I guess she knew they had been delivered.I texted back:‘Hi! Yes, thanks. The éclair sprayed cream all over the tarts, but that just means more for ...e. Thank you very much.’A few minutes later:‘Vraiment!? Ooh la la! What this remind you of, Anglais?’ and another smiley face. I had no idea. For all I know they cover the Pompidou centre with silly string every other week.‘It’s fine, I’m sure it will all be fantastic. And I love Bakewell tarts. Thanks again!’Yet another message, while I was making. I recognized each one of them. I was shocked because ‘Why were they here?’One of them was Rakesh, a slim guy, same batch as ours, and a close friend of Ashqar (mentioned him in the first part). One was Shyam, who, I later came to know was Rakesh’s younger brother. He was just 19 years old at that time. Then was Adarsh, a fat guy, who was also our batchmate.And the fourth was Sammy. I couldn’t place when Ashqar said his name through the phone. But I recognized him the second I saw him. Sammy was. More

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