The Cambridge Curry Club

by Saumya Balsari

  Swarnakumari asked, ‘What are you saying?’

  Heera’s voice rose. ‘She thinks I’m a bloody thief! You heard, didn’t you, just now? Girls, she is saying I am a thief!’

  ‘Are you sure?’ asked Swarnakumari.

  ‘Yes. You know how she is. First she ticked me off again for opening the shop ten minutes late. It was only ten minutes. You three were standing outside waiting for me and you didn’t complain, so what’s her problem? Then she changed the subject, talking about the thief and Thursdays, so smooth, and she said, “Do be extra careful, watch the customers today, and don’t forget to report anything unusual,” but girls, I know she meant me.’ Tears of outrage shimmered in her eyes.

  Swarnakumari trembled. ‘A thief in the shop today? What will he do to me?’

  ‘Let’s see, the thief could be male or female, of any age, size, shape, weight or colour, shabby or well-dressed, a batty old man, a student, young mother, anyone at all. Or maybe there’s a whole gang out there. But I doubt anyone would want to attack you, Swarna, for reasons that I won’t go into now,’ said Durga comfortingly.

  Heera called out impatiently, ‘Girls, girls, aren’t you listening? What d’you think I’m telling you? She suspects me! Who the hell does she think she is? I’m telling you, I’ve had enough now. I live a comfortable life, and I am not doing this for the money. I took this job only because I needed to sort something for myself in my mind. Looks like I made the wrong choice, didn’t I? I ended up sorting other people’s rejects instead. What’s a charity shop, after all?’

  ‘A symbol of the Diaspora, failed dreams and of what we can’t have or hold any more, a domain of collective hope and renewed, recycled life,’ said Durga.

  ‘I come here for a laugh, the customers give me respect and I help deserving people in India, but now this is a question of my reputation. I’m not leaving until I’ve cleared my name.’

  There was silence in the shop as the women absorbed the significance of Heera’s announcement.

  ‘She hasn’t exactly accused you—’ began Durga, but Heera interrupted fiercely, ‘You wouldn’t be saying that if she had talked to you instead of me. And that thin, cutting voice of hers like sharp ice …’

  Swarnakumari soothed, ‘Heera, some people are like that only. You cannot change them, so you have to protect yourself. What is the point of getting angry? Guru Ma says anger always destroys. It will eat and eat inside, and you will be the one to suffer. And in every situation you must always think of why the other person is acting like that, na. Guru Ma explains this very well in her chapter on understanding. You know the word “understand”. It means to “stand under”, to feel how it must be inside the other person’s skin. We must try to understand Mrs Wellington-Smythe. I think she has some problems. She is not looking happy – something is wrong.’

  ‘You could be right, Swarna,’ Eileen admitted.

  Heera was incensed. ‘What? Are all three of you taking her side? All this Guru Ma stuff has made mango pickle out of your brain, Swarna. How can you feel sorry for Lady Di, of all people? I feel really let down, girls. What is this behaviour? If you were in my place, I would definitely support you.’

  ‘We are supporting you, but what can we do?’ asked Swarnakumari without conviction.

  ‘Chors, bloody thieves run around in this world doing dishonest things, but no, that Lady Di has to catch me instead. I’m telling you, I’m going to do something about this. I’m wondering now – what if this thief really does come in on a Thursday, just after we close the shop at five, just so it doesn’t look suspicious?’

  Swarnakumari was sceptical. ‘But how can a thief break in just like that? People would see, na.’

  Heera silently absorbed the truth of Swarnakumari’s words. Mill Road was unlike other roads in Cambridge in that there was life after dark; soon after the bookbinders had closed and the florist had stored away the buckets and unhooked the yellow and white striped awning, the pawnshop had reluctantly locked its doors and the charity shops had removed any precious items from their windows, the curry houses and restaurants rolled up their shutters, ready for the evening trade.

  She spoke slowly, voicing her thoughts. ‘Yes, but what if the thief is so clever he isn’t breaking in? He must be coming in some other way, but how?’ She continued, ‘Tell you what, we are going to find out, girls. Today after we close the shop we’ll stay on a little longer, and see what happens. And don’t you dare say you’re not going to wait; if you’re my friends, you’ll help me.’

