The Girl Who Wasn't There Read online

  “Sounds like the pacing I already do,” I say.

  “But it’s not regular, is it? I think you do much more some days and then you’re laid up afterward. Isn’t that right?”

  “Yes. When there are things I really want to do—you know, like the writing award ceremony. I know I’ll suffer afterward, but it’s worth it.”

  “I think you should try the suggestions in this book—along with my help, of course. If you do it gradually, it should stop you from having so many setbacks. And I prescribe that spending time outside in the fine weather, watching me gardening next door, will be the best treatment ever!”

  “It’s not exactly fine, the weather,” I say, looking out at the cloudy sky.

  “But it will get better!” he assures me. “It’s pretty warm today—no chill in the air. Come on.”

  “What, now?”

  “No time like the present, as my mother always says when she wants me to clean my room!”

  “I am feeling a little bit better today. I was thinking about going downstairs. But…”

  “No buts. You have a hoodie or something?”

  I’m wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt. “I thought you said it was warm.”

  “Warm if you dress right. Come on. Take my arm if you want.”

  “No, it’s okay. I can manage.”

  I find myself on my feet, grabbing my jacket from the closet and pulling it on. I follow Nav down the stairs and for once manage to not pause for breath halfway. I worry instantly—is that a good thing or have I overdone it already?

  Nav opens the front door.

  “I need to tell Mom I’m going out,” I protest.

  “It’s done—she knows,” he says, and before I can object to the fact that they’ve been conspiring together, I am outside.

  I follow Nav around to the garden gate next door and into the backyard. There’s still a chill wind, but I like the feel of the sun on my back when it peeks out from behind the clouds. As I stand on the patio, my legs begin to ache and I look around anxiously for a bench or a small wall to perch on. There’s nothing.

  “Nav—I don’t think… I need to sit down. I’d better go back.”

  “No need—I’ll have a chair out of the shed in two secs. Should have done that first!” He jogs across the grass and returns with a lawn chair, which he quickly unfolds for me.

  Now that I’m sitting and not panicking, I can really look at the yard. The lawn is fine now, but although Nav’s done some pruning, there are still lots of overgrown and unwieldy shrubs. Long, wispy branches swing wildly in the gentle breeze as if they are looking for something to hold on to. A few daffodils have opened and some flowering bushes are stretching up to find light, like children trying to see over a wall.

  “It looks like it needs a lot of work,” I say.

  “You’re right,” Nav agrees, but he says it cheerfully and not downheartedly, like I might do if confronted by a challenge like this.

  “I wish I was here for longer so I could really get into it,” he says. “Nani’s shown me photos from years ago, when my grandfather was still alive. They both loved this garden, and it was beautiful. Would you like to see?”

  “Sure,” I nod.

  Nav is quiet for a moment.

  “You look sad,” I tell him.

  “Just thinking about how weird, but great it is getting to know my grandmother, and wishing I could have met my grandfather. Do you have grandparents?”

  I shake my head. “I did—in Poland. Babcia, my gran, was the only one I met, and she died last year. I was sad, but I didn’t know her well—visiting once or twice a year wasn’t enough to get very close. Mom was really upset, though.”

  I pause, then blurt out a question that I’m sure Mom would say was too personal. “If you don’t mind me asking, what about your dad?”

  Nav shrugs. “Never knew him—my grandparents didn’t approve since he wasn’t a Hindu, so Mom took off with him and cut contact with them. She was sort of a rebel, my mom. Then, when she found out she was pregnant, my dad went off and left her. I’ve never felt like I needed to try to find him ’cause he clearly had no interest in me. Mom didn’t feel like crawling back to her parents, so she stayed away. Now that she’s back with Nani, she regrets their falling-out and all the time they lost, especially since they’re getting along so well!”

  “Something good came out of your gran’s stroke then?”

  “Yes—and that’s thanks to you, isn’t it?” He smiles. He looks down toward the back of the yard.

  “Now, can I take you on a tour?” he asks me.

  “Tour?” I look down the yard which stretches to at least thirty yards. “I’m not…I can’t…”

  “Negativity!” he interrupts. “The enemy of progress and recovery.”

  “It’s not negativity, it’s realism,” I argue. “If I overdo it, I relapse. That’s a fact that I’ve learnt from experience.”

  “Who’s talking about overdoing it?”

  “A tour—that’s what you said.”

  “A tour of the patio!” He grins.

  “Oh. You should have said.”

  “You must worry less, Kasia. Anxiety is also your enemy. Can I get you a drink? Are you warm enough? I can fetch one of Nani’s blankets for your knees?”

  He’s seen me shudder slightly at the breeze.

  “Please stop fussing, Nav. I’m okay.” I can’t stand the thought of sitting with a blanket over my knees like an old lady. I’m beginning to wish I’d stayed at home, but once Nav starts some frenetic pruning, I can’t help laughing and he clearly enjoys having an audience.

  When he’s finished, we walk around the patio. I have to sit down again after a couple of minutes, but he continues talking, telling me his plans for the garden. I have no idea what plants he’s talking about, but I love his enthusiasm for it all.

