s, smoking her third cigarette. She had certainly earned this one after struggling through that session with the women, the revelation about Jason turning in her mind. A group of men passed by and one looked back. ‘Give us a smile, luv,’ he called out. In the window of a passing bus, Nikki could see her reflection, her face knotted with rage. She glared at the man, who gave his friend a nudge and strolled off, chuckling.
Making her way up the stairs to her flat, Nikki’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She stopped on the stairwell and answered.
‘Go to hell, Jason.’
‘Nikki, please, let’s just talk.’
Nikki hung up and had an urge to hurl her phone out the window just so she could break something. She carried on up the stairs and reached for her keys. Now the tears began to pour, splashing onto her hands as she fumbled through her pockets. She didn’t notice Tarampal standing there until she reached the top step.
‘What …?’ Nikki started. With the back of her hand, she wiped the tears from her eyes.
‘Are you all right, Nikki?’ Tarampal asked. ‘What happened to you?’
‘It’s a long story,’ Nikki muttered. What are you doing here?
Tarampal reached out and gave her a squeeze on the shoulder. ‘You poor thing,’ she said. Her pity felt genuine and gave Nikki a bit of comfort but she still could not hide her bafflement. Had Tarampal heard about the classes in the pub and decided to join? It was unlikely. She nearly laughed at the absurdity of this situation: here was Tarampal at her doorstep, comforting her over her apparently married boyfriend.
‘I was wondering if we could have a chat,’ Tarampal said. She looked expectantly at the door.
‘Oh. Uh … sure,’ Nikki said. She opened the door to the flat and showed Tarampal in. ‘You don’t have to take your shoes off,’ she said, but of course, Tarampal did before hesitating in the doorway. ‘Please, make yourself at home,’ Nikki said, suddenly conscious of the inadequacy of her hosting skills. She gestured at the small table in the kitchen. Tarampal stepped daintily through the flat in her bare feet, startled by the noisy floorboards. ‘Have a seat,’ Nikki said. Tarampal remained standing. A bra had been slung over one of the kitchen chairs; Tarampal stared at it until Nikki removed it and tossed it into her bedroom. A lighter and a pack of cigarettes were also displayed in full view. Nikki decided that removing them would draw more attention.
‘Nikki, I think you have the wrong idea about me,’ Tarampal said when they were both seated.
‘Is that what brought you here?’ Nikki asked. She wondered how Tarampal had got her address. Tarampal looked so woeful that Nikki refrained from asking. ‘I don’t have any ideas about you,’ Nikki added.
‘I think you do,’ Tarampal replied. ‘I think the widows told you that I’m not a good person. It’s just not true.’
‘Is it true that you take money from people in exchange for prayers?’ Nikki asked.
‘Yes, but they come to me. They want help.’
‘That’s not quite what I heard.’
Tarampal lowered her eyelids and shuffled her feet like a schoolgirl being reprimanded. Gone was the embittered mother-in-law of the dishonourable Maya. She had been replaced by this lonely, helpless creature, the same person whose illiteracy had compelled Nikki to bring storybook tapes to her home. ‘How would you survive, Nikki,’ Tarampal asked, ‘if you were a widow with no skills? Didn’t I try to learn English to become employable? You and the women turned me away.’
It just didn’t make sense, Tarampal coming all the way here just to clear up some misconceptions. ‘What is it that you want, Bibi Tarampal?’ Nikki asked.
‘I’d like us to be friends,’ Tarampal said. ‘I really would. All those things I said about Maya, they must have scared you off. You must think I wanted her to die. What kind of person would that make me? I just wanted peace in my home. I wanted Jaggi to be happy. I never expected Maya to take her own life. This is something Kulwinder will never accept.’
‘Can you blame her?’ Nikki retorted. ‘Her daughter died under your roof.’
‘At her own hands,’ Tarampal said. ‘She was unwell, Nikki. Her mind was not right.’ She tapped her temple with her fingers and nodded knowingly. Nikki realized that this was not a practised gesture; Tarampal was telling the truth she knew. Whatever story Jaggi had spun, she had bought it.
‘You don’t think something else might have happened that night?’ Nikki asked.