Gravel Heart(72)

The soldier without the cap, whom I could now see was the senior of the two, did not look impressed.

‘What about?’ he asked.

I dropped my eyes deferentially to suggest that, with all due respect, I could not discuss the matter with him. These powerful people are always doing something they shouldn’t and I thought if I made it seem that I was doing some dirty work for the deputy minister’s son, then the soldier would not ask too many questions. When I looked up I saw the bare-headed soldier reach into the guard post to retrieve his beret. He fanned himself with it a couple of times before putting it on. He glanced at his watch and gave me a long scrutiny before reaching into the guard post again to retrieve a heavy-looking black phone. He held it in his hand for a few moments, his head cocked to one side, and then reluctantly seemed to reach a decision. He was not happy with what he had to do. He asked for my name and retreated out of earshot before making his call.

To my complete surprise, Yusuf was at the gate within minutes. I had expected to wait or perhaps be given an appointment, but he was there, calling me inside as if he did not want us to be seen from the road. He stopped right there in the yard, with the gate ajar, in sight of the guards. He must have guessed that some trouble had brought me to the house, which I had not been to before and would not have dared to visit in other circumstances. As we shook hands he gave me a reassuring pat on the shoulder, like a teacher confronted by a nervous student.

‘You are welcome. How can I help?’ Yusuf said.

‘My brother Amir was taken away by two men in a white Datsun with government plates,’ I said, speaking in a whisper although there was no one nearby to overhear. I raised my voice and spoke properly. ‘We think he has been arrested. We don’t know why, or where he has been taken, and we don’t know who to ask. I have come to ask for your help.’

We had known each other since primary school where we used to compete and to share books, and of course play coram together in later years. At one time we had looked a little alike, and people had taken us for relatives with the same large eyes and lop-sided smiles, the same dark complexion, but then I put on a spurt of growth while Yusuf remained short and plump and our similarity disappeared. After I finished speaking, Yusuf nodded and said: ‘Amir, your wife’s brother.’

‘My wife’s brother is my brother,’ I said.

‘What has he done?’ Yusuf asked.

‘I don’t know. I have no idea.’

We looked at each other in a long moment of silence, two young men who had known each other all our lives and still felt a residue of the friendly affection we had shared as children. Well, I did anyway, and I think Yusuf did too, because he nodded and said, ‘I’ll try to find out. I don’t know if I will be able to but I’ll try. I’ll have to speak to Baba. Come to the office tomorrow and check with me. It will be easier to speak there.’

‘What time?’ I asked, using the same business-like tone as Yusuf.

‘Make it afternoon. It will give me more time,’ he said.

As we stood in the yard just inside the gate of Yusuf’s father’s mansion, I saw the extent of the fa?ade of the house, with its windows and balconies and hanging baskets, and how the drive continued down the left-hand side of it, perhaps towards the garages and the pool and the gardens. I did not know how far back the grounds went, and how many wings and outhouses they accommodated. It was a different world from the paltry one I knew, with its cramped rooms and exhausted furniture and ineradicable smells.

On the way home with my news, I went over the encounter with Yusuf. Was he a little unfriendly? Cold? He could have just told me that he couldn’t help, and he did not do that. Was there a tone of distaste in his voice when he said Amir’s name? And what was the meaning of that correction, saying Amir was my wife’s brother and not mine? Was it a way of saying that because you are a friend, your brother would have had a claim on me but your wife’s brother does not? Yusuf could not know that Saida was everything to me, and could not know how much what mattered to her, mattered to me. Perhaps Yusuf was one of those people Amir had offended in some way.

The next day, I went to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and waited in the reception area as I was instructed. The receptionist sat at a large desk with a telephone and a few scraps of paper in front of her. On the wall behind her was an airways wildlife calendar and above that a row of photographs showing the President in the middle and a host of dignitaries either side of him. The large barred window beside her was open, letting in light and a hot breeze from the road. If I made the slightest move she looked up from her desk to see what I was doing. She had no reason to be watchful, her glances were intended to intimidate. I tried to sit quite still. After what seemed a long wait, perhaps because I had to sit so still, Yusuf came out, dressed in a white shirt and no jacket, shaking hands and smiling, looking every inch a young diplomat. When he shut the door to his office, the smile faded and his face turned stern; maybe he even looked displeased. He did not sit down and did not invite me to sit either. This was going to be brief. We were in a small airy upstairs room with a view of the sea, and through the open window I could hear the sound of traffic below. I thought it would be a nice office to work in. I watched as Yusuf went to stand by the window.

He said: ‘Your brother has been arrested for raping an under-age schoolgirl.’ He waited for me to speak, his face wearing a sneer of distaste. When I did not say anything, because I was shocked speechless by this announcement, he continued, ‘Not just any under-age schoolgirl either, but the youngest daughter of the Vice-President. That is how her family will tell the story because they are so angry. They will say that he raped her, although possibly there was no coercion, maybe they both knew what they were doing. That’s all I’ve been able to find out. It was difficult enough. I can’t help you more than that. I don’t know any more and I don’t want to have anything to do with this matter.’