  It was Eileen who was the first to agree.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  What goes up must come down

  EILEEN OPENED THE shop door on her way out to buy stamps at the local post office at the moment when a frail old lady entered, holding a large purse, and headed purposefully for the counter, settling on the chair at the till.

  ‘Madam, you can’t go there, that area is for staff only. May I help you?’ asked Heera.

  ‘Eh?’ The elderly lady adjusted her hearing aid, and slowly removed several folded carrier bags from her purse. She set them out on the counter; each was meticulously flattened into a neat square.

  Heera whispered to Durga, ‘Why does she have so many carrier bags? D’you think she plans to steal something?’

  ‘No, she looks plain batty to me. And too feeble to carry away the video recorder. She can’t possibly be the thief.’

  ‘Yeah, she looks like she’s not wired right. She needs carrying herself. She reminds me of my Aunty Buddi Mai. D’you know what Aunty said to me when I got married? “Just make your home so happy that your man wants to come every night to your bed.” Poor Buddi Mai – they say she poisoned her husband’s second wife,’ confided Heera.

  Durga was staring intently at the elderly lady. ‘Was your Aunty Buddi Mai as dozy as this one?’

  Heera shrugged her shoulders in incomprehension. ‘Maybe it’s a trick, and she’ll suddenly wake up and start nicking things when we’re not looking.’

  Durga peered closer, giving the old lady a nudge. She slumped lower. Durga felt her pulse. ‘She certainly won’t need anything from the shop where she’s going. Not even an old cardigan.’

  ‘What?’ asked Heera, startled.

  ‘Well, it’s not far, is it – six feet under.’

  ‘Talk straight, Durga.’ Heera walked away to a corner near the display window, beckoning. ‘What are you saying?’ she hissed.

  ‘One could, of course, ignore random disruptions, refute the notion of finality and adopt a metaphysical determinant of consciousness. All right, she’s dead,’ said Durga.

  ‘Dead? The old lady? Oh my God, what a situation!’ Heera pulled herself together. ‘All right, so we ring. Who do we ring first? Lady Di or the police? Should we call an ambulance? But what about Swarna?’ She paused before continuing briskly, ‘The thing is, sales have been slow all day, and this old lady, bless her soul, is already dead, so we could wait a bit before we tell anyone, right? Or does that sound too mean?’

  Durga shook her head.

  ‘So then, let Eileen and Swarna just carry on as usual. We need them to act normally.’ Heera was thinking rapidly. ‘But what if Swarna sees the old lady? She’ll either scream for England or wash her hands ten times. No, Durga. You and I will have to put the old lady somewhere out of sight for now.’ Heera cast a desperate glance around the shop. ‘It will be safe in the changing room. C’mon.’

  The two swiftly heaved the body onto the wheelchair and propelled it into the changing room, zigzagging their way through the clothes racks, and then returned to the till. Meanwhile, Swarnakumari turned to another customer and asked, ‘Tell me, do you come in on a Thursday only, or other days also? What about this coat – you like it? Nice colour, na? Come with me, there are many more in this section. We have a changing room if you want to try on anything. We sold a new Marks & Spencer cardigan just last week, otherwise I could have shown it to you.’

  Heera and Durga fled to the changing room to whe
el the body out.

  Heera warned, ‘That silly Swarna is taking this whole thief thing so seriously she will send all the customers to the changing room just so that she can check their belongings. Such an eediot! She’s ruining everything. Maybe we should tell Eileen when she returns. That way at least she can stop Swarna messing up.’

  ‘Too late for all that,’ said Durga. ‘Let’s just take the old lady to the window.’

  ‘Brilliant. Yeah, let’s do that,’ agreed Heera in relief.

  They wheeled the body into the display area while Swarnakumari attempted to interest the customer in a Royal Doulton figurine. Heera was panting as they reached the window, and fumbled with her free hand to retrieve a ringing mobile phone from her trouser pocket. ‘Yes, Bob, what is it? Jaan, do you realise what a difficult position I’m in right now? I really can’t talk now. Bye.’

  She turned to Durga, still breathless. ‘Sorry about that. It was Bob.’

