After the Dark

By Rohit Pagare

WHAT HAPPENS WHEN A BOY IS PUSHED TO THE WALL AND A GIRL HAS TO FIGHT FOR HER HONOR AND FREEDOM?

 

Gopi, just 11 years, has promised to bring smile to Ria.  She is rich but handicapped.  Gopi is poor and broken.  But it was a promise he could die for.  Thus, begins his transformation from a boy to a man who is unknowingly on a collision course with the high and mighty.  But he is none to be stopped.  He knows he will have to do something unthinkable to bring her a smile.

 

His elder sister Seema is just 15 and has been kidnapped by money lender and kept with other inmates in the hostage camp.  With goons hovering around, she has no choice except to fight back, or to escape.  Both are fatal.  When pushed to the corner one day by a guard, she stares at her horrible self – that she could murder.   Thereafter, one day she manages to escape with another inmate only to frustratingly return to her enclosure when her friend is shot dead by guards.  And just when she was beginning to surrender to her fate, destiny throws yet another chance for a shot at freedom but with a repulsive rider – she will have to protect the ones who she would be happy to kill.  The rider is that she will have to save her captor from a deadly conspiracy. 

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Rohit Pagare is a story writer, poet and a hobby guitarist.  The story is a result of his interactions with people and is a true account.   

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rohit Pagare
• Release date: Oct 23, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393747109

Book preview

Rohit Pagare

After the Dark

––––––––

Book Cover:  Chandan Crasta (Goa)

ISBN No: 978-93-5419-595-2

Printed at: Milan Printers (Daryaganj)

Copyright

This book is a work of fiction. The characters, places, cities, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

After the Dark. Copyright © 2020 by All rights reserved under International Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the author.

To my father and mother ...with love

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

MY SINCERE THANKS to everyone who stood by me and worked hard to give their best to the novel. 

Aastha Bhalla – the patient editor for this novel, you are the best.  And to so many others, who never gave up on me.  I love you all.

Rohit Pagare

Foreword

With tears brimming in his eyes Gopi stared at the idol of Shiva in the corner of his tea kiosk. ‘My family observed holy fasting but you did not help them.  I dug the backyard thrice but I did not find any treasure. Therefore, I buried you six feet under.’

‘Here I met Ria and became hopeful.  But you had already played the devil.’ Taking a deep breath, he asked in cracked voice, ‘Isn’t your annoyance with me, because I buried you?’

A wave of anguish hit him and he mumbled, ‘God - I will fight you.’

Book One

1

Delhi.

Wednesday, March 5.

8:00 p.m.

Pramod began sweating.   The call sent shivers down his spine. ‘Switch off the chandelier lights’, he said to the attendant while slowly sinking into the arm chair. 

How could it be?

He had always been the chosen one.  Catastrophes like, death, wild fires and orphaned-at-birth belonged to a different world.  Rising like a wonder boy, ever since his childhood, he never had a chance to look back.  But the words of the caller tore him apart. 

‘...it was a horrible crash...they are dead.  A little girl has survived.  Got the number from the mobile phone recovered from the site.’

Soft music strumming from the lawn brought him back.  Everything is over.  He headed outside hoping his wife Sheela is brave enough.  She was the woman of this evening.  And tonight itself, she has lost her sister, Kusum; her husband, Jayesh; and Ria, their daughter, is fighting for her life.

A hundred or so corporate guests had already gathered.  They were the who’s who of the corporate world.   

I should inform Sheela. Kusum was her world. But it will ruin her evening.

Sheela rose from the lower ranks to the top. And to-night was her moment, she was promoted as Head of APAC region in Kempsky International, world’s largest advisory firm. 

I better hold. But then I break the marital oath.

‘Anything sir,’ steward offered French champagne. 

‘N-no thanks.’

Just an hour ago, Sheela had submitted in his arms and whispered, ‘time to sit back! Let’s think of a family.’

‘You beat college graduate’, he chuckled admiring her.

‘Flattery! I am 32 now.’

Among guests, she was looking fabulous in her toe-hugging black skirt, tightly fitting her waist revealing her killer body inside.  And the curls falling off her shoulders only deepened his chaos.

‘I am thankful to everyone.’ Sheela proudly said.

