‘Is anything wrong, Kels?’ Nanna asked.
‘Just tired.’ Kelsey’s voice sounded flat and quiet. She didn’t want to say how ill she was starting to feel. Instead, she asked about the story.
‘Will Rubi get better, Nanna?’
‘I hope so, as long as Asher can buy her some medicine.’
‘But that means Rubi has to give up Amy Jo.’
‘Yes, but she will understand I think. It is important to get better and she has loved the doll. It was kind of Asher to give her that experience, don’t you think?’
Kelsey thought about it. Would it be better not to see the doll and then Rubi wouldn’t miss her? Or would the memory of Amy Jo make Rubi happier?
Asher let Rubi keep Amy Jo for two days. He crawled into the cardboard box to sleep with Rubi on the second night. He waited until morning before he told his sister the news.
‘I have found a man in the bazaar who may give me a good price for the gudiya. I will be able to buy you a new shalwar qameez to wear and medicine for the whole year. Your lungs will get better now.’
Rubi smiled but there were tears in her eyes. She took a clip from her hair and fastened it into Amy Jo’s.
‘Why are you doing that?’ Asher asked. ‘That was Ummie’s hairclip. It’s the only thing you own.’
‘I want the gudiya to have something of me since she has helped me so much.’
Asher nodded and gently lifted Amy Jo from Rubi’s arms. Since Amy Jo couldn’t make tears she blinked her eyes instead. She would have liked to see Rubi get well, and to hear more songs.
‘You’re a good doll,’ Asher said as he carried her. ‘You’ve made my sister happy. That alone will help make her better. I’m sorry to sell you but we have to live. I hope you understand.’
Amy Jo blinked her eyes at him as he walked to the bazaar.
The bazaar was full of stalls with bright, pretty cloth blowing in the wind and huge hessian bags brimming with coloured spices. Asher was jostled by the crowds and Amy Jo thought she would slip out of his hands. Finally he stopped in front of a small shop. An old man in a white cap sat cross-legged on a rug in front of a sewing machine.
‘Here is the gudiya, janab.’ Asher handed the old man Amy Jo.
Asher held his breath as he watched the man check Amy Jo’s hair and clothes. There were scratches on the doll, her dress was ripped and she was dirty. Would that matter?
The old man looked up at him. ‘You have spoken truly, beta. This is a special doll from England. She is called a porcelain doll.’
He pulled a purse from his qameez pocket. ‘Here is your payment.’ Then he added, ‘May your sister get well.’
Asher counted the money. ‘Shukriya, janab.’ He placed his right hand over his heart in thanks.
The old man put aside his sewing work and measured Amy Jo. She wondered what would happen. Would he put her in a box?
He took off her boot, her socks and dress, and washed her with a damp cloth. It was good to feel clean again.
She lay on the bench beside spools of thread while he cut a pattern for a little shalwar qameez from burgundy silk. He threaded a needle and began stitching along the tiny seams.
‘It is a long time since I have made an outfit for a little princess like you.’ He smiled as though he remembered a happy time long ago.
When he finished stitching he dressed Amy Jo. He plaited her hair and put in Rubi’s clip. He then measured some white leather and cut out a tiny boot. It was different from the other one. ‘It is not perfect but only Allah can make a perfect thing.’
Amy Jo didn’t mind. It was good to feel properly dressed again.
The old man unfolded his legs and his bones creaked as he stood up. ‘You can sit up on the shelf. Now everyone can see how beautiful you are.’
Kelsey was not well. Since waking, she’d vomited three times and had to run to the toilet twice. She didn’t even care she had to squat. Her head felt as if someone were hitting it with a hammer.
‘I’m worried, Len,’ her mum said. ‘It’s the floodwater. Imagine how many amoebas are in it. She’s probably got a bug in her intestines.’
Her dad nodded. ‘I got that when I lived here as a child. I’ll buy the medicine.’
Kelsey was more worried about not seeing Shakila and Raza. Was he all right? ‘Dad, can you find out if everything’s okay at Shakila’s house?’
‘Sure thing.’ Then he added, ‘That was a brave thing you did to save Raza. You could have been swept away yourself.’
