‘Have you had lunch?’ asked Janiki.
‘Yes. Well, I went to a restaurant with Gita and had a bite but I couldn’t eat much. I feel sick. But you must be starving – I take it you haven’t eaten? It’s nearly three. Let’s go.’
They walked down the stairs to the hospital’s entrance lobby. Kamal stopped, and stared. And then he rushed forward.
‘Caroline!’ he cried. ‘And, oh my God, Asha! Asha, my sweet, there you are! You’re safe!’ He gathered his daughter into his arms. But Asha pushed him away. She rushed forward, and practically leapt into Janiki’s arms. ‘Janiki, Janiki, Janiki!’
And they were both laughing and hugging and kissing. Caroline looked at Kamal, rather shyly. ‘Don’t take it personally, Kamal. She needs time. Remember how close she was to Janiki.’
Kamal nodded, but said nothing.
Janiki and Asha stopped hugging and Janiki said, ‘Asha, that was very rude of you not to greet your daddy. Come on now and say hello. He’s been so worried about you all this time.’
And she led Asha back to her father and Kamal held out his arms and Asha, very slowly, smiled at him and said ‘Hello Daddy.’ And they hugged, not in the wild and overjoyed way Kamal had wanted but in a reserved and polite way. And Janiki stroked Kamal’s arm and said, ‘It’s all right, Kamal. It will be all right.’
And Kamal nodded, though his heart was breaking. And then it was Caroline’s turn to hug everyone.
‘Yes,’ she said tiredly. ‘She’s safe. We’re both safe. I’ll tell you the whole story later. Right now I’d like a doctor to see her; she’s got wounds all over her back.’
‘You should take her to Dr Ganotra first to be registered for the Safe Haven programme,’ said Janiki. ‘That’s the way it’s done. He has an office here. I’ll take you there. He’s here right now. Come on.’
A while later, she and Kamal left Caroline and Asha in Dr Ganotra’s office and set out once again for the lobby, heading for the postponed meal. On their way down the corridor they passed a woman in a white coat, a stethoscope around her neck. ‘Doctor! Doctor, stop a moment,’ cried Janiki, ‘I’d like you to meet Kamal. He’s the fellow who rescued Ragi. Kamal – this is Dr Pratima Nath-Willard. She’s the one who examined Ragi! She’s fantastic! Got her to talk a little!’
Dr Nath-Willard was a woman in her late fifties; huge brown eyes assessed Kamal and reflected the warmth of her smile.
‘Pleased to meet you, Kamal. You’re quite the hero, you know. That girl – she’s been terribly abused. But she’s recovering well, and slowly telling us about her wretched life. You will have to talk to social services, tell them what happened, describe the father and so on – they’ll try and find him to raise charges of child trafficking but most likely nothing will come of it: they won’t find him. She’ll go into care. We have a few good orphanages in Mumbai.’
‘What if – what if someone came forward, and wanted to adopt her,’ said Janiki tentatively. ‘Wouldn’t she be better off in a family?’
‘Oh, definitely. In particular, she needs to regain her trust in men. She needs a loving father. Desperately. Someone who—’
Suddenly grasping the subtlety of Janiki’s words, she stopped speaking and looked from her to Kamal.
‘Is this’ – nodding at Kamal – ‘Is this your…’
Kamal and Janiki locked eyes in the pause. Kamal’s eyes asked a question, Janiki’s eyes gave the answer, accompanied by a very slight, almost imperceptible, bobble of her head.
‘Fiancé,’ said Kamal. ‘That’s right. And we’d like to submit an expression of interest. Where do we do that?’
Dr Nath-Willard smiled. ‘The social worker dealing with her case will take down your particulars and she will do the needful,’ she said. ‘Congratulations.’