‘Indian men are brilliant,’ Myer, President of Top Financial said while sipping French Riviera, ‘but Indian women control them, so, needless to say whom one should hire.’

Suzanne, Head of America division joined. ‘‘We found no one better! But spare my office, Ms. Venus.’

‘Come dear,’ Sheela turned to Pramod and glowered, ‘I am sure you will be happy to meet Mr. Myer.’

Pramod fidgeted, shook hands and forced a smile.  Just as he glanced at Sheela, he shuddered!

Her eyes were fixed on him.  Probing.

‘Excuse us, for a moment!’ Sheela politely said and stepped aside. ‘Are you sure you are yourself?’

‘Y-yes!’ Pramod stammered.

‘You seem lost. There is indeed something I should be knowing, isn’t it?’ And she began climbing into his eyes.

‘I-It’s kind of nothing.’

‘You are indeed the best man I have ever known in my life, and I love everything about you.  Just everything!  And you are worth living for.’ Then she assertively continued, ‘but residing in you, is that one poor thing which is worth dying for?’

He sensed her eyes plunging in the darkness of his mind.

‘You are too poor to hide from me.’ She advanced yet closer, as if the world around did not exist.

‘Kusum and Jayesh m-met with an accident in Shimla. I-I received a call from the cops.’ Pramod blurted out, feeling awkward and guilty.

It can’t be. Sister!  Sheela stepped closer gripping his hand, her eyes wide like an alert bird sensing a storm, waiting for Pramod to go on. 

‘They are dead.  Ria survived.’

‘C-come again.  A-are you s-sure.’ Her voice trembled, impatient to disbelieve.

‘I confirmed,’ Pramod said painfully, ‘not once but twice.  Their SUV disappeared in the valley.’ His voice cracked.  ‘Ria is in hospital – fighting death.’

‘I-it can’t be...’

Sudden surge of blood froze her senses like a stopped toy on battery drain. Every face seemed to recede in a blur as if dissolving into a distant nothingness.  She visualized the tumbling SUV, crashing against rocks, shattering glass and rolling down into an abyss ... dragging her world into emptiness.

And she sank. 

***

In the dead of NIGHT, they were cruising to Shimla.

Hospital always invoked fear in Sheela.  She had seen people dying, patients coughing and families of unknown patients wailing.  It was only Kusum, her sister who gave her strength. Kusum, I miss you! You have always been bolder.  Stronger.

‘It’s a place of war,’ Kusum had said. 

Sheela, then just 16, frowned.  ‘War? I find it awful! Our parents died here.’

Kusum kissed her forehead, ‘It’s a battlefield, my dear.  Angels in white, fight with their scalpels and stethoscopes challenging the devils.’ She rolled a sheet of paper into a funnel and mimicked - Devils, it isn’t that easy anymore, you better come some other time.’

‘But then Papa died.’

‘Sweetheart, he had two heart attacks and angels pulled him away from the jaws of the devils, on both occasions.’

In the SUV, a gentle smile caressed Sheela’s lip.

After their parents expired Kusum became Sheela’s mother. Elder to Seema by several years, they went to the same college and Kusum was like an always-watching big-sis, making her feel easy.  Sheela blossomed.

‘Take this raincoat, it’s raining.’ Kusum would say. ‘I will come later.’

After a while Sheela would see her scampering across the road holding a polythene envelope over her.

Sheela would say annoyingly, ‘You can’t love me this much.’

Kusum would wink, ‘Try me!’

When Sheela completed her post-graduation, Kusum reared her into the corporate world. 

‘It is a jungle,’ she said, ‘not any less wild.  Strong will devour the weak with the veneer of the civilized world- everyone will wear a mask and gobble you up with politeness.  Mind you! in here, nothing is more lethal than the blade hidden behind a smile.  It’s a game of prowling predators.’

‘When it’s that bad, why me?’

‘Trust your bloodline.’ She said.

Sheela tugged along.  Bloodline.

And tonight, when Sheela indeed honored her bloodline, Kusum was no more.  There couldn’t have been a slap from God more painful than this.

Like a shifting Kaleidoscope, Kusum was preparing her for Kempsky interview playing the strict corporate.

‘What are your weaknesses?’