  ‘Men! They never get the timing right,’ replied Durga.

  ‘Here, pass me the blond wig,’ urged Heera, and she placed it at a rakish angle on the elderly lady’s head.

  ‘I know blondes have more fun, but are you sure the timing’s right for her?’

  ‘Pass me the hat. Quickly, that long scarf too – it will be good for covering her face,’ hissed Heera. ‘And that cardie there. I’ll drape it over her arms.’

  Durga murmured as she bent over the corpse, ‘Forgive me, for truly I know not what I do.’

  Swarnakumari pointed to a porcelain shepherdess. ‘What about something like this for your mother’s next birthday? I know what you must be thinking, but do you know, you really can save a lot of money when you buy from here. We keep only quality things in this shop, and many times they are completely brand new. I would not work here otherwise, na.’ She spotted the pram. ‘Oh, nice large pram, you can put many things next to the baby. Can I just see how much space you have got inside?’

  A well-dressed customer entered, along with Eileen, who began to shadow her, but the woman took a dislike to being trailed and left immediately.

  Struggling with the body in the window, Durga cried indignantly, ‘Hang on a sec, that’s my cardigan! How did it get here? I left it right there on that chair when I went out for the milk.’

  ‘Strange things happen. In this shop, in life and death,’ murmured Heera. ‘We’ll sort it out later, Durga. Let’s just leave it on her for now.’

  The two hastily left the window display area and returned to the till as the shop bell tinkled and Swarnakumari’s customer departed. Swarnakumari was relieved. ‘I checked. That customer was not the thief, hanh! We are safe.’

  The shop bell tinkled again, and a dapper man entered, nursing an umbrella with a wooden handle. ‘Oh hello,’ he began nervously. ‘I was just passing by the window when I saw …well, I was wondering if you could show me the binoculars you have there. And the blond wig too, if you please.’

  ‘Yes,’ replied Eileen.

  ‘No. There is no wig there,’ denied Durga.

  ‘Oh, but there is! It’s on your mannequin. Shall I show you?’ asked the customer.

  ‘Please don’t, I’ll get both for you. Kindly wait here. Durga, could you take the gentleman to the counter?’ asked Heera hastily.

  The wig was removed and brought to the counter along with the binoculars. Durga tenderly wrapped the wig in a carrier bag belonging to the elderly lady.

  ‘Thank you so much for helping IndiaNeed today with your purchase,’ chorused Heera and Durga, escorting him to the door.

  ‘What was that all about?’ demanded Eileen curiously. ‘Why are you two behaving so strangely? Has everyone gone mad in the shop today?’

  Heera stared meaningfully. As soon as the last customer had left, she snapped, ‘Quick, Swarna, it’s five! Turn the shop sign to Closed. Lock the door, Durga, and Eileen, turn down the blinds! Swarna and Eileen, switch off the lights and then go to the Staff Area, we’re coming too, in just a minute.’

  Swarnakumari looked bewildered, Eileen looked suspicous, but following Heera’s instructions both obediently disappeared behind the curtain. Heera and Durga raced to the window and wheeled the elderly lady backwards, propping her frame upright in the centre of the shop. They followed Swarnakumari into the Staff Area and waited in the dark. Time passed.

  ‘Heera, we have been just sitting for fifteen minutes already. What is this – how long are we to wait? I cannot even phone Your Uncle to tell him I will be late, because he will tell me to come home immediately. I always make hot food for him and Mallika, na. And Heera, now I am thinking, why did that customer want the blond wig? He had so much of his own hair. He was asking for the binoculars, but then why did he only buy the wig? Could it be he is the thief and it is his disguise?’ Swarnakumari jumped, startled. ‘What was that?’

  ‘What?’ asked Durga.

  ‘That sound. At the back.’

  Durga was reassuring. ‘Only a ghost.’

  Swarnakumari emitted a strangled sound. ‘A ghost!’

  ‘Oh, didn’t I tell you? The charity shop has been erected on troubled ground. It was built at the very spot where a student was hanged for troublemaking in 1265 by order of the King’s Justices. Up until the sixteenth century, several undergraduates were living in lodgings around the town. His wandering ghost is still seen in the shops of Mill Road. He has a frayed piece of noose around his neck,’ explained Durga. ‘Perhaps the thief is none other than the ghost? Incidentally, did you know Peterhouse had an eighteenth-century ghost? A Mr Dawes, the Bursar. Hanged himself.’

