What Maya Saw

by Shabnam Minwalla

  ‘I hope Raz didn’t mind coming early to get us,’ Maya fretted, twisting the beads with agitated fingers.

  ‘Of course not,’ Lola laughed. ‘Please. Wipe that gloomy-doomy look off your face. It doesn’t go with Raspberry Ripple lipstick. Raz thinks the professor needs to see you for an assignment. He’s feeling very sorry for you. You go and meet Professor Kekobad with Veda. I’ll hang out with Raz and try and warn you if the Shadows or Charles Brown or Father D’Gama are coming your way.’

  ‘Thanks Lola,’ Maya said. ‘Aadil will also be on the look out. We’ll definitely be done in half an hour. In time for me to meet Sanath at the gate.’

  Lola waved to Raz, who jogged back to them with a wink. Then, taking a deep, uneven breath, Maya followed her friends into the dusk-cloaked corridors of St Paul’s.

  The social was being held outside the canteen, where plump, orange globes cast a mellow light and the music system was being tested. Lola and Raz wandered off for a Coke. But Maya waited in the empty, unlit quadrangle, beneath gargoyles and a watchful window. The chapel was dark and locked for the day, but a feeble light emanated from Professor Kekobad’s office. Maya checked her Raspberry Ripple-coated lips in a tiny silver mirror and waited for Veda, tapping her foot to the Beatles in the deepening twilight.

  ‘Hey Jude, don’t let me down

  You have found her, now go and get her

  Remember to let her into your heart

  Then you can start to make it better

  Better, better, better, better, better, whoa!’

  The song seemed to be speaking to her.

  Maya pulled out her phone and spotted a message from Lola. It had been sent just a minute ago, and Maya assumed that something was wrong. She tapped the message and then laughed with relief and affection.

  Lola had sent her the image of a red mail van and a smiley.

  ‘My lucky day. A red mail van. Hey Jude. And you for a friend,’ she typed in reply.

  The quadrangle had turned to slate grey, and the music system had taken a break when Veda finally arrived, puffing and agitated. Her red dress was dramatic against the somber backdrop, a grim portent. ‘Aadil reversed into a policemen,’ she panted. ‘That’s why we’re so late. Luckily, Aadil is dressed today as Jawaharlal Nehru. He quoted the Tryst with Destiny speech to the policeman. Have you told Professor Kekobad that we want to talk to him?’

  ‘No, I thought we’d meet him together,’ Maya replied, as they headed yet again to the unwelcoming office that adjoined the chapel. ‘Gosh, it feels like we’ve spent half our lives in this poky room. Let’s be quick today. I always feel the smell of old books and medicines gets into my hair.’

  Veda rapped on the door and stepped into the office, startling the professor who was sitting in the miserly light of a 40-watt bulb. The room was dreary enough by day. By night, it looked like a medieval prison cell. The kind of place they must have kept traitors and blasphemers, before chopping off their heads. Or boiling them in wine. Or whatever they did.

  ‘God, I’m a merry cherry today,’ Maya thought. ‘The perfect party mood. Snap OUT!’

  Professor Kekobad was much brighter than his little cell. ‘Very nice, very nice,’ he remarked, with uncharacteristic jollity. ‘Tonight, you must have a good time. Don’t waste your time with old men and ancient conundrums. Give me the keys and go enjoy yourself.’

  ‘But we have something very important to tell you,’ Veda interrupted. ‘We found out something very frightening today. We think we know who may have the third key.’

  The professor cleared his throat and examined the girls through thick, distorting lenses ‘Who?’ he asked, reaching out for his glass of water with a tremulous hand. ‘What is left now? I thought we were at the final chapter of this story?’

  Veda sat down on the rickety chair, and began her bizarre tale. ‘Many years ago, there was a famous history teacher at St Paul’s. His name was Professor Karl Brun and …’

  ‘Did he ever teach you?’ Maya asked. It struck her that Professor Brun and Professor Kekobad may well have been at St Paul’s at the same time.

  ‘Brun?’ Professor Kekobad asked with a doubtful expression. ‘Now that you mention it. He was around, but I never had much to do with him. But what about him? He must be long dead.’

  ‘Not if he’s a Shadow,’ Veda announced in ringing tones. ‘He’s come back to St Paul’s in disguise. As Professor Charles Brown.’

