Rose Garden Sanatorium

Chapter 7 - Mrs Chaudhary

Mrs Chaudhary

A young Asian woman stepped out of her car and stepped into a silent residential street. She looked helplessly up and down the road for any sign of who she was looking for. The street was quiet, there was no one there, let alone who she was looking for, especially at this time of night. The sun was starting to set and the streetlights were starting to come alive. So, instead she walked up to the house in which she was originally there for and rang the doorbell.

She pulled her simple blue saree back around her shoulder, feeling a little annoyed at herself for having left the house without a jacket and looked up and down the road while she waited for someone inside to answer.

The road was lined with terraced houses with big bay windows. A few cars were parked on the street right outside, as there were no driveways to hold them. Only a small path divided the vehicles from the beginning of the houses' boundaries.

The front of the house she was stood at had a small and simple front garden, a low wall containing the few plants that appeared to be dying thanks to the inevitable approaching winter season. The door she stood at was a simple white plastic thing with an opaque arched window and a golden handle, the gold was wearing down from overuse.

The young woman looked up at the sound of a bird that was calling from a nearby tree, it was just a male blackbird; a black thing but with a glorious bright yellow beak. She wondered if he was calling for his young. Although they had probably flown the nest now that summer was ending and they were all grown up. She wondered if she would ever see her own son again and watch him subsequently fly his own nest, or whether his chance was taken away from him too soon.

Suddenly a young man opened the door, his face slightly unshaven, a thin navy tie hung loosely around his neck and a beer bottle clutched in his hand. He looked in his early thirties, a short light brown mop of hair on his head and a square jaw, his eyes tired from a long day at work.

"Yes?" he asked, looking at the woman suspiciously.

"Mr Cox?" she asked.

"Depends who's asking?" He frowned.

"My name is Mrs Chaudhary, I believe your son is friends with mine; Sam Chaudhary?"

Mrs Chaudhary remembered the day Samuel came home from school with that boy, Danny Cox. He was a white boy, very pale and skinny. He was loud mouthed and slightly obnoxious for such a small child too. He didn't have much respect for her, her family, the family's Indian roots and her home. She now understood where he got his attitude from, if his father was going to answer the door in such a disrespecting manner, it's no wonder Danny grew up like it too. She'd never let Sam do such a thing.

Sam. Her son. He was such a sweet little boy before he met Danny. He would always respect people, respect his mother, his father, even his distant relations in India. Including her annoying sister-in-law Mysha who would come to visit sometimes from India and who had a dislike for anything that wasn't explicitly traditional Indian.

"Oh, Mrs Chaudhary, yes. Have they found Samuel yet?" the man asked, his face softening in sympathy and guilty recognition after realising that she was the mother of his son's best friend; the boy who has gone missing. He opened his door a little wider and changed his posture to look more comforting, although failing miserably and actually looking pained.

She shook her head and fought back the tears. "No, they haven't! They're useless! I was wondering if you could tell me where the boys went last night? When Sam was last seen?"