by S. M. Hall
‘She wants to stay here with her grandfather.’
Omar cut in loudly, ‘I can’t be bothered with this. I have important business to attend to. Jamila will go with you. It’s bad enough that my father refuses to go.’
‘He’s too old to make such a long journey,’ his wife said quietly.
‘Nonsense. The family would like to see the great Professor Sharif. They all remember him with great affection. And his brilliant son Majid, of course. What a pity they don’t honour the great Omar, the one who sends the money that feeds them all.’
‘Of course they honour you,’ his wife said. ‘They’ll be glad to see us. We’ll provide fine wives for their sons.’
‘Yes, while you’re there you can find a suitable husband for Jamila. I’ve had enough of this studying nonsense.’
‘She would like to be a doctor,’ his wife said softly.
Omar snorted. ‘She doesn’t need a career. Her husband will provide.’ His eyes flew to the door as his father came in.
‘What are you shouting about now?’ Sharif asked.
‘He wants Jamila to go with us to Pakistan,’ Shameen explained.
‘She’s staying with me,’ his father said.
Omar looked as if he was going to protest, then he said sulkily, ‘Is a man not the boss in his own house?’
His wife put a plate of rice and mutton on the table. ‘Here, please eat. You’ll feel better.’
Omar stood up. ‘No. Save it. I have no time to eat now. I must prepare for an important meeting.’
‘But you’ve only just come home,’ Shameen protested.
‘I’m going into the study,’ Omar said sharply, snatching up a handful of food.
Before he could walk out, his father, Sharif, stopped in front of him. ‘These meetings are the root cause of our troubles,’ he said. ‘Because of you, your brother is detained in prison. Do not set something in motion that you cannot stop.’
‘I know what I’m doing,’ Omar snapped.
His father raised his eyebrows. ‘It would be for the first time,’ he said.
Omar’s chin wobbled, his bottom lip protruded and his whole body seemed to bristle and shake as he bustled past his father, down the hallway and into his study.
He opened the door onto a richly furnished room. An oak desk stood in the middle of the floor on a silk rug. Behind the desk were a padded leather chair and substantial bookcases. It was the study of an important man.
Omar was setting down his expensive briefcase when the phone rang.
‘Yes?’
He listened for a moment, then said, ‘Ah yes, the daughter.’
There was another brief silence, during which he sat down.
‘Put out the word,’ he said, leaning back in his chair. ‘This time there will be no mercy.’
* * *
‘Come with me,’ Lubna said. ‘I’ll show you where to put your things.’ She bowed her head solemnly as they left the room but outside she gave Maya a friendly smile.
‘What brought you here?’ she asked.
‘A quest.’
‘For faith?’
‘Yes.’
Lubna’s eyes lit up. ‘If you find the enlightened path, the way of Allah and His prophet Muhammad, praise be his name, you will find truth, you will find peace.’
‘That’s what I’m looking for,’ Maya said. ‘Some kind of certainty in a crazy world.’
Lubna put her hand over her heart. ‘I know what you mean. My faith is the most important thing in my life. I couldn’t live without it – it’s my rock, it shows me how to live.’
‘Do you ever question it?’ Maya asked.
‘No. It’s a part of me. Without my faith, my life would have no meaning. For Muslims, when we submit to God, we obey His laws. Everything is God’s will and we are a part of His eternal plan; nothing is random. So this gives me certainty and peace.’
‘That’s wonderful,’ Maya said.
Lubna clasped her hands. ‘Yes, it is. There are so many bad things going on, so much crime, drugs, so much disrespecting of women.’
‘But I thought—’ The words were out of Maya’s mouth before she could stop them.
‘You thought Muslim women were not respected? You think we’re second-class citizens.’
‘Well, I . . . I suppose, you know, you read in the newspapers about the Taliban, about women not being able to drive cars or have careers, having to be covered up, being stoned to death.’
‘We women accept our fate. We learn humility but we are respected by our men. A Muslim woman has full rights of property ownership and her own earnings even after marriage, and she keeps her own family name. Is that a surprise to you?’
Maya nodded, she had to admit it was.