‘Working hard in the day to make sure my work is completed before I leave my desk.’

‘Your strengths?’

‘Sincerity! I never throw my ego in the ring when I am losing.’

‘What if you indeed lose?’

Sheela smiled, her face lighting up.  ‘Objective is to lose responsibly. Face it. Take ownership and move on.’

‘What if we reject you?’

‘Wait for another three months ... and apply again.  This is where I want to work.’

‘But why should we trust you?’

‘Coz my family trusts me; they continue to do so for last several years.  Coz they are sure I will uphold their value system even when I lose.’

And Kusum leapt and kissed her forehead.  ‘Fantastic! I know you will reach the top in Kempsky one day.’

And she did, but without Kusum.

Kusum fell in love with Jayesh, a corporate manager early in her career and married him soon thereafter.  After her motherhood she happily gave up her corporate ambitions.  Ria, their child grew up into a brilliant daughter.  Studious and agile, she won everyone’s heart with her energy and splendid quick thinking. 

And she is in hospital! 

Pramod too felt hopeless.  Images were flashing before him and receding like a lighthouse.  Ria - my lovely daughter.  She is too young and too pretty to endure!  Why God, why?

He recalled when she somersaulted on the matted floor of his house and he could not help exclaiming, ‘Terrific!  Ideal daughter!’

‘Our bloodline.’ Sheela said proudly.   

Kusum smiled.

In the hospital, Dr. Kaiser, Head of Surgeons, turned to them and said, ‘Not many survive such a crash.  Thanks to the vegetable merchant who had the right disposition in bringing the girl to the hospital in time.’

‘We will be forever thankful for his act of kindness.  But how is she now?’ Pramod asked with gratitude and concern.

‘Well she has suffered a critical head injury.’

Sheela gulped. ‘W-what would it mean...’ the sentence trailed off.

‘She should be fine.’ Kaiser corrected.

Should!

Pramod leaned forward and spoke, ‘Please do not hesitate to give her the best possible treatment.’

‘It goes without saying.’

Sheela had a strange sensation - Something is terribly wrong.

The wreckage could be found only after a week by a hectic search operation.  And in a small gathering Pramod quietly cremated both Jayesh and Kusum. 

In the coming weeks, Pramod horribly watched his love aging faster. Her radiating skin began cracking, her lustrous hair lost bounce and she sat gloomily outside the emergency ward, lost in distant thoughts.  Corporate targets no longer interested her.  Rare medicine names and obscure magical cures had pushed everything else down in priority.  She spoke less, thought deeply and wept most of the times. 

‘Why did God do this to us?’ She often asked.

‘Let God unfold the mystery.’ Pramod would console her. 

Her abode wasn’t the glass cathedral on the fifth floor of World Trade Tower, it was a wooden stool next to the hospital bed of Ria, and a hospital diwan to rest. 

A few weeks later, Kaiser entered the ward and said. ‘I have some news for you.’

His words were gentle as if weighed down by Sheela’s pain.  ‘Yes.’

‘Good news.  I was just going through the reports of Ria.’ He stood beside and rubbed his hands choosing his words carefully.  ‘Ria’s recovery has been miraculous.  You can expect her to open her eyes tomorrow.’

Sheela’s heart leapt in joy and then followed by an apprehension.  ‘Will she-’

‘Yes, she will indeed open her eyes tomorrow.’

‘H-how – this - so quickly?’

‘Have faith my dear.  I am sure she would be fine.’

Kaiser’s words comforted her.  But she had a strange feeling - something bad.  She ignored. Trust your bloodline, Kusum had said, and she believed her.

Sheela was unable to sleep that night.  Time and again she turned over to watch her daughter in an endless gaze. 

God, help my child. 

Next day, Dr Kaiser arrived with two attendants and gently removed equipment attached to Ria.  Then, waiting for a brief while, he assessed the reports from adjoining printers. 

And then the moment arrived. 

Opening of Ria’s eyes, indeed was an awaited moment– trust our bloodline – until.... 

Dr Kaiser wiped his face.

There was an utter silence. 

It was killing.

Kaiser turned to Sheela, ‘sorry my dear, she won’t be able to speak, hear and control her hands,’ He said slowly trying at best to absorb Sheela’s pain. ‘But yes, her debilitated condition will be temporary.’