At the time Kelsey had forgotten how dangerous the floodwater was. All she had thought of was Raza.
Kelsey hated waiting all day for news but at least something interesting happened. Six ladies visited the house and Mum taught them how to sew.
Her dad had bought two Singer sewing machines a week ago and had set them up in the lounge. Kelsey had never seen machines so old. They didn’t even use electricity. They were pumped by a foot pedal to make the needle go up and down. Kelsey found it fascinating to watch her mum work it.
‘We will practise on tablecloths and sheets,’ Mum said to the ladies, ‘since all your things were lost in the flood. Then we will make clothes.’
Kelsey was too tired to help so she rested on the couch and listened. She could even understand some words the ladies said. She told her mum, ‘They’re scared of the needle in the machine.’
Mum smiled at the ladies to show there was nothing to be frightened of. She showed them how to use the pedal and keep their fingers away from the needle. One lady had sewn with a machine before and helped show the others what to do.
By the end of the afternoon each lady had made a tablecloth and a sheet to take home.
‘When we leave for Australia,’ Mum told Kelsey as the ladies left, ‘we’ll give the machines to the women to start a sewing business. They’ll be able to make money for their families.’
Kelsey lay on the couch with the laptop. Mrs Penner had downloaded some ebooks for her to study. She was reading one about a girl who disappeared into paintings on the wall to save her family in the past.
After a while Kelsey could hear her father outside thanking Izaak in Urdu. She put the laptop aside and managed to walk to the open doorway. ‘Dad.’
‘Salaam ji, miss,’ Izaak said. His eyes were bright and watery when he looked at her.
‘Salaam ji, Izaak.’ Kelsey said it as well as Shakila now. Izaak touched the top of her head as a blessing.
‘How is Raza?’ she asked.
Izaak tilted his head, but remained quiet.
Dad answered instead. ‘He’s sick like you, Kels, though much worse.’
Just before dinner Kelsey rang Nanna Rose.
‘Nanna,’ she cried when Nanna Rose’s face appeared. ‘Raza fell in the river and now he’s sick.’
Her father knelt beside Kelsey to see Nanna Rose as well. ‘Actually Mum, it was Kels who pulled Raza out. Now she has a nasty bug too.’
‘I’ll pray you both get better quickly,’ Nanna Rose said.
Kelsey nodded, thinking she should tell her class in Australia about Raza. They might be able to help.
Then Nanna Rose said, ‘I’m running out of names for the story, Kels. What’s your favourite Pakistani name?’
Kelsey didn’t have to think twice. ‘Shakila. She’s my friend.’
Amy Jo sat on the shelf watching all the people pass by. This shop was very different from the Teddy Bear Shop. There was no glass and the shop was open so she could see the lane where everyone hurried and jostled about. She saw ladies in shawls with babies and children, and men with turbans wrapped around their heads. Lots of children stopped to stare at her. The old man didn’t tell them to move away. He kept sewing clothes. Some children even pointed at her. But none of them looked as if they had enough money to buy her. So here she was again – on a shelf, wa
iting. At least the man loved her. He spoke to her each morning when he came to work.
‘So my princess, did you have a good sleep?’
Amy Jo blinked at him.
He smiled and she saw the gaps where he used to have teeth. ‘I’m glad I have you for company – I was getting lonely.’ He sighed as he sat cross-legged in front of his sewing machine. Amy Jo watched the back of his head and wondered who he was making clothes for today.
It was almost time to close the shop when a man and a girl walked by.
‘Wait, Abu.’ The girl stepped backward. ‘Look at the gudiya on the tailor’s shelf. She looks like a Bollywood actress in that shalwar qameez, ready to dance. She would make a first-class gift.’
‘Shakila, this is a Western doll. It will be too expensive.’
‘And how much has been given back to us?’
The man was silent a moment. ‘You are right, beti, my daughter.’
He stood in front of the old man’s shop. ‘Janab, for how much will you sell the doll?’
The old man saw how the girl waited for his answer. ‘Fifty rupees.’
The father and his daughter exchanged a glance. ‘Are you jesting, janab?’ asked the father. ‘I thought you would say five hundred.’
