A frazzled Bala answered Ruban’s frantic banging on the doors of the Kinoh Residence, her plump face glistening with perspiration – probably from being near the stove. Wisps of loose hair stuck limply to her sweat-damp skin, having fallen out of the untidy bun at the back of her head. Her usually-neat apron was slightly askew, as if she had just been running.
Her beady, brown eyes widened when she saw who was on the other side of the door. “Master Ruban,” she gasped, dabbing at her sweaty face with the end of her apron. “And Mister…” she glanced at Ashwin uncertainly, as if trying and failing to remember his name. Ashwin smiled and supplied the required information, at which she nodded vaguely and continued with a perplexed expression: “What’s happened? What are you doing here this time of day? Mister Kinoh is at the office –”
“Where’s Hiya?” Ruban demanded, cutting her off. “Is she home?”
Bala squinted at him as if he had lost his mind. “Why of course not, Master Ruban. She’s at school.” She sighed, seeming to come to a decision. Holding the door further open, she stood back, ushering them into the house with a wave of her hand. “Well, whatever it is, it can be talked about inside. Come in, come in. You can’t just stand out there forever, it’s going to rain. Come sit down, I’ll make you some tea. You can wait for Hiya if you like, although I’m afraid she probably won’t be back for another few hours.”
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Ashwin frowned, glancing down at his phone. “Why? Don’t her classes end at one? It’s twelve-thirty already.”
“Well yes, yes,” Bala said, rummaging in the kitchen for ingredients. “That’s true, but one of her teachers called just half an hour ago to inform us that they’ll be taking the children to some sort of picnic today. So she’ll be a bit late. They said they’ll drop the kids home on the school bus after the picnic, so I told Ratul not to take the car out and gave him the day off. Don’t worry, though. She’ll be back by the evening.”
Ruban looked at Ashwin, blood thrumming in his ears. “Do you have the phone number of this teacher, Bala?” he asked. He was surprised at how calm his voice sounded. He had almost expected it to come out in a terrified gurgle.
“Umm, no,” Bala said, frowning. She seemed to sense that something was wrong. “She called the landline. But I can give you the school’s official phone number. They’ll know where the kids are.” Wiping her hands on her apron, she rushed over to one of the cabinets in the drawing room, fishing a phonebook out from one of its shelves.