Sheela was stunned.  Pramod stood beside.

‘What I mean is she will recover soon.’

‘H-how soon you think?’ Sheela spoke slowly.

‘Trust God.’

2

Bihar

Wednesday, April 9.

10:00 a.m.

Before her was darkness.  Plumes of dust rose menacingly in the sky like spouting poison spreading over her village.  Huddling tightly on the floor of the jeep Seema could sense salty taste of her dripping blood. Surrounded by hulk musclemen looking down at her, she was feeling repulsive, sensing their crooked thoughts crawling like worms under her skin.

They will kill me. 

No, they won’t.

She was barely 15 years, poor, weak and fragile.  Her eyes, red raw from crying and her throat was sour from screaming.  She was on way to the dungeon. A chowl. The last stop before death.  She had heard horrifying stories in the village but she had disbelieved them. 

‘Satbir was dragged, beaten and thrown in chowl.’

‘Poor Manjeet, it’s his third year in chowl. Coughing. He will die soon.’

‘There is epidemic, three are dead.’

‘Ajay was told his son is missing in the chowl. Poor boy was buried in the fields.’

She could still see images of her mother being dragged and her father lynched.  Then her brother blocked the marauders and she saw him flung in the air with blood filled mouth. Screams had still not stopped resonating in her ears sending shards of pain. 

Forgive us. We will repay. – it was her father

Leave her, we will work for you: it was her mother dragging behind

Take me away instead of her: it was brother Gopi.

Then she heard a nerve rattling voice that shook the insides of every villager crowding around, as if like a wrath of the demon. 

Till he repays, his daughter shall serve us.

It was Bhavani Shankar, the village money lender.

The jeep halted with a jolt bringing Seema back.

My life ends here. It’s over.  No more father, no more mother or Gopi and ... and no more of my small dreams.

‘Get out,’ screamed a guard.

She was escorted to a giant iron-gate jammed between towering high walls, and around it was a barbed wire fence that seemed to violently goad into morning sky like blunt jagged needles.

‘Enjoy your stay.’ A burly voice thundered indifferently.  ‘...for the rest of your life.’

For my life?  She gulped.

‘Or you will be sold to someone.’ 

Seema felt breathless. 

‘You must have heard of the chowl.’ Billa, an armed guard taunted.  ‘I am sure you will like it.’

Finally, there.

‘Better be nice to me.  To us.  Maybe we show mercy.’

Seema, at that instant moment felt like falling in his feet. No! She stood unflinched.  I can’t.

Billa smiled watching her tremble to the heels. ‘I punished your father.  Slapped him on his face and kicked his butt. He squealed like a rabbit.’

Fear suddenly disappeared in Seema and at that moment she knew she could pounce, she could attack, she could murder.  Murder! She halted.  Yes, she could.  She should.

Billa moved closer and ran his hand over her shoulders, ‘You know our boss, he is quite fed up with you people.  Calls you lepers.’ He clasped her shoulder in an iron grip squeezing tighter until dizziness began hitting her.

‘We all have been nice to you.  Haven’t we?’  He smiled watching her writhe in pain.  ‘But only up to now. Don’t test our patience.’

Seema muffled her scream. 

‘You have been living in filth, but still you haven’t seen enough.’ He let go.  ‘Mind you, no one walks out of here alive. No one.  Just no one.’

Seema began feeling breathless.

‘Lemme share a story.  There was a boy in the chowl.  He didn’t realize how lucky he was here, until one day he managed to escape. Poor boy, his luck immediately ran out.  He was chased by hungry Labradors and before we could help, the dogs tore out his guts.  We did not have to dig too hard to bury him, he was half eaten.’

No one walks out alive.  No one survives inside.  I beat your father!  I am in Bhavani Shankar’s palace, a place inhabited by those who wronged my family. I am at their mercy.

She knew, Bhavani was powerful, much more than what she had ever imagined.  And, if he had wanted, by this time she would have been buried a dozen feet beneath the ground.  But she was alive.  I am surviving. I should be surviving – for my family.

‘Here you are.’ Billa smirked.

Without looking up, she thought, this is it.  Second iron gate towered over her like a giant. 