  Mrs. G. comes out later, bringing her photos to show me. Nav fetches another chair for her.

  “My garden is helping to tear my grandson away from his video games,” she says with a smile.

  “Nah, I can do both,” Nav teases her. “Garden all day, game all night.”

  I look at the photos and am amazed to see an exotic-looking, flower-filled garden. “It’s incredible! It doesn’t look like the same garden!”

  “We tried to re-create the gardens of our childhoods in India,” she tells me. “Of course, many of the plants there won’t grow here, but we went for the bright colors we loved.”

  “I’d love to restore it,” says Nav. “School vacations don’t give you enough time to do a perfect job, but least I can make a start.”

  “Where’s your daughter?” I ask Mrs. G. “Doesn’t she want to sit outside, too?”

  “Devi’s next door,” she tells me, “chatting with your mother.”

  * * *

  When I come home, I find them sitting in our kitchen eating cake. I immediately like the look of Devi, and I can see she has the same smile as Mrs. G.

  “Hi, you must be Kasia,” Devi says cheerfully. “My mom told me about your mother’s cakes, and she’s right. Your mom’s a talented baker. She should be entering the Bake-Off on TV!”

  “Sit with us, Kasia—try some,” says Mom, smiling. I really want to go and lie down, but I decide to stay for a minute.

  “Just a small piece, Mom,” I say. “Is it one of Gran’s mystery recipes?”

  “Yes—it’s poppy seed cake. It’s not as good as Gran’s, though.”

  I sit and she places a small piece on a plate in front of me. I take a bite.

  “It’s delicious, Mom.”

  I look from Mom to Devi. Mom is looking happier and more animated than I’ve seen her for a long time. It occurs to me how isolated she must have been feeling, cut off from her friends at work and stuck at home, caring for me. I like Devi, and Mom clearly does,
too. Devi has a vibrancy, an energy about her, even though she’s sitting still. She’s wearing a top covered in colorful flowers—red, purple, and orange, like the photo of Mrs. G.’s garden. I think she will be a good friend for Mom.

  That evening, as I’m closing the curtains, I look out—and I see her. The girl. The room behind her is dark, but she’s there and she doesn’t vanish.

  I grab my phone and unfold the paper on the windowsill where I’ve written the Morse code. Using the flashlight, I flash the signal for Do you need help?, and I have to concentrate hard to make sure I do it right.

  By the time I’ve finished, she’s gone. I wonder if she understood any of it. Maybe she’s gone to get a flashlight—or her phone or iPad to look up what it means. She’ll have to come back.

  I wait and wait but she doesn’t come. Maybe flickering lights give her a headache, like they do with some people with ME. Or maybe she can’t cope with the light at all. A vampire? I can’t help laughing at myself for having this thought. I just wish I knew what was going on.

  She shone a light. What was she was doing? Flashing and flashing. She must not do this. She mustn’t. Was she trying to say something?

  Later I think maybe it is a code. A code with lights—I think I have heard of such a thing. But I have no flashlight to reply, no way to look up any code. Maybe it isn’t a code.

  Yet I am happy that she knows I am here. She cares. Maybe she only wants to tell me that there is light—that this darkness will one day end. I hope she is right.

  16

  I am out in Mrs. G.’s garden with Nav. It’s a Saturday in March, and the garden is scattered with daffodils. Nav is planting bulbs that he says will come up in the summer. He seems to have stacks of them. I look at the labels and pictures.

  “Will they really look like this?” I ask. “It’ll be amazing.”

  “I hope so!” says Nav, grinning. “Come and see the magnolia. It’s half-hidden but the flowers are beautiful already.”

  He has pruned back some of the bushes a little, but enough so that when I stop and look through the gap, I can see a tree in a clearing, clustered with pink flowers.

  I reach for a low-hanging blossom and breathe in. “It’s like perfume,” I tell him. Then the scent catches my throat and I have to step away. I can’t even tolerate nice smells these days.

  “I want to grow lots of herbs and vegetables, too,” Nav tells me. “And I’ll plant more stuff at the end of May—when there’s no risk of frost. Nani’s been sharing her knowledge—and a couple of good gardening books, too! I’ve got a lot to learn, though.”

  “You’ll be back in May then?” I ask.

  “Yes, and most weekends, too, maybe more. My mom’s getting all emotional about Nani, saying we should come and look after her,” Nav tells me. “They are getting along so well I don’t think they want to be apart. They want to make up for lost time.”

  “What—move in?” He nods.

  “Do you want to?” I ask.

  He shrugs. “I’ve got friends where we’re living, but it’s a small apartment. Nani’s garden—that makes it tempting… Oh and having you next door, of course!”

  I make a face.

  “What? You don’t want your ‘doctor’ living next door?” he teases.

  I try to imagine what it would be like having Nav living next door. I’ve never had a neighbor my age.

  “Oh—I’d probably have to go to your school, too,” he says. “What’s it like?”

  “Can hardly remember—haven’t been there for a long time!” I comment. “But if you do end up there, I can tell you who to avoid and that kind of stuff.”

  He smiles. “Thanks.”

  “If you stay, which bedroom will be yours—is it at the front, like mine?”