The old man smiled. ‘I was going to keep her for myself, but I see you have more need of her.’ He slowly reached for Amy Jo.
Amy Jo liked the look of the girl. She seemed kind.
‘Shall I wrap her?’ the old man asked as he put Amy Jo’s old dress in a little paper bag to keep with her.
‘Yes,’ the father answered. ‘She is to be a special gift.’
Kelsey was sick for nearly two weeks. She hated taking the medicine. It made her head feel like it was splitting. Once the medicine was finished she felt better but she was so weak she wouldn’t be able to swim even one lap of a swimming pool. Now it was Thursday and Mum was in the kitchen sewing.
She smiled at Kelsey. ‘Are you feeling a bit better today?’
Kelsey nodded.
‘I’ve got something to cheer you up. A parcel has come from Australia.’ She put it in front of Kelsey.
‘Wow.’ Kelsey read the sender information. ‘It’s from Mrs Penner.’ She ripped it open. ‘It’s the pencils and exercise books!’
Kelsey looked at her mum. ‘Mum?’
She lifted her eyebrows at Kelsey. ‘Would you like me to take you to the tent school?’
‘Yes, please.’
‘Then get ready. I hope you’re well enough.’
Kelsey ran to get dressed and was ready to leave the house in under twenty minutes.
At the water’s edge Mum found a young man to taxi them across the river in his boat. He used a long pole to push the boat along. It went faster than Kelsey thought it would.
It was fun taking her mum to the school. She introduced her to Miss Parveen and then Kelsey told Shakila and the girls about her class in Australia and how they had raised money for pencils and exercise books. She put them on Miss Parveen’s desk. ‘And also medicine,’ Kelsey said, hoping enough money for medicine would come soon. ‘But you need to get that from my mum at the clinic.’
The girls were quiet at first and then Miss Parveen said, ‘Thank you very much, Kelsey.’ Suddenly the girls clapped and Shakila and Fozia gave Kelsey a hug.
Later in the afternoon, there was a loud call from outside. Kelsey could hear her dad at the door. ‘Salaam ji, Waheed, Shakila. Come in.’
‘Salaam ji,’ Mr Waheed said.
Kelsey smiled at Shakila as she walked into the lounge.
Mr Waheed didn’t say why they had come so Kelsey’s mum put the kettle on to make chai. Kelsey arranged biscuits on a plate. She knew Shakila liked savoury snacks with chai too, so she put some salted peanuts in a bowl. She carried the food to the coffee table while Mum brought the teapot on a tray with cups and saucers.
Mr Waheed and her dad were talking about building the houses.
‘It’s good to have strong foundations and cement rooms,’ her dad said.
‘Ji, and later they can build on when they are able.’
Kelsey’s dad nodded.
Mr Waheed stopped talking business and asked Kelsey if she enjoyed living in Pakistan. Kelsey was glad he didn’t ask her this when she first came.
‘I do,’ Kelsey said. ‘I especially like being friends with Shakila and your family.’ Then she couldn’t stop herself from asking, ‘Is Raza better?’
Mr Waheed glanced at Shakila. ‘Actually this is why we have come.’
Kelsey felt a prickling sensation curling up her spine. He sounded very serious.
‘Raza is much better,’ Mr Waheed said, ‘and we want to thank you for giving him back to us.’
‘Oh.’ Kelsey was so relieved Raza was okay that she didn’t know what to say at first. ‘I only did what anyone would do.’
‘We do not agree this is what anyone would do,’ Mr Waheed said. ‘We think you are a very courageous person and we need to thank you in a proper way.’
‘Shukriya,’ Kelsey said, thinking that was the end of it.
Shakila stood up, gave Kelsey a hug and kissed both sides of her face. Then she gave Kelsey a gift. It was wrapped in brown paper with string. ‘I know you will like this,’ she said.
Kelsey hugged her back and said thank you. She put the gift on the coffee table and tried not to look at it. It was a hard thing to do.
In Australia if Chantelle gave her a present Chantelle would say, ‘Open it, open it now, Kels!’ But Kelsey knew Shakila wasn’t waiting for her to open the gift. Her dad had told her if she received presents in Pakistan not to unwrap them until the people had left.