‘And this,’ Lubna said, indicating her headscarf. ‘I don’t have to cover my head. I do it because of tradition, but also because I want to acknowledge my faith in public. I want people to know I’m Muslim.’
‘But doesn’t it feel restricting?’
‘No. For me it’s natural. Come on, I’ll show you.’
She took Maya into a room at the back of the shop. It was smaller than the other room, but much brighter. There was a big sofa covered with an orange throw, a little table with a jar of sunflowers on it and some vivid paintings on the walls. Opening a drawer in a cabinet she pulled out a white headscarf, her face became serious. ‘I’ll show you how to wear the hijab.’
The white material fluttered in front of Maya’s face. Lubna demonstrated how to fold it, then pulled it tight across Maya’s forehead and secured it with clips.
‘Thank you,’ Maya murmured.
‘Here,’ Lubna said, handing her a small mirror.
Maya looked at her reflection and saw a Muslim girl – perfectly smooth arched eyebrows, high cheekbones and tawny skin. Her brown almond eyes looked back at her, dark and disturbed.
‘You’re beautiful,’ Lubna said, taking the mirror.
Opening another drawer, she took out some perfume. ‘Do you like Chanel?’
‘Yes,’ said Maya, surprised.
‘Good.’ Lubna removed the cap and sprayed some perfume on Maya’s scarf and then on her own. Laughing, she turned round and closed the cabinet drawer. ‘The finishing touch,’ she said.
‘Do you have a radio or TV here?’ Maya asked.
‘Why?’
‘I just wondered.’
‘We have no need of such things here. We study.’
‘What about Khaled? Is he in charge?
‘He’s one of the teachers.’ She fiddled with her headscarf, blushed and looked away.
‘Is he a devout Muslim?’ Maya asked.
‘Of course.’
Lubna’s sharp response made Maya feel she’d asked the wrong question. To try and win back Lubna’s approval, she shared the story she’d made up.
‘I was adopted when I was a baby,’ she told her. ‘My adoptive parents are really nice and they’ve been good to me. They had to go through a lot of red tape to get me, so I should be grateful. But I’ve always felt something’s missing from life. My real family was Muslim.’
Lubna reached out and put her hands on Maya’s shoulders. ‘You will be my sister. I will show you our ways.’
‘Thank you,’ Maya said, smiling warmly.
‘You’ll have to study,’ Lubna said. ‘Knowledge is one of the important ideals of Islam. We must respect learning. I’m studying Law at university.’
‘Really? That’s great,’ Maya said. ‘Where do you go?’
‘Manchester. The first year was difficult, getting to know people. Most of university social life revolves around pubs and drinking and, as you know, Muslims don’t drink alcohol. But now I’m into my third year, I’m enjoying it.’
‘That’s good,’ Maya said.
‘When I finish,’ Lubna said, ‘I want to be a barrister, then marry and have a family.’
‘Will your family find you a husband?’
Lubna laughed. ‘I think they alrea
dy have someone in mind.’
‘And if you don’t like him?’
‘My family will choose wisely,’ Lubna said. ‘But I won’t have to marry him if I don’t like him. I know it’s probably an alien concept to you, but ask yourself what is better – romantic passion that dies after a few years, or a lasting marriage based on respect and family honour?’
Maya’s brow wrinkled as she thought about what Lubna had said.
Lubna smiled. ‘OK. Read your book while I go and get something for us to eat.’
When she’d gone, Maya looked at the book and tried to concentrate, but her thoughts were dominated by wondering what was happening to her mum and if there’d been any news. Desperate to check her mobile for messages, she made sure nobody was around and then reached into the zip compartment of her rucksack. Her phone wasn’t there. She unzipped her bag and searched everything, getting more and more frantic. Finally, when she’d shaken out every item in her bag and piled it all on the floor, she knew for definite her phone had gone. Her mind tracked back – had the lad on the train stolen it? No, she remembered checking her messages later on the bus.
Khaled! He was the only one who could have taken it, and her bag had been open when he’d handed it back to her. She prowled round the room wondering what to do. Had he taken the mobile to check who she was?
