Jabril groaned inwardly. He was in for a lecture.
‘You have to tell her.’ Zahra didn’t need to say more. He knew who, and he knew what. Sofia and the notes posted on their door had been constants in their conversations from the day the first one had arrived.
‘Why should we give Sofia more things to worry about when these things have nothing to do with her?’ he asked, resting his tired body in Zahra’s velvet-covered ‘boudoir’ chair that he usually avoided, thinking it far too fragile to be of any use to anyone, especially him. ‘It’s me these ridiculous things are for.’
‘You don’t know this.’
‘They’re left on my door. They don’t say anything about Sofia. They’ve got nothing to do with her.’
Jabril didn’t need this conversation. He was more worried about why Chief Wasim hadn’t rung to tell them the raid had taken place and the boys were safe. He feared something was wrong, but right then – in those very minutes – all he really wanted to do was go to bed.
‘What about the visa? Why would her visa be cancelled?’
Jabril’s body sank further into the flimsy arms of the chair. ‘Clerical error, my dear. Clerical error.’
‘Perhaps you should tell your precious Minister Massoud about the letters too and he can fix them for us while he’s fixing Sofia’s visa,’ she said innocently, running her hand over the bedspread to flatten out its invisible creases. ‘I have no idea why you put so much faith in that man.’
After more than thirty years of marriage Jabril knew what that tone meant. He also knew it was a waste of time to continue the conversation so late in the evening. Anything he said would be ignored or would lead to further argument. Excusing himself, he escaped to the bathroom. As he sat on the side of the bath waiting for Zahra to get into bed and fall asleep – his wife had the enviable knack of falling asleep the minute her head touched the pillow – he thought back to his conversation with Minister Massoud. He had not said anything wrong, but … Jabril pushed the thought away. Surely not.
* * *
WHEN SOFIA WOKE early the following morning to cold air seeping in through the partially open bedroom window and the vision of a cloudless blue sky, she was about to pull the blanket up around her ears and snuggle down for another half an hour when she realised she’d probably already overslept. Rolling over, she grabbed her phone off the bedside table to check the time and any messages. No messages but she was late. Daniel and Clementine would be in the square in thirty minutes. After having a quicker than normal shower, Sofia raced downstairs to knock on Chief Wasim’s door. When no one answered she walked out into the courtyard to see the canary cage already hanging off the lowest branch of the pomegranate tree, which meant Behnaz was out and about. Hearing voices on the other side of the gate, she walked out to find Behnaz and Tawfiq talking. After greeting them, she asked Behnaz where her husband was.
‘Work,’ she said, narrowing her eyes.
‘Do you know if anything happened last night?’
Behnaz put her hand on her hip while holding the broom in the other. ‘What might have happened last night?’
‘You haven’t heard anything?’
‘No. What might have happened last night?’ Behnaz asked again.
‘Did Chief Wasim get home late?’
‘Maybe.’
‘I’ll be back in a minute,’ Sofia said. Running up to her apartment, she rang the chief, stunned when he answered. ‘What happened?’
‘As-salaam alaikum, Dr Sofia,’ he said politely.
‘Wa alaikum as-salaam. What happened?’
‘Nothing happened.’
Sofia sat down on the edge of her bed, a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. They were going to lose the boys. ‘What do you mean? I thought you were raiding the house yesterday?’
She heard him sigh. ‘Dr Sofia, these things take time. It will be soon, I promise you. Today, I think. Now please don’t worry yourself about this. I’ll ring you when it’s done.’
‘Chief Wasim, the boys …’
‘Yes, I know about the boys.’ She could hear the irritation on the other end of the phone. ‘That’s who I’m thinking about. You don’t want them to be harmed in a raid that hasn’t been properly prepared, do you? Relax, I’ve got men watching the house. No one can escape.’
Sofia hung up and rang Jabril. ‘It hasn’t happened.’ She realised she was hoping he might have different news or be able to make it happen.
‘I know.’
‘These men are going to get away, Jabril.’ She started pacing around her bedroom. ‘We’re going to lose the boys forever.’
‘Now, now, we don’t know that yet.’ Despite his words she could hear his worry.
‘If only I wasn’t going to Kandahar.’ She lay down on the bed with her arm resting across her forehead. ‘Jesus, I need to sort out my visa too. I shouldn’t be going.’
‘You need to talk to the women, remember? Listen, I want you to forget about the visa. I’m dealing with it. Go to Kandahar, deliver the medical supplies, say goodbye to the midwives as planned, and by the time you get back the boys will probably be safe at home and your visa sorted.’
Carrying her hastily packed overnight bag and a large box of medical supplies, Sofia headed back out to the courtyard. Omar, who had joined Tawfiq, Behnaz and now Rashid outside the gate, insisted on taking the box from her only to place it on the ground near her feet. Thanking Omar, she turned back toward the house, asking Rashid and Tawfiq if they could help her bring out the rest of the boxes for the midwives.
‘You told me no more Kandahar,’ Behnaz snapped when Sofia returned with another box.
‘Yes, but I have to tell the women that, don’t I?’ Sofia disappeared back into the house for some more boxes.
‘What’s wrong with your phone?’ Behnaz asked as Sofia was
