Vijay ran and helped December hide the folding bed.
‘It’s the army, isn’t it?’ December whispered, hiding himself behind the gunny sacks as best he could.
Vijay looked at him. He didn’t want to say it out loud, lacked the words to comfort him, the danger right outside their door.
‘Be careful, don’t put yourself at risk for me,’ said December. ‘I mean it.’
‘We’ll be fine,’ Vijay said, smoothing out any signs of panic in his tone. ‘Don’t worry, they won’t get anywhere near here.’ He quickly shut the door before December could reply and rushed back to the kitchen, heart swelling with every beat, pulsing through every vein. Should he stand right by the door? No, too aggressive. Rest his hand here against the table? No, too relaxed. There was no right way to behave in a situation like this. So he stood with his back against the wall. Like waiting in front of a firing squad.
Pran’s voice, grave and low, along with two others that didn’t belong. The slow thud of footsteps, the familiar creak of the door in the hallway.
The first thing he saw was the rifles, standing to attention along the soldiers’ backs. The tips of the guns glinting in the light like cold eyes. Pran seemed to have shrunk as he stood next to the two men with their badly fitted khaki and their slanted berets. The strangers filled the space; it was Pran and Vijay who didn’t belong now.
The first soldier stared at Vijay with heavy-lidded eyes. He wasn’t much older than Pran but his close-cropped hair was flecked with grey, and he moved his neck slowly, like a tortoise, as he looked around the room. The other soldier, younger, broad-faced with hazel eyes, came closer.
Shoulders proud, head high, Vijay told himself.
The broad-faced soldier spoke, his breath laced with the sharp, chemical smell of waragi. ‘You want to show us around.’ It wasn’t a question but a command.
‘Look, we’ve got some cash in the other room, thousands of shillings,’ said Pran. ‘Please take it.’
But the soldiers were already walking out into the yard. The younger soldier tried to light a cigarette, but his fingers kept slipping from the expensive-looking silver lighter. ‘Eh, there’s something wrong with this lighter,’ he said.
‘No, there’s something wrong with your head, David,’ said the grey-flecked soldier. He slumped his body when he moved, curled shoulders, hips low. He had a go at lighting it too, but still it didn’t work.
Pran took a matchbox from his pocket and lit a match for them, the flame lighting up every worry line on his forehead. David, the younger soldier, nearly burnt his hand, unsteady on his feet as he held the cigarette close to the flame. The two comrades talked amongst themselves, the younger soldier muttering about the stars, pointing out the Southern Cross with his finger. For a moment, December’s words rang in Vijay’s ears. Young soldiers with little money, little choice. What would that soldier have been in another life? A teacher, a map-maker?
Vijay and Pran exchanged a look. What now? Did the soldiers know what they were doing either? The stench of alcohol gave them the answer.
‘This is the sitting room.’ Pran pointed, trying to direct them towards the money in the hope that they’d leave soon.
But the older soldier turned his slow neck from the kitchen towards the storeroom. ‘Eh, you got any whisky, anything to drink?’
‘I’ll get some.’ Vijay hurried to the sitting room, decided against taking a whole bottle outside and poured it into two glasses instead. The last thing they needed was the army utterly drunk on the veranda. Even if they passed out, the idea of them slumped like gunny sacks in their house for hours didn’t appeal either. He rushed back outside with the drinks, drops of whisky spilling as he went.
‘How many rooms do you have?’ said David, looking around the yard.
‘Six.’ Pran answered quickly, omitting the storeroom that would have made seven.
‘Show us.’ The soldiers started walking towards the sitting room.
They wandered about, laughing at the soapstone knick-knacks that Jaya had gathered in her glass cabinet, picking things up, throwing them in the air a couple of times. Vijay stayed by the door. Pran stood against one of the walls, back flat, as though he was trying to disappear into it.
The soldier picked up a gilded photo frame from the side cabinet. ‘Eh, where are they?’ He was tracing his finger over Asha’s face, a photo from her wedding day.
‘They’ve already gone, they left ahead of us. We’re sorting out the last of the paperwork before we join them,’ said Vijay.
‘Got rid of the women. Having fun without them, I’ll bet.’ The young soldier giggled like a schoolboy.
Growing bored of the room, the two army men walked outside. Vijay’s room didn’t seem to interest them much but his heart sank when the younger soldier said he’d take the record player on his way out.
The only place left on this side was the storeroom, the door hidden in the gloom. From where they stood on the veranda, there was a chance they hadn’t seen it at all.
‘There’s not much else, to be honest.’ Pran tried to say it lightly but Vijay knew him too well, his voice tinged with tension.
David lit another cigarette. He inhaled, then stepped towards the storeroom.
‘Aren’t you going to leave now?’ The words burst out of Vijay’s mouth before his mind had a chance to catch up.
Pran stared at him. The soldiers too.
‘What?’ said David, turning towards him.
‘Did you come here for something in particular?’ Vijay’s breath quickened. Whatever happened, he wouldn’t let them reach the storeroom.
David threw his cigarette down and rushed towards him, grabbing Vijay by the shirt, the seam of the collar cutting into his neck.
The soldier’s face was inches from his. ‘What did you say?’
‘Please, he didn’t mean it. He’s been drinking too.’ Pran tried to get closer to them but David’s comrade shoved him back.
‘Eh, you have a big mouth to make up for the rest of your cripple body.’ His breath sour, his voice low.
‘Like I said, when are you going to leave?’ They wouldn’t find December, nor Jaya and Asha. There was no way.
The soldier clutched the back of Vijay’s shirt, dragging him back towards the veranda, earth scattering under Vijay’s feet, dust flying into his eyes.
The last thing Vijay saw was the wall hurtling towards him.