‘This glorious palace is for you.’

Sentry drew out a large key. 

Through the grill Seema watched the wooden dwellings.  It was a living nightmare.  Open drains...broken wooden compartments... garbage heap with buzzing flies ... a group of men looking drawn and pale ... bucket queues and at a distance a group of men in quiet discussion.

As she advanced men and women turned to watch the new entrant.

God watch over me.

‘Step inside.’ A voice thundered.

She did.  The large Iron Gate slowly creaked shut behind her. 

Now what?

‘I am Biswas,’ said a middle-aged man, balding from the front, with keen eyes. ‘Have no fear.  We are as much victims as you are. Feel protected.’

Her anxiety did not subside.

‘Sorry that you have been brought to this condition.’

‘N-no need for a sorry.’ Seema stammered. Her voice hoarse from screaming.

‘Every man is a prisoner of his thoughts, but it’s sorry when a someone is a prisoner of another human.’

Seema watched him incredulously. 

‘You are now in servant quarters,’ he continued, ‘a makeshift hostage camp of Bhavani. It’s a chowl.’

Another said. ‘We are from different villages with only one commonality.’ ‘We owed Bhavani.  Our families owed money. We are the hostages.’

Parting the crowd came forward two women.

‘I am Laxmi.’

‘I am Devi.’

‘Come, you live with us.’

Seema followed them like a tamed pet.  I can’t live here.  I have to go.   Father will come for me, so will mother.  And Gopi cannot forget me.

Bhavani was a revered face.  A feared face.  Tall, whitish complexioned, heavy moustache and he moved from village to village in his caravan.  Everyone knew about his reality but they kept quiet, for they miserably knew their own reality much better. 

His palace was huge, but it wasn’t like this always.  Years ago, it was just another mud house that boasted to be the tallest in the village.  Bhawani’s father was an industrious man and transformed a small business into a larger one and the mud house became a farmhouse. 

With Bhavani’s entry, greed replaced business.  His influence swelled rapidly and the house became bigger.  Towering boundary wall came in the last.  Barbed wire got added still later. 

Chowl was built in its back, away from peering eyes of onlookers.  Set up in an open enclosure, without a roof, it looked like a gypsy encampment from above but without their colorful attire.  Wooden compartments were placed in random like large payphone boxes.  

Inmates were flocked in and out every day to the palace through a narrow dark passage where they worked till late evening in the supervision of armed guards.  They were servants, housemaids, cleaners, cooks, helpers and orderlies. In the evening, they were reared like cattle back into the chowl and locked inside. 

The folk lore was – never once should you step inside the chowl, it will suck you like a devil into the darkness of unknown.

Bhavani’s rise had become unstoppable. He had outgrown his father’s dreams manifolds and now had a sprawling business scattered over the length and breadth of the country.  No one, including his family could speculate the spread of Bhavani’s kingdom - barring his advisor, his aide - his accountant Pinaka.  He was the pivot, the key-thinking brain in Bhavani’s astronomical rise.  Bhavani would not have become what he did, had it not been for the racing brain of Pinaka behind him.

Today, Bhavani had factories, warehouses, trucks and loaders, he had men willing to do anything for him and he had access to endless labor.  He was addicted to money, more money like the smell of hashish.

And it swelled his chest. 

He often screamed, ‘why did you spend the penny if it did not return with another?’  It was the principal he lived with.  It was the rule that made him what he was. 

But like every rule, every law, every individual has an exception. He too had one. The seed business - the one idea with which he started off with, that which turned him invincible, that which made him jump orbits.  And it made him live an ultimate thrill – it made him determine when a person has outlived his worth.

Even when his aides advised, ‘Let’s close it. There is too much of headache to run the system and clean the footprints.’

‘Immaterial,’ he rubbished.

The seed business did not bring him sacks of money, but its rewards still outmatched every other business.  It was also simple; it was to lure villagers into a debt trap.  And it worked.  It always did. 

He knew they need money, and they will falter, if not today, then later.  How can they expect mother-nature to side with them always? After all famines are for the rich; to make them richer.  So are floods.