  Professor Kekobad’s reaction was gratifying. He dropped his glass of water. ‘How can you say such a thing?’ he scolded, surveying the mess on the floor. ‘You’re libelling an eminent historian.’

  ‘Karl Brun was an eminent historian too,’ Maya said. ‘And Karl Brun to Charles Brown is not such a big jump. We saw his picture in a book, and we’re pretty sure. He’s probably working with Father D’Gama. They always seem to be together.’

  ‘It all fits,’ Veda agreed. ‘The only thing that’s odd is that Maya never noticed anything Shadow-like about him.’

  Professor Kekobad had recovered his equilibrium. He tucked his chin into his chest and gave the matter his full attention. ‘You just may be right,’ he sighed finally. ‘Father D’Gama invited Charles Brown to visit the college and the two of them are collaborating on a paper. It’s entirely possible that they are working on something else as well.’

  Maya and Veda exchanged triumphant glances. ‘So now what do we do?’ Veda asked. ‘How do we find the last key?’

  ‘I’m extremely disturbed by this development,’ Professor Kekobad said, standing up to indicate that the discussion was over. ‘Let me give the matter some thought. We will talk tomorrow morning. Off you go to enjoy the evening.’

  He held out his hand again, and Maya remembered the keys that were burning a hole in her bag and her tranquillity. She was digging her fingers into the constricted pocket when she heard the sound. Faint but sickeningly familiar.

  Somebody was beating a soft tattoo – the sound that had haunted Maya’s dreams.

  Rat tat tat TAT

  Rat TAT rat TAT

  ‘What’s that?’ Maya startled. ‘That sound?’

  ‘What sound?’ Veda and the professor asked together.

  ‘That rat-a-tat-tat,’ Maya said, looking around wildly. But there were no little girls with empty eyes in the office.

  Still the sound continued. Close, but not too close. There but hardly there.

  Rat TAT TAT TAT

  ‘It’s coming from the chapel,’ she exclaimed, looking at the always-shut door between the office and the chapel.

  ‘The chapel is locked, Maya,’ the professor remonstrated. ‘I fear that this adventure may have been too much for you. Too much proximity with darkness is difficult to handle. Give me the keys, and Veda, perhaps you should take her home.’

  Veda looked stricken. She was about to obey when she too froze. ‘I can hear it too,’ she said. ‘Like somebody knocking on wood. Professor, we have to get into the chapel. Quickly.’

  ‘We will need to call Brother Francis to unlock the chapel,’ Professor Kekobad said, reaching for his phone. ‘But I’m not convinced.’

  ‘Can’t we just use this door,’ Maya asked, indicating the interconnecting door.

  ‘It may be locked,’ the professor objected. ‘I’ve never used it. It must be stiff and rusted. I would rather you didn’t.’

  Maya ignored the professor. She was done with his dos and don’ts. She walked up to the door, twisted the knob and gave it an experimental push.

  Instantly, the door swung open onto the pitch-black belly of the chapel. The rat-a-tat stopped.

  Maya quailed as profound darkness seeped into her head. She could feel the skinny, cold fingers of evil snatching at her from the thick black void and could do nothing to resist.

  It was Veda who pulled out her phone and shone the torch into the chapel. The weak beam picked out the outline of the piano, the shape of the pews, the altar.

  It also picked out a man whose blond hair glinted in th
e torchlight. And the small shape of a child.

  Professor Kekobad was the first to speak. ‘Who’s there?’ he quavered. ‘Charles Brown? You have no business here. Who are you, really? Are you really Karl Brun?’

  There was silence for a beat. Then the cut-glass British voice replied, ‘I beg your pardon. Am I breaking college rules? I was just studying the ornamentation in the chapel.’

  ‘When the chapel is locked?’ Professor Kekobad challenged.

  ‘In the dark, Professor Karl Brun?’ Veda scoffed, before hissing to Maya. ‘For heaven’s sake, turn on the lights.’

  Maya inched into the room, feeling the wall with her right hand and holding on to the keys with her left. Through the sooty smog in her head, she remembered that the switches were somewhere near the main door of the chapel. She ventured slowly into the blackness with its coiling, slithery secrets.

  While she stumbled towards the door, Veda spoke in a confident voice. ‘Professor Karl Brun, we know everything. And you should know that our friends are all outside. We are not alone.’