There was more talk about the building and who would carry on her father’s work when they went back to Australia.
Kelsey told Shakila she was well enough to visit again tomorrow and Shakila squeezed her hand and grinned. ‘I’ve missed you,’ she said.
After they left Kelsey picked up the present. It wasn’t heavy. She shook it. It didn’t sound like lollies.
Her parents sat on the lounge and watched her.
‘What do you think it is, Kels?’ her dad asked.
‘I don’t know.’ She wondered if it would be biscuits. Shakila and Raza were fond of anything sweet. ‘I can’t wait to find out!’
She pulled off the string and ripped the paper. ‘Oh,’ she gasped.
‘What is it?’ Her mum leaned forward.
Kelsey couldn’t believe what she was seeing. It just wasn’t possible.
‘It’s a doll,’ Kelsey whispered. She picked it up. ‘A porcelain doll.’
‘I didn’t think they were made here,’ Dad said.
‘She’s got golden hair. And a burgundy silk shalwar qameez—’ Kelsey paused, then said in a rush, ‘She looks just like Amy Jo. How can that be?’
Mum looked at her sharply. ‘You mean, Amy Jo from the story Nanna’s been telling?’
‘Yes, Nanna’s story about the doll with golden hair who is sent to Pakistan but gets lost and has adventures on her quest to find someone to love.’
She touched Amy Jo’s face. ‘See, she’s been scratched, just like in the story. There’s a tooth mark on her forehead.’ She turned Amy Jo over and lifted her qameez.
‘Look!’ she squealed. ‘There are stitches on her body as if she’d had rips. Nanna said in the story a dog bit her.’
‘How odd,’ Mum said. ‘Let me see. What a beautiful doll she must have been.’
‘She still is,’ Kelsey said. ‘And look, one boot is different from the other. In the story an old man makes this shalwar qameez and a new boot. And see, the other has embroidery thread for a lace. Zebi crocheted that.’
She traced her finger over Amy Jo’s hair. ‘And here is Rubi’s clip!’
Kelsey looked up to find
her parents staring at her strangely.
She opened a little paper bag that was lying under Amy Jo. ‘Mum, it’s her original dress.’ She took it out. ‘The one Nanna Rose said she wore in the shop. It’s got pink-and-white stripes and lace. And it’s watermarked and ripped.’
Kelsey stood up, close to tears. ‘I have to talk to Nanna Rose.’
Mum looked at her watch. ‘She’ll be cooking dinner, she mightn’t hear the call.’
‘Can we try, please?’
All three of them sat in front of the laptop to wait for Nanna Rose. It was taking ages.
‘Maybe we should try later,’ Mum said.
Kelsey shook her head. ‘Please can we keep calling?’
Finally Nanna Rose was there saying hello and asking how Kelsey was.
‘I’m much better, thank you, Nanna, but look!’ Kelsey held up Amy Jo.
Nanna Rose gave a huge smile. ‘Ah, so the doll has arrived at last. I was despairing that the postal service wasn’t working because of the flood and she was lost. Did they deliver her to your house?’
‘Nanna, what are you talking about?’
‘She’s your birthday present of course. That’s why I told you the story, so you’d know her when she arrived. I chose her because she looks like you.’ Nanna Rose sighed happily. ‘I’m so glad she came in time for your birthday.’
Nanna Rose squinted at Amy Jo. ‘I see you’ve made a new outfit for her already. That’s clever.’
‘But she can’t be my birthday present.’ Kelsey could think of only one question. ‘Nanna, how did the story come true?’
Nanna Rose was startled. Her eyes grew wide and she said, ‘Whatever do you mean, Kels?’
Kelsey showed her the marks on Amy Jo’s forehead, the stitches on her body, the boot, the lace, the clip. ‘And I didn’t make this shalwar qameez, Nanna. She came like this.’
‘Wait a minute, Kels. I’m confused. Tell me how you got her, again.’ Nanna Rose’s voice sounded quiet and tense.
‘Nanna, the story came true. A man and a girl gave her to me. It was Shakila, my friend. They must have been the ones who bought her in the bazaar. Nanna, how did you know?’
Kelsey and the Quest of the Porcelain Doll Page 4