And the moment they sinned, his men swooped down and dragged a vulnerable family member to his chowl, and then began a family’s endless battle to free their loved one, they paid, and paid more, and kept paying.  But the debt refused to budge, the battle refused to end.  It crippled them, turned them destitute, made them burn and perish. 

But then, were their lives any better? They never smiled or lived a moment of fulfillment.  I gave them a reason to smile...at least once.

The business brought him free money, and free labor.  So, what if it was unlawful, so what if it risked snooping authorities, so what if it made him live on his toes but, unknown to others, it brought him the thrill no other business brought – it was the sheer excitement to live with the risk of losing everything.  Every time he sailed through, it assured him of his power.  Nothing buoyed his ego more than breaking a rule, to audaciously defy a law and yet remain above it. 

It made him feel like God.

3 

Delhi.

Tuesday, April 15.

11 a.m.

When Ria opened her eyes, the first thing she saw around her were nurses and attendants.  Hospital?! Did something happen?

Looking up she asked, ‘Where is my father?’ Surprisingly she could not hear her own voice.  Maybe some medicine.

She spoke aloud, but no one again answered. 

Before her, Sheela was busy discussing with a visiting doctor.  Nurses were preparing the medicine-trolley, attendants were fidgeting with colorful wires.

I must have mumbled.  Then she screamed will all her energy. 

Nothing moved. Her eyes began feeling heavy and she slumped. 

When she started recovering her urge to know about her parents increased. 

They will come for me soon. 

Too much of silence around her was filling her with unease making her feel unheard.  Everyone seemed to ignore her presence though a nurse would step near occasionally, changed her clothes, served bitter medicines, kissed her forehead and left.

And Sheela stood beside her like a rock.  Always present.  But she too never responded. 

Strange!

Soon reality downed on her.  In the tight embrace of Sheela, she wept bitterly.  Everything is over.  She was crippled, someone who was deaf, dumb and unable to control her hands.  A sense of dark enveloped her.  No more of games, no more of books, no more of joyful Tom and Jerry, no more of anything she ever loved.   She screamed in agony. 

No one heard.

But her inner urge refused to give up.  I am sure my father and mother will find a way out and filled her with a determined pursuit to find them. 

She saw Sheela morning noon and night, running errands, bringing medicines and spoon-feeding her meals.  She loved her as much as she abhorred her helplessness. 

Disastrous thoughts began clouding her mind.  What if I get locked in a room somewhere, how will I switch the lights, how will I communicate?

Day rolled into nights and afternoons merged into evenings.  But neither did her father bring her flowers nor she found herself in her mother’s cozy embrace.  One day in the morning she awakened to the glimmering sun and she decided to pray.  A little later, started apologizing. 

Please forgive me. I love you Papa, Mummy.  Please show up...

Still no one came.  Only Sheela strutted around feverishly.  Ria watched her aging faster.  Her hair was disheveled and her eyes had developed dark circles. 

Ria prayed - I promise to never pester parents for any more vacations.  Am I not your lovely daughter?

One day a nurse brought a mirror and thrust it before her, and she felt so terrified that she wanted to flee. 

God knows what will stare back?

But suddenly she halted, saw her face and gave a sigh. The face staring back was incredulously hers though a little shabby.  There were no marks, no injuries, and no wounds.  The face had fabulous round black eyes, long forehead, sharp nose and full lips.  It seemed as if she had woken up after a long-tired sleep making her look a little pulled down.  Her eyes appeared glum and her hair had been trimmed clumsily.  It was like watching her lost village twin whom she suddenly encountered. 

She is not me. 

She is my present me.

It relieved her, but her parents were still not found.  She was caged - trapped in her own human shell.

When Ria became strong enough to move, she began walking gently in her hospital room, looking around, familiarizing herself with her surroundings trying to understand her new world.  Her alien new world.

Her mind had partially recovered and was throwing images, a procession of darkened faces with ghastly noises of shattering glass and crumpling metal.  It made her heart lose a beat.

Let’s go to the hills.

No Darling, not now, we visit next year.

Now. Now.

It was her father. A voice she grew up with, a voice that gave her strength and confidence.  When she closed her eyes, in its dark shadows she saw illumination rising from unknown.  And she heard voices again:

What a view.

Click it my dear.

It was her mother.  A voice she could