  Charles Brown didn’t seem the slightest bit discomfited by this turn of events. He merely laughed. ‘This is inconvenient. I had hoped to wrap up this evening without a fuss. But I may need reinforcements now. Maybe it’s time to fetch the others.’

  Immediately, soft footsteps pattered through the chapel and the child-sized figure emerged from the darkness, thrust the professor aside and charged into his office.

  Professor Kekobad fell with flailing arms and a distressing clatter. ‘Leg, my leg … is it broken?’

  He groaned, just as Maya’s hand found what it had been seeking – three podgy, old-fashioned switches. ‘Please work,’ she begged under her breath, and turned them on in quick succession. In an instant, the chapel was flooded with light.

  Maya looked around with trepidation. Charles Brown was alone, next to the flat, stone surface of the altar. On the altar was the silver box. Next to the silver box was a small key – the triplet of the two that she held in her sweaty palm.

  Next to the key was a gun.

  Charles Brown saw Maya falter and drawled, ‘How kind of you to deliver the keys personally. Please step forward and place them on the altar.’

  ‘We don’t have the keys,’ Veda replied with a telltale tremor in her voice, while Maya shoved the keys back into the green bead bag.

  ‘That’s easy enough to ascertain,’ Charles Brown replied, dropping his languid Hugh Grant act and picking up the gun instead. ‘You don’t survive 150 years and a dozen different lives without learning a few lessons. The first is that people tend to lie more than they speak the truth.’

  Maya’s hand was still in her bag when her phone rang, sharp and shocking. She answered automatically and heard Lola yelling above booming music. ‘The kid in the tutu … Shadows … on their way … careful … what should …’

  ‘Drop it. Drop it,’ Charles Brown shouted, his face contorting. ‘Drop your bloody phone. You—fat girl who wants to study in Oxford—come and stand next to Maya. Kekobad, you don’t pose a danger at the moment but don’t do anything stupid. Tonight Charles Brown will disappear and become someone else. I have nothing at all to lose. I will kill all of you.’

  Maya dropped her phone. Panic and hopelessness clogged her head. It was already 7.30. Sanath would be waiting for her at the gate. He would think he had been abandoned again …

  Maya was paralysed with despair and terror. She barely heard Veda’s mutter. ‘Wake up. Help me a bit.’

  Veda’s irritation and Sanath’s face pushed the clouds aside for a second, allowing a shaft of light and love. And in that tiny respite, Maya understood what was happening.

  When she looked at the other Shadows, she could see their wrinkles, their bones, their horns. But when she looked at Charles Brown she didn’t see blood and bones. Instead she peered into his soul – and she experienced the corrupt, writhing emotions of a creature barely human.

  Outside, someone was jangling the padlock on the chapel door. But Maya concentrated on the battle in her head. Shutting her eyes she thought about Sanath’s shirt against her cheek. Lola’s giggle. Her mother’s nimbu pani. Mr Pinkwhistle’s goofy grin. And, just like that, the toxic fog in her head dissipated. ‘You can’t take me away from me,’ she declared. ‘You can’t fill me with misery and confusion.’

  She opened her eyes as Amara and Minty swished into the chapel, all silk and shimmer. Then Owais and Aniruddh in jackets and ties. Two figures hovered at the door – a woman in green and a girl in a ponytail and pink tutu.

  Ponytail. Pink tutu. Ponytail. Pink tutu. Suddenly, Maya spotted the recurring theme of the last fortnight.

  She gazed at the little girl and recognised her. Not just as the uninvited visitor of the night before, but as a player in a longer drama. A figure who’d been there from the beginning, in her ponytail and sticky-out skirts.

  This was the girl who lived in the apartment in Sea View – the one across from her bedroom window. This was the little girl who was always underfoot, always around. The spy that Maya didn’t spot because, like most teenagers, she didn’t bother with children. Because, like most people, she thought that little girls in pink tutus were sweet and inconsequential.

  The spy, who could look straight into Maya’s bedroom. Who could wander in and out of her compound. Who knew when Maya was home alone.

  Suddenly, other pieces of the puzzle began to click into place. Maya watched the Shadows carefully. How much did they know?

  ‘What’s happened, Charles?’ Aniruddh was asking. ‘Have you found the third key?’