As she tried to figure things out, she went over to the window and stared into the little yard below that backed onto a high brick wall. Someone came into view. It was Khaled, and he was carrying something, holding it carefully – it looked like a plate of food, but she couldn’t see clearly because outside the window was streaked with grime. She watched his blurred figure as he bent down and pulled at a low door. He disappeared down some steps, closing the door behind him.
All Maya’s senses were alert. She had to find out what Khaled was up to. Who was down there, who was he taking food to? Striding over to the door, she looked out onto the landing. Nobody was around, so she stepped out and tiptoed downstairs. Lubna wasn’t in the kitchen, it was empty, but the back door had been left slightly open and she went out into the yard.
The small red door was in the high brick wall on the opposite side of the yard. Glancing back over her shoulder, Maya dashed to the door, bent down and pulled at the handle – it wouldn’t shift. She tried again without success, then started jiggling the handle, but suddenly the door flew open in her face and she just managed to save herself from falling as she was catapulted backwards.
‘Did you want something?’
Khaled was standing there. He stepped forward, his tall figure looming over her, his eyes glittering.
‘I . . . er . . . I came out into the yard to . . . to . . . phone my parents and I saw this little door.’
His face creased with annoyance. ‘I would prefer it if you would keep to your quarters inside the bookshop.’
‘Yes, of course.’ she said, but couldn’t help adding, ‘Why?’
He pressed his lips together and mumbled something about valuable books being stored down there.
Then he put his hand in his pocket and thrust her mobile at her. ‘Here, if you want to phone your parents, you’d better have this.’
Maya eyed him with suspicion.
‘You left it on the kitchen table,’ he said.
She seriously doubted it – she’d never used her phone in the kitchen – but she thought it best not to question him.
‘Come on, let’s go inside,’ he said. ‘I have to get ready for a meeting tonight.’
‘Can I attend the meeting?’ she asked, as she followed him back into the kitchen.
‘It’s not an open meeting.’ He flexed his fingers and cracked a knuckle. ‘You must be more careful with that mobile. It could fall into the wrong hands.’ He gave her a direct, challenging stare before turning away.
Maya’s heart thumped, her stomach tightened. What incriminating evidence had he seen on her mobile? She held her phone tightly in one hand and tapped into the inbox. All her messages had been deleted.
Chapter Twelve
‘Did you delete my messages?’ Maya snapped.
‘If someone else had searched your bag, you’d be in trouble,’ Khaled answered.
She faced him squarely, her voice shrill. ‘What do you know? Tell me!’
He stepped towards her, his eyes flashing angrily. ‘I know who you are, and it’s too dangerous for you to be here. You shouldn’t have come.’
‘Where’s my mother?’
‘I don’t know, I. . .’
From the direction of the shop there was a distinct click, as if someone was shutting a door. Khaled glanced round nervously. ‘Leave now!’
‘No! I have to find out who’s got my mum. Where is she?’
Khaled gestured for calm and spoke softly. ‘Please, I’ll help you but. . .’
The door to the bookshop opened and closed. Khaled leaned close and whispered urgently. ‘You are my cousin, understand?’
Footsteps rapped through the bookshop and a figure appeared in the doorway; a young guy, small and stocky in black jeans and hooded top stepped into view.
Maya caught her breath; he was dressed like the kidnappers. Cold fear gripped her as his eyes swept over her, their gaze dark and intense. Such a burning energy emanated from him that she felt at any moment, he might explode into action. Then she saw something that almost stopped her heart – dangling from his hand was a black hood. A small, involuntary cry came from her throat, she nearly gave herself away but, luckily, at that moment Khaled spoke.
‘Nazim, my man,’ he said stepping forward. ‘How’s it going?’
Nazim smiled, showing a wide gap between his top teeth. ‘Success, man, success. We caught the rabbit.’
He smirked and chuckled, while Khaled shook his hand.
‘Excellent,’ Khaled said. ‘Did it all go to plan?’
‘Yeah, the decoy worked. The hounds are hunting south.’
Khaled nodded and smiled, then he gestured toward Maya. ‘Nazim, this is Soraya, she’s just joined us.’
