Gravel Heart(16)

Later I grew less in awe of him without losing the feeling entirely, but finding the hole in the wall was perhaps when I first began to have doubts about my uncle. It seemed such an ugly, sly thing to do. I thought I should tell my mother about the existence of the hole, in case it should be discovered one day and thought to be my handiwork, but I did not. I never dared to look through the hole, but every now and then, when I was in the mood for their company at night, I switched my light off and took the wooden plug out so I could hear Munira and my mother in the other room, just voices and scratchings. I did not try to listen. That was how I learnt about my uncle’s plan for me.

Uncle Amir, after a sensational few years, had become a senior diplomat in the London embassy. He and Auntie Asha had two children now and the whole family were back for one of their periodic visits. Uncle Amir had put on weight, and his manner had become more deliberate, as was appropriate in a man of his eminence. There was at times something menacing in his manner, a hardness he had obscured with his high spirits and bubbling laughter. He was not as restless as formerly. He used to cross and uncross his legs repeatedly, and his dangling foot would waggle as if it had a life of its own, but now his legs were still for long moments, only breaking into a twitching frenzy for a few wild seconds now and then.

They stayed with Auntie Asha’s family when they came home but Uncle Amir had used his connections to get the old family house back. His Excellency the Minister would certainly have had something to do with it too. It was now being repaired and redecorated so next time they came they would stay there, Uncle Amir said. My mother asked if any of their things were still in the house and Uncle Amir looked pityingly at her and told her there was only junk and old rubbish there. Still, our parents would have been happy, my mother said.

Uncle Amir visited us every few days and sometimes Auntie Asha came too, but not often. When she came her talk was mostly about her children and their lives in London, how precocious were the former and how complicated and stylish the latter, how hectic and brilliant and expensive. She talked all the time when she visited, as if she knew that we wanted to hear about these things, that we were eager for them, our eyes round with admiration for their sophisticated lives. There was nowhere to sit in comfort in our house except in the bedrooms or round the dining table in the entrance room, and we sat there while Auntie Asha leant back in the chair, talking cheerfully as her bangled arm swept the air.

One evening Uncle Amir came on his own to have a talk with his sister. He announced this as soon as he arrived, glancing briefly and, it seemed, involuntarily towards me, frowning with the importance of the business he had come to discuss. That look was such an obvious clue the talk was going to be about me that while Uncle Amir was sipping his welcome tea, I went to my room, and with unaccustomed decisiveness turned off the light, put my ear to the hole in the wall and waited to eavesdrop. I guessed that if they wanted to talk hush-hush they would go to my mother’s room rather than sit in the outer room, in case I came out again.

I did not hear everything. Uncle Amir’s voice came through strongly but I could not catch very much of what my mother said. Her pitch was too low and some of what she said was mumbled or perhaps would have been completed by a gesture, but I heard enough to work out the rest. Uncle Amir said he would take me to London. I was a hard-working and clever boy, he said, and it would be a pity to waste that talent. But he would not tell me about the plan until after I had completed school and passed my examinations. He did not want me to stop working and think that the future was all mapped out for me. My mother said she was grateful but was he sure he could afford it? It would not be fair to take me so far away and then leave me to manage for myself.

‘Of course he will have to manage for himself to some extent,’ said my uncle. ‘That is the point. To learn to look after himself in the big world. What do you think everyone else has to do? What do you think I had to do to get to where I am? When I was in Dublin, I had to take summer jobs on building sites and factories and eat chips and cheap mince night after night. But no, I don’t intend to abandon the brat there without assistance. We have room in our house, and the embassy subsidy will easily absorb one more mouth to feed. When our eldest was born, I set up a trust, an insurance policy into which I have been paying money for our children’s education, and recently I added more contributions so it will cover some of his education expenses as well. He will have to get a part-time job, this is not going to be a holiday. He’ll probably not have enough money to visit home for a while either, so if you let him go, you have to be prepared not to see him for some time.’

After what seemed a long silence, when maybe they were talking softly, Uncle Amir’s voice came through again. ‘No, no, not like that. And anyway, it’s my way of paying you back for what you did for me all those years ago. Although you haven’t done too badly yourself, after all.’ He laughed loudly after he said that. I did not hear my mother’s reply. ‘It’s OK, I’ll take him to London with me. I know he’s becoming a nuisance here, causing trouble at home and getting bored, and sooner or later he is bound to turn bad. It will also be good to get him away from that feeble-minded man and give him a new start. I don’t like the way he goes to see him every day.’

She said, ‘Thank you for thinking of him. He will be grateful to you forever, as I will be.’

My first thoughts were not ones of excitement but disquiet. Uncle Amir’s and Auntie Asha’s affectations about living in London made them seem silly to me and the idea of going there to live with them was unattractive. How unbearably hot it is back here, is the water safe to drink, this chicken is so tough, I can’t eat this bread, oh all these flies, we don’t have flies like these in London. It was mostly Auntie Asha who talked like that, but Uncle Amir sat beside her and looked quite comfortable with her tone of voice, and now and then added something sneering and condescending to advance her case. Then also I had not heard Uncle Amir mention Baba in that way before, feeble-minded man, although I knew that was how most people must think of him. I had never heard that tone of open contempt used about him, although somehow it did not surprise me. It was what I would have expected a man so full of worldliness as Uncle Amir to think of someone as uncertain as my broken Baba.