  Charles Brown ignored him. Instead, he instructed Amara. ‘These two girls have been tricking us. They have two keys with them. Search their bags, their clothes. Find those keys.’

  Minty and Amara looked uncertain. ‘But I have the other two keys,’ Minty protested. Her voice had lost its babyish lisp and acquired a faintly European accent. ‘You know that Charles.’

  ‘They lied to you,’ Charles Brown snapped. ‘They substituted the keys. I just found—’

  Whatever Charles Brown wanted to say was drowned out by Maya. ‘He’s lying. He found the third key days ago,’ she cried. ‘And he knew that you had the wrong keys. He sent that little girl to my house last night to try and frighten me into giving the originals. He’s double-crossing the rest of you.’

  ‘Don’t you wonder why he was lurking around the chapel when the rest of you were at the social? Or why he spends so much time with Father D’Gama?’

  ‘Quiet,’ Charles Brown thundered, holding up his gun.

  Everybody obeyed for a second, till Owais sauntered up to Charles Brown. ‘I thought we were a team, Charles. After all, we are the last Shadows left. We have been working together for years. We should be sticking together. So why are you in the chapel? And why are you pointing that gun at me?’

  Minty, ethereal in sky-blue chiffon, piped up, ‘Who is Father D’Gama?’

  Charles Brown turned to Minty for a fraction of a second, and in that moment Amara pounced. She lunged at him and bashed his head against the stone slab on the altar. Blood spurted from his forehead and the gun flew from his hand, falling with a loud thud next to Professor Kekobad. The professor reached out for it, but the girl in the pink tutu got there first and handed it to the woman in the green dress.

  The woman stepped out of the dim doorway and into the chapel. The Girl with Green Eyes.

  She waved the gun with a practised air. ‘Minty, get the two keys from those girls,’ she said. ‘Let’s hurry. People will start wondering what’s going on here.’

  Amara bound Charles Brown’s hands with Owais’ silk tie. Minty advanced upon Maya and Veda. But Aniruddh was watching the scene with narrowed eyes.

  ‘Chhaya, did you guess that Charles was double-crossing us?’ he asked.

  Maya looked up with a jerk of her head.

  The Green Eyed Girl was Chhaya. Chhaya was Sanath’s mother. Her worst fears were confirmed.

  Mean
while, Aniruddh continued to poke and prod. ‘Did you really send the child to Maya’s house? How come we weren’t told?’

  ‘I had my suspicions about Charles,’ Chhaya said, unruffled. ‘But we can talk about this later. Over the next 100 years. Not now.’

  On the floor of the chapel, Maya’s phone rang.

  Minty was searching Veda’s pockets. She leaned over, saw the name of the caller and sneered. ‘Look who’s calling,’ she tittered. ‘Sanath. Well, loverboy can wait. Turn off the bloody phone, Maya.’

  Maya picked up the phone and, in a moment of recklessness, accepted the call. ‘Sanath, chapel, chapel,’ she bawled, before Minty slapped her and flung the phone across the room. Maya could taste blood in her mouth as Minty hit her again and again.

  ‘Leave it, Minty,’ Chhaya said, holding the gun firmly. ‘We can manage Sanath. Just find the keys. NOW. Hurry. Before things unravel even more.’

  Minty grabbed both purses, upended them on the floor and crowed. The two keys lay on the yellow stone floor of the chapel, amidst lipsticks, perfume bottles and packets of tissue. Minty scooped them up and put them on the counter.

  The other Shadows hurried to the altar, and gazed at the keys with prayerful faces. They hunched over the silver box, while Chhaya held the gun in an easy grip.

  Charles Brown stirred and moaned. Professor Kekobad remained limp. And Maya thought it was all over.

  Then she saw something move just outside her line of vision. She glanced towards the door to Professor Kekobad’s office and turned away. Chhaya caught the movement and looked back, but was too late.

  Sanath flew at Chhaya and grappled the gun from her hand. Then he looked around, stunned, at the prone professors and dishevelled Shadows. ‘Are you OK, Maya?’ he asked. ‘Should we get some help? The police, I don’t know …’

  ‘That’s a great idea,’ Veda said. ‘Please point the gun at Amara and company, and let’s get hold of the three keys. Then we can lock them in the chapel and call the police.’