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On a low table sits the opium bowl. Chin stirs the thick black goo. He pulls out a sticky, tarlike bead of opium and pushes it down into the wooden pipe. With horror I see that he wears my father's wedding ring on a string around his neck.
"Where did you get that ring?" I ask in a hoarse whisper that I hope passes as a young man's voice. "Luv'ly, innit? Patron gimme it. Fair trade fo' me opyum."
"Is he still here? That man?"
"Don' know. Ain't runnin' a boardin'ouse, now, is I, guv?"
"Chin . . ." The voice, urgent but hoarse, comes from the other side of the ragged curtain. A hand pokes out. It shakes as it searches for the pipe. There's a fine gold watch fob dangling from the thin fingers."Chin, take it. . . . Give me more. . . ."
Father.
I pull aside the filthy curtain. My father lies on the soiled, torn mattress in only his trousers and shirt. His jacket and coat adorn a woman who is draped across him, snoring lightly. His fine cravat and boots are gone--stolen or bartered, I do not know which. The stench of urine is overpowering, and I have to fight to keep from being ill.
"Father."
In the dim light, he struggles to see who is speaking. His eyes are bloodshot, the pupils large and glassy."Hello," he says, smiling dreamily.
My throat throbs with all I'm holding back."Father, it's time to go home."
"Just one more. Right as rain. Then we'll go. . . ."
Chin takes the watch fob and pockets it. He passes the pipe to Father.
"Don't give him any more," I plead.
I try to take the pipe, but Father wrests it from my hand and gives me a hard shove in the bargain. Kartik helps me to my feet.
"Chin, the light. There's a good man. . . ."
Chin lowers the candle to the pipe. My father draws in the smoke. His eyes flutter and a tear escapes, making a slow track down his unshaven cheek."Leave me, pet."
I can't stand another moment. With every bit of strength I've got, I push the woman off Father and pull him to his feet. The two of us stumble backward. Chin laughs to watch us, as if it were a night of cockfighting or some other sport. Kartik takes my father's other arm and together we maneuver him through the throngs of opium eaters. I am so ashamed that he should see my father in this state. I want to cry but am afraid if I did I would never stop.
We stumble on the stairs but somehow manage to make it to our carriage without further incident. The boys have been true to their word. The crowd has grown to about twenty children, who all clamber out of the seats and down from Ginger's back. The cold night air, an assault earlier, is a balm after the wretched opium fumes. I breathe in greedy gulps as Kartik and I help Father into the carriage. Tom's trousers catch in the door, tearing along the seam. And with that, I too rip apart. Everything I've held back--disappointment, loneliness, fear, and the crushing sadness of it all-- comes rushing out in a torrent of tears.
"Gemma?"
"Don't . . . look . . . at . . . me," I sob, turning my face toward the cold steel of the carriage. "It is all ... so . . . horrible . . . and it's . . . my fault."
"It is not your fault."
"Yes, yes, it is! If I hadn't been who I am, Mother wouldn't have died. He never would have been like this! I ruined his happiness! And . . ."I stop.
"And . . . ?"
"I used the magic to try to cure him." I'm afraid Kartik will be angry, but he doesn't say anything. "I couldn't bear to see him suffer so. What is the good of all this power if I can do nothing with it?"
This brings a fresh wave of tears. To my great surprise, Kartik wipes them away with his hand. "Meraa mitra yahaan aalye," he murmurs.
I understand only a little Hindi, enough to know what he has said: Come here, my friend.
"I've never known a braver girl," he says. He lets me lean against the carriage for a moment till my tears stop, and my body feels as it always does after a good cry--calm and clean. Across the Thames, the deep chimes of Big Ben sing two o'clock.
Kartik helps me into the seat next to my sleeping father.
"Merry Christmas, Miss Doyle."
When we reach home, the lamps are lit, which is an ominous sign. Tom is waiting in the parlor. There's no way to hide what has happened.