Nazim pursed his lips and looked at Maya through narrowed eyes. ‘You know her?’ he asked Khaled.
Khaled nodded. ‘Yeah, I can vouch for her. Soraya’s my cousin.’
Nazim rocked back on his heels. ‘Right,’ he said, ‘Cousin. Yeah, OK. Good to meet ya.’
Maya clenched her teeth and cast her eyes down, forcing herself to stay in control. Anger was pricking her tongue, her eyes were riveted to the black hood in his hand. When she looked up, he’d pushed back his hood and she saw the silver scar running across his forehead. She wanted to scream at him, ask him if he knew where her mum was, but that would be suicide.
Her stomach started to churn, her breathing quickened. Would he recognise her? He’d only caught a quick glimpse of her on the lane before he zoomed off in the jeep, and he’d seen her in running gear with her hair in a ponytail – he certainly wouldn’t expect to see her with her head covered in the bookshop. If she was careful, very careful, remembered she was Soraya, remembered she was there to learn about Islam, looked suitably humble and hid the anger in her eyes, she might not be discovered.
Behind her, the door banged back and Lubna came in carrying a large, heavy covered tray.
‘What’s that?’ Nazim demanded.
‘Culinary delights, courtesy of Omar,’ Lubna said, setting the tray on the table.
Omar! Maya remembered the text on her mum’s computer – Omar, self-styled leader of the Allied Brotherhood.
Nazim rubbed his hands together. ‘Good. I’m starving,’ he said.
‘Is there enough for my cousin Soraya?’ Khaled asked Lubna.
‘Cousin?’ Lubna said, looking surprised.
‘Oh, sorry, didn’t I tell you? Soraya’s my cousin,’ Khaled said.
‘And we can’t have your cousin starving, can we?’ Nazim chipped in.
Maya didn’t like the way he put emphasis on the word ‘cousin’; it sounded sarcastic, suspicious. She looked over at him, b
ut he’d turned his back on her.
Lubna touched Maya’s shoulder. ‘We have to wash before we eat, Soraya.’
‘Oh yes, of course,’ Maya answered quickly.
The look of pure hatred on Nazim’s face as she passed him spooked Maya. In the bathroom, her hands trembled as she ran them under the tap – she was afraid of him, she couldn’t help it. His eyes burned with hate, he’d be capable of anything. But she was angry too. How she’d kept from screaming at him, she didn’t know.
Keep calm, Maya, hold it together. Watch him carefully, use all the tricks that Pam taught you. He’s not so bright, he’s bound to give something away.
And what about Khaled? He’d covered for her, calling her his cousin, but then earlier he’d asked Nazim about the kidnapping – that coded stuff about catching the rabbit hadn’t fooled her for a moment. He’d known about the plot to seize Pam, so why hadn’t he warned her? Whose side was he actually on?
It was confusing and scary. Without much effort on her part she’d made contact with the Brotherhood, but at any moment it could all blow up in her face.
She felt the touch of Lubna’s hand on her arm. ‘Soraya. I think your hands are clean enough.’
‘Oh.’ Maya dropped the soap and turned off the tap. ‘Sorry, I was dreaming.’
Lubna smiled and handed her a towel. ‘I’ve got cousins in Derby,’ she said.
‘Oh, really,’ Maya answered, her mind elsewhere. Some more of the code words Nazim had uttered came into her mind. The decoy worked. The hounds are hunting south.
With a shiver of excitement she put two and two together. She’d been right, Omar’s men wanted the police to think they’d taken Pam to the farmhouse, but they hadn’t, they’d brought her north. It made sense. Nazim was here and he was one of the gang. Pam could be close by.
The cellar! Khaled had nearly had a fit when he’d found her at the door. He was warning her away. Her mind raced – she had to get a message to Simon.
Glancing across at Lubna who was waiting patiently, she fished for information. ‘It was nice of Omar to send food,’ she said. ‘Who is he?’
Lubna pressed her lips together. ‘Omar’s our leader,’ she said. ‘He’s very generous. Soon you will meet him.’