  ‘I am not staying now. You are frightening me, Durga.’

  There was a thud. Swarnakumari squealed.

  ‘That must be a poltergeist,’ said Durga.

  ‘Hanh?’

  ‘Haven’t you ever heard of them, Swarna?’ inquired Eileen.

  ‘Peterhouse once had a poltergeist, too, apparently. They had to remove it from a student’s room,’ said Durga with relish.

  ‘What’s a polta-whatever?’ inquired Heera.

  ‘German word for noisy and troublesome spirits,’ replied Durga.

  ‘Oh, those, is that what they are called? D’you know, there were these polta-thingies in a house near us in Hyderabad. My mother’s friend got married, and she lived there with her husband and his mother-in-law and his two brothers and three sisters. Poor thing, she was very young, and she had a terrible time there. Anyway, suddenly a lot of strange things started happening. When they woke up in the morning, each and every chair was smashed. Then all the clothes started getting holes. Can you imagine, all their clothes, even new ones in the wardrobe! They blamed it on the daughter-in-law,’ said Heera.

  ‘Naturally,’ said Durga.

  ‘But then they realised she couldn’t be doing all those things by herself. In front of their eyes there were solid objects flying in the air. Once a heavy teak cabinet just lifted by itself and walked to the other end of the room. Then the dishes got smashed, and they heard loud bangs. The lamps used to swing, there were electrical fuses, and then the funny voices started. They heard male and female voices giving curses. The family got really frightened. The police didn’t really believe these people, but then the policeman who stayed there the night got holes in his clothes too. So then they decided that my mother’s friend must be a witch,’ concluded Heera dramatically.

  ‘Naturally,’ repeated Durga.

  ‘What happened next?’ asked Eileen.

  ‘One night those polta-thingies set fire to their clothes. My mother’s friend rushed to try and save her husband’s clothes from burning—’

  ‘Not her own? How noble!’ interrupted Durga.

  ‘And a sister-in-law just pushed her onto the flames,’ finished Heera.

  There was silence as they digested the horror of the woman’s plight. Heera’s mobile rang, and Swarnakumari jumped.

  ‘Yes, Bob …No, I think I’m busy tomorrow evening, too. The WI meeting – it gets over late. Tell you what, why don
’t you call sometime in the weekend? …Bye!’

  Heera continued, ‘Where was I? No, no, it’s not a tragedy. It could have been, but my mother was there, and she was very brave. She pulled her friend out before she got badly burned. The funny thing is, my mother used to be very shy and meek, and now suddenly she just yelled at her friend’s in-laws. Afterwards, she told everyone to keep quiet, and she began talking in a very calm voice; she was reaching out to those polta-thingy spirits. She kept telling them their work was done, and to leave everyone in peace. And suddenly the lamps stopped swinging and the fire burned out. The ashes made a very strange pattern, my mother said.’

  ‘I’m feeling very cold,’ confessed Swarnakumari in a small, shivering voice.

  ‘Then there must certainly be a ghost around. Did you know the temperature is always lower when there’s a ghost in the air? Cambridge, with all its fens and marshes, is an ideal breeding ground for them. They like the damp,’ Durga added. ‘I’ve got an idea – let’s go on a Cambridge Ghost Walk, and then we’ll all join the Ghost Club. A curry club is so predictable. Let’s tell Lady Di to call us her little “Ghost Club” instead.’

  Heera intervened. ‘She’s just winding you up. Relax, Swarna. The sound came from upstairs, can’t you tell? It’s the DIY bloke again.’

  ‘If poltergeists were in here, would they make holes in the net curtains?’ pondered Durga. ‘What would you do if the net curtains looked the same from the inside and outside, Swarna?’

  ‘Baba, enough, Durga! You don’t know when to stop. I am really frightened. I don’t like sitting here in the dark.’ Swarnakumari screamed and pointed to a shadow on the wall. ‘Look, there is a knife! Look …sticking out!’