Iqbal motioned for Sofia to bring Daniel closer so that he might see better. Over the years Sofia had bought Iqbal cheap reading glasses from Chicken Street, but inevitably he had lost them. When she had offered to replace the last pair he had begged her not to bother wasting her afghani. He could still see well enough to repair a shoe. He didn’t need to see more than that.
‘Insha’Allah. Let us pray that this one, who I think is prettier than most, might do something for us. You must tell this prince of heaven that our lives are very hard here, Dr Sofia.’
‘Why don’t you tell him yourself, Iqbal? Dr Daniel speaks perfect Dari.’
Iqbal chuckled without a trace of embarrassment before looking at Daniel with renewed interest. ‘You are a prince, my friend. I see you and I see that you have been blessed.’
As Daniel and Iqbal began talking, Hadi and Ahmad wandered over to join Sofia in their open examination of the visitor. She was enjoying the scene being played out before her. Iqbal was dear to her heart while Daniel was still the kind and gentle man she remembered from the village, but she could tell already this was not the same man she had taken as a lover. Something had changed for him. Something for the better.
She noticed Iqbal eyeing Daniel’s soft leather boots and knew her friend would be itching to touch them. Daniel must have noticed this too because he sat down on the little wooden stool Iqbal kept for the comfort of his customers and took one boot off before offering it to the cobbler. ‘It is by the graces of Allah that Dr Sofia has brought me to you this day. Perhaps you would be so kind as to repair my boot for me?’ Daniel showed Iqbal where the sole had begun to lift.
Taking the soft boot in his bony old hands, Iqbal began examining it. ‘This is a very fine boot. No,’ he said, offering the boot back to Daniel. ‘I’m not worthy of this beautiful boot.’
Daniel refused to take the boot back. ‘I can see that you’re the finest of craftsmen and I’m sure Dr Sofia will confirm this, and that there could be no one better in all of Kabul to fix this boot for me.’ Daniel looked up at Sofia.
‘Indeed, it’s true, Dr Daniel. Iqbal is the best in Kabul. Probably in all of Afghanistan.’
Iqbal’s thin chest visibly expanded as he began examining the boot again before lifting his old brush, dipping it into his pot of glue and painting it across the offending sole. When he’d finished he weighed it down with rocks to set. Picking up a rag not as dirty as the rest, he insisted Daniel take off his other boot so that it might be polished to a soft caramel lustre while they waited for the glue on the first boot to dry. After the sole had been tested for fastness, Iqbal polished the repaired boot before handing them both back to Daniel. When Daniel offered Iqbal payment the cobbler furiously shook his head.
‘No, no, no, I cannot take money from a man who is here to help my country.’
When the hurdle of accepting money had been overcome, Iqbal insisted that Daniel was offering far too much. Sofia knew there was a fine balance to be drawn here. Too much money and Iqbal would feel it was charity; not enough and he would be offended that Daniel didn’t think highly enough of his work. Daniel insisted again that Iqbal was a master craftsman and that it would be offensive for him to pay anything less than the notes on offer. With an amount finally agreed on that pleased both men, they said their goodbyes.
‘That was kind of you,’ Sofia said, as she walked with Daniel to his car.
‘I needed the sole repaired.’
‘Still, it was kind.’
As they stood outside Ahmad’s shop making arrangements for their trip the following day to Jamal Mina, Sofia was aware that Ahmad and Hadi were perched back on their stools, listening. ‘And I’ll get back to you regarding the midwives,’ she said, trying to make their plans sound businesslike.
‘Thanks. Oh, and I also need to thank you for returning the dictionary. You didn’t have to, you know.’
After returning to Kabul from the village, Sofia had visited the MSF office, ostensibly to return Daniel’s scarf and dictionary but in reality wanting to know where he was. It surprised Sofia to learn no one in the office knew because he still hadn’t returned from the mountains. If Sofia wanted to leave the dictionary, scarf and a message, the receptionist would be happy to pass them on to him when he returned and before he left for his new posting at MSF headquarters in Geneva. Sofia left the dictionary and took the scarf. There was no message, she said.
‘I’ve still got your scarf, you know. I’ve grown fond of it, but you can have it back if you want.’
Daniel laughed. ‘That seems like an offer I’m meant to refuse.’
‘It is.’
‘Then you must keep it.’
‘Well, if you ever change your mind you know where it is.’
Daniel hesitated before getting into the car. ‘I was wondering if you’d like to have a drink? I’d like to hear what’s been happening in your life since the mountains. I’d also be interested to hear what convinced you to stay in Afghanistan.’
She smiled up at him. ‘Oh, that’s easy. You did.’
Daniel looked confused. ‘I changed your mind? Really?’ She nodded. ‘Then we definitely have to have that drink. I need to hear about this.’
There was no way she was going to turn any of that into a business arrangement for Ahmad and Hadi’s benefit. As Sofia walked back to her surgery she was smiling until she remembered Farahnaz and what she had to do.
Taking the stairs two at a time, she crossed reception to knock on Jabril’s surgery door.
‘We’ve got a problem,’ she said as she entered, taking one of the patient seats on the opposite side of the desk. By the time she’d finished telling him about Farahnaz’s brother, Jabril was slumping in his chair.
‘This is not good,’ he said, shaking his head.
‘No, it’s not. Do you think the disappearance of the four boys is related?’
Jabril sighed. ‘I don’t know, possibly. Let’s hope someone has taken them as free labour. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time kids have been stolen to work in factories or on the poppy farms in this country. If these boys are in a village somewhere someone’s sure to notice them, but will they say anything? Probably not. We need the police to make their disappearances public.’ Jabril began patting down the strands of hair combed over in an attempt to cover his bald patch, a sure sign he was worried.
‘Do you really think they’ve been taken for free labour?’ she asked.
‘No,’ he said, shaking his head and resting his hands on his desk. ‘No, I don’t. We can only hope that they’re still in Afghanistan and that they’ve been taken by someone who intends selling them on to a rich man, because that might give us time … at least for these last two boys. If he’s an agent he’ll probably want to train them in dance and make-up to raise their value before selling them on. If we’re lucky he might also need to leave them virgins. I’m sorry about my bluntness, my dear,’ he said, blushing.
‘It’s okay, Jabril. I’m a big girl.’
‘If we’re looking at some sort of paedophile ring there just might also be the possibility of buying the boys back – if we find who’s taken them, that is.’