For once someone was ‘thinking outside the box’, she claimed, ignoring the fact that the paint was turquoise because Behnaz and her nephew were stingy with their afghani. So inspired was Iman by the gate that she told everyone about a village in Indonesia where they had painted their homes rainbow colours to attract the tourist dollar. Wouldn’t it be a good idea if everyone in Shaahir Square did the same thing? When Iman pulled up photos on her phone she had to concede that the Indonesian village might have gone a little overboard with their cans of paint. Shaahir Square didn’t need to be so radical – at least until everyone got used to the idea, Iman had argued. She suggested everyone painted only their door or gate a rainbow colour to begin with. ‘Imagine,’ she said, ‘if Shaahir Square became famous and tourists flocked here from all over the world?’
There were those who weren’t so sure this argument furthered Iman’s plan for her ‘Rainbow Shaahir Square’, although it did have its devotees. Omar had shown some enthusiasm by offering to paint his shop door purple if someone else would paint theirs orange first. Unsurprising, Ahmad, who initially hadn’t liked the turquoise gate, quite liked the idea of hordes of tourists flocking to the square and began toying with the idea of painting his shutter red, until he made the mistake of telling Badria. According to Hadi, who had eavesdropped on the entire conversation, Ahmad had quickly folded and his idea of a red shutter was brought to its inevitable end. After some consideration, Babur became a convert. Surely if tourists flocked to the square his famous chaikhana would become even more famous? Within a couple of weeks, however, Iman’s ‘Rainbow Shaahir Square’ campaign had gone the way of Ahmad’s red shutter and Omar’s purple door, although Behnaz’s turquoise gate remained turquoise.
During all this Behnaz had remained silent, although secretly pleased with the drama she had caused. Not only did she love the colour (which in her mind had become her idea) but she loved the controversy and the fact that she had got all of that for nothing.
As Tawfiq pulled up in the car in front of the turquoise gate, Rashid was squatting, talking with Behnaz who, with full shopping bags in both hands, appeared to have just arrived home.
‘Is this a meeting we’re not invited to?’ Sofia asked with a cheeky smile.
‘No,’ they answered in unison, finding the question strange. With her Aussie humour being lost on its intended victims, Sofia was about to head to her surgery when she saw Chief Wasim enter the square, heading home for lunch. Seeing her husband, Behnaz quickly disappeared into the house to prepare the lunch that should have already been waiting. With Chief Wasim sailing past as he acknowledged Sofia, Rashid and Tawfiq, Sofia quickly followed him through the gate before closing it behind her so Rashid and Tawfiq might not hear what she had to say.
‘Chief Wasim, can I have a word, please?’
Unaware that she had followed him, Wasim stopped mid-stride and turned to look at Sofia. ‘Of course. What is it I can do for you?’
‘Do you know about Farahnaz’s little brother?’
He raised his thick black eyebrows questioningly. ‘No. What about Farahnaz’s little brother?’
‘Rayi’s gone missing.’
‘I’m sorry to hear this,’ he said, as if he said these words a thousand times a day.
‘It’s possible he’s been kidnapped.’
Wasim frowned. ‘Who’s saying this?’
‘No one, but we think he might have been.’
‘Who’s we?’
‘Dr Jabril and Taban … and me.’
‘What evidence do you have for this claim?’ he said rather stiffly.
Sofia was confused by the chief ’s antagonism. ‘It’s not a claim, more a fear, and we have no evidence yet. What are the police doing? I mean, what do you do in these situations?’
Wasim offered Sofia an empty smile before walking over to the canary cage hanging off the lowest branch of the pomegranate tree. Sticking his little finger through the bars, he made cooing noises to the surprised canary. As the canary began backing away from the intruding finger, the chief lost all interest.
‘I never liked that bird much,’ he said, turning back to Sofia. ‘Now, what were you saying? Ah, yes. To be truthful, Dr Sofia, there’s not much we can do. Sadly, little boys go missing in Afghanistan every day and we rarely find them.’
‘But this is the fourth boy to go missing from Jamal Mina. Two went a couple of months ago and now another two have gone in the last week. For all we know there might be more. Someone has to be taking them.’
‘Are you sure about this?’
‘Well, not about someone taking them, but four boys have disappeared in a short space of time. Don’t you remember Dr Jabril told you about the first two?’
‘Ah, yes,’ he said, as if he had forgotten. ‘And now another two are missing, you say?’
‘Yes, maybe more.’ Sofia had the feeling the chief was more interested in getting to his lunch than getting to the bottom of the missing boys. She felt the desperation rising. She couldn’t let him disappear into the house before she got some sort of commitment. ‘What