  “Yes—that’s where I’m sleeping now,” he tells me.

  “Have you ever seen anyone across the street, looking out the window?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “I don’t look out much,” he says. “Why?”

  “Can I tell you something,” I ask, “something a little weird?”

  “Go on,” he says, looking intrigued.

  I tell him about the girl and why I’m worried about her. I tell him how the couple denied she existed and then said she was their eighteen-year-old niece. I tell him about the abduction I saw and how I think the girl saw, too. I don’t tell him I thought she was a ghost.

  “It does sound odd,” he says. “I haven’t seen her, but I’ll have to keep a look out.”

  “I keep worrying about her,” I explain, “and then telling myself she must be okay because all the things I’m imagining—that she’s been kidnapped or something like that—seem too far-fetched. But I really want to know the truth.”

  “Maybe you could wait until the couple go out and then try again,” Nav suggests. “You could go and knock, see if she’ll come to the door and speak to you. Then you’ll get a good look at her and find out if she’s okay. And you can ask her about that woman and the car—whether she saw anything.”

  “I could,” I say. “It can’t do any harm to try.”

  “I’ll come with you, if you want?” says Nav.

  “Really? Thanks.”

  “I’ll give you my number, and you can text me when you know the people are out. If I’m free, I’ll come.”

  For the rest of the day and on Sunday I keep an even closer watch on the house, until I finally see the couple come out, get into the white car, and drive off.

  I text Nav.

  “Meet out in front in five,” he texts back.

  It takes me more than five minutes, but Nav is waiting for me when I finally get there. We cross the street, and I ring the bell on the shabby red front door. “Keep an eye out,” I tell him. “Just in case they come back.”

  There’s no answer. I ring again. Then I look through the mailbox slot. Unlike Mrs. G.’s, there is no letter guard, just a hole. It is easier to see in, but there’s nothing to see except two closed doors and the staircase.

  “Is anyone there?” I call. “It’s Kasia from across the street. I just want to know if you’re okay.”

  We wait. “If she’s there, I don’t think she’s coming,” says Nav.

  Then I hear a baby’s cry. Nav’s eyes shift to the right. He heard it, too.

  “They didn’t take the baby!” I explain. “I saw them go—and I didn’t think about it. They left the baby here. So the girl must be in there. They can’t have left the baby alone, can they?”

  “Call again,” says Nav. I do.

  Still there is no answer apart from the distant baby cries.

  “We’ll have to leave it,” Nav says, shaking his head. “Sometimes people just don’t like answering the door.”

  I don’t want to—but I know he’s right, and my legs feel like they’re going to give, anyway.

  “We’ll try again another time,” Nav says.

  She rang the bell. I did not know who it was. The door is locked—“to keep me safe.” Bad people might come. Then I heard her voice. I heard her say, “It is Kasia—from across the street.” So now I know her name, a pretty name, Kasia. She is my friend—my only friend, come to call for me.

  How good it would be to open the door, to invite her in, to make tea and have cake and sit and chat with her, show her the baby, and she’d coo at him and squeeze his chubby legs.

  She had someone with her. I heard her talking to someone. Trust no one. That’s what they tell me. It was a male voice. Who was he? Maybe he is the bad person they spoke of. Maybe he’s come to take me to another place—a far worse place than this.

  It does not matter, because the door is locked. I have no key. Does she not realize—the girl, Kasia—that I have no key?

  17

  I don’t want it to go to Nav’s head, but I think the advice from the book he gave me is making a diffe
rence. I am able to come downstairs every day and even to do some of the work Judy has given me.

  Nav has gone back home, but we text each other every day. I miss him being next door and am glad when he says he’ll be back on Friday for the weekend.

  He texts me as soon as he arrives, and I’m happy to be back out in the garden with him.

  “Guess what? You are going to be seeing a lot more of me! We are moving here to live with Nani.”

  “Wow! That’s great. Mrs. G. must be so happy!”

  “And I hope you are, too!” he teases. “Mom was worried about me changing schools midway through the semester, but your school has assured her it will all be fine.”

  “So you’ll be in my grade?”

  “Yes. I’ll start after Easter. It would be better, of course, if you were there to show me around.”

  “I wish I could.”

  We’re both quiet for a moment. I won’t be able to show him around at school, but I think I’m going to like having him next door.

  “You can tell me things I need to know, and I’ll tell you what’s going on,” he says. “And you will be back there soon. That is Dr. Nav’s ambition!”

  “Mine too!” I tell him.

  “For now, though, I need your help with this garden.”

  I look at him doubtfully. “Wait here.”

  He hurries to the house and comes back with what looks like a magazine.

  “Plant catalog,” he says, handing it to me. “I want to plant new flowering shrubs and rescue as many as I can from what’s here. I’ve already planted bulbs, and I plan to sow seeds on a big scale so there will be an amazing display of flowers for the summer. Gran says I can get a mini-greenhouse—a plastic one—so I can grow some seeds there now and transplant the seedlings in May. I will get some plant plugs, too—small plants, ready to go right in the ground.”

  “What do you want me to do?” I ask. I flip through, and beautiful flowers leap from the pages. I have no idea what most of them are.