The Secret Lives of the Amir Sisters

by Nadiya Hussain

  ‘Let you in?’ I said. ‘Let you into my house?’

  ‘Far—’

  ‘—I wouldn’t let you into within an inch of this country, if it was up to me.’

  ‘Listen—’

  But before he could finish the sentence I’d slammed the door in his face, grabbed my car keys from the kitchen counter, before opening the door again and dragging him by the arm into my car.

  ‘What are you doing?’ he said. ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘To the police station,’ I said, buckling up my seatbelt.

  ‘What? No, wait—’

  ‘—I’ve waited long enough.’

  I stepped on the accelerator and the car tyres screeched as I turned into Mum and Dad’s road. Of course I wasn’t going to take him to the police station, but it was good to see he had the fear of something in him.

  ‘Get out,’ I said when he saw we’d parked outside our parents’ house.

  ‘Far, can we just talk? Just you and me. Please?’

  I couldn’t look at him, his shoulders slouched, because if I did then I might be inclined to hear him out and he didn’t deserve that. I got out of the car and when I walked into my family’s home he at least had the decency to follow me.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Mae was sitting on the sofa, flicking through the TV channels when she looked over my shoulder. ‘What the …?’

  ‘Hey, Squirt.’

  Mae’s eyes flicked towards me and Jay.

  ‘Do you have a death wish?’ she said, looking at Jay.

  ‘Where are Mum and Dad?’ I asked. ‘And Bubblee and Malik?’

  ‘In bed,’ she replied, sitting up and switching the television off.

  ‘Aren’t you going to give your big brother a hug?’

  She got up and went to hug him, half-embarrassed.

  ‘That’s more like it,’ he said, tightening his grip around her, glancing at me.

  ‘Mae, go to bed,’ I said.

  ‘What?’ she said. ‘No.’

  ‘Mae. Go to bed.’

  She shook her head slowly as she repeated ‘No,’ enunciating as much as she could. I didn’t have the energy to argue with her.

  ‘That’s all anyone tells me to do,’ she said, looking at Jay, who watched her in amusement. ‘“Go to bed, Mae. Get me tea, Mae. See what your sister’s doing, Mae.”’

  ‘What is all this noise?’ came Dad’s voice as he walked down the stairs.

  He stopped as soon as he saw Jay.

  ‘Fatti’s Mum,’ he called out. ‘Fatti’s Mum.’

  That was the first time I’d heard Dad call Mum that since before Jay was born. He was still stood in the middle of the staircase when Mum emerged, asking what was going on. Then she saw him.

  ‘Oh, my son,’ she exclaimed, almost knocking Dad out of the way and rushing down the stairs. ‘My son, my son, my son, my son.’

  She held his face in her hands, staring at the lines on his brow, the droop of his eyelids. Why do our parents seem to have selective memories? By the time Mum’s dramatics had finished Bubblee and Malik had also come downstairs. Bubblee accidentally bumped into Malik on the way through the door but he ignored her as she said sorry.

  ‘Well, you’ve got a nerve,’ said Bubblee to Jay.

  She glanced at Malik whose brows were furrowed in contempt. Jay rubbed his hand over his face as we all looked at him. I thought of when he was a child with his mouth covered in chocolate, his little finger placed in the dimple of his chin because he said he liked to make sure it was still there. He looked around at us but his eyes rested on me.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

  ‘Sorry?’ said Bubblee. ‘Do you realise what you’ve done? Do you ever think of anyone but yourself?’

  She went on for a few moments with this train of questions. Jay didn’t seem to have an answer for any of them. He sat down on the sofa, his eyes flitting from person to person.

  ‘Where’s Fatti?’

  ‘Adopted,’ replied Bubblee.

  ‘What?’

  ‘My sister’s in Bangladesh,’ said Malik.

  ‘Your sister?’ Jay’s face creased in confusion.

  ‘Our sister,’ corrected Bubblee.

  ‘You have a lot of catching up to do,’ I said to Jay, folding my arms.

  But I was thinking, He’s back. He’s recovered some of the money. Things might just be okay. The consolation of this let me cling to the anger rather than giving way to despair.

  ‘You must be tired, Son. Why don’t you rest tonight?’ said Dad.

  ‘Tired?’ exclaimed Bubblee. ‘She’s the one who’s tired.’ She flung her arm towards me. ‘Her husband’s in a coma, she’s about to lose her house, everything, and he’s the one being offered a rest.’

  Dad looked at Mum, but she was staring at Jay.

  ‘I have some explaining to do,’ he said. ‘I know.’

  ‘Did you manage it?’ asked Mae, looking at him, smiling in encouragement.

  Hope doesn’t seem to last very long in this house. His crestfallen face said it all. I gasped without any tears escaping. It was the only thing that could’ve helped and now, whether I got Mustafa back or not, we’d lose our home.

  ‘You haven’t recovered any of the money?’ I whispered, clutching to what was left of my sanity.

  ‘I’m sorry, Far,’ he said, looking me straight in the eye. As if to say, Hey, I gave it a go. It didn’t work. At least I tried.

  Nothing. He had nothing. He explained how he’d got into some trouble and that he no longer had any money at all – no place to stay, no friends to help him. He wasn’t here to save me; he was here to save himself.

  ‘Uncle, Auntie,’ said Malik. ‘I’m sorry to be so frank, but this is the son you’ve put so high on a pedestal, when your daughters …’ He looked at the three of us and paused. ‘How proud you should be of them.’

  Mum shook her head as tears ran down her cheeks. ‘How much we’ve worried for you, Jahangeer. How much I’ve prayed for you and asked God to bring you back to me safely, but see how much damage you’ve done?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Amma. Abba,’ he added, looking at Dad.

  ‘Okay,’ said Dad. ‘Let’s all go to bed and we will talk about everything tomorrow.’

  Mae brought down sheets and a blanket for Jay who’d sleep on the sofa while I shared with Mae and Bubblee. I could feel his eyes on me as I left the room and walked up the stairs.

  ‘Good night, Far,’ he said.

  I wasn’t ready to wish him a good anything.

  *

  The following morning Dad knocked on our bedroom door and asked Mae and Bubblee to give us a minute. He looked at me for a while as Bubblee pushed Mae out of the room.

  ‘He ruined everything,’ I said to Dad as he closed the door behind them.

  Dad sat down and patted my hand. ‘He was always a very naughty boy.’

  ‘Naughty? Is that all? I hope you’re not here to make excuses for him, Abba, because honestly—’

  ‘—Ssh, ssh, ssh, Babba.’ He put his arm around me and I rested my head on his chest. ‘I’m here to say sorry to you.’

  I looked up at him.

  ‘There are times when a father has to think about how he’s raised his children. You were always a very good girl.’

  ‘Not your favourite,’ I said.

  ‘Parents don’t have favourites.’

  I raised my eyebrows.

  ‘Fatti is something special,’ he added. ‘She came to us when we had no hope of having any children. Still, each of you has a special place here.’ He patted his chest. ‘But when Jahangeer was born we thought God had heard all our prayers. This would be the man who would look after our family when we grew old. He would protect his sisters from harm.’

  I shook my head at the very idea.

  ‘Maybe it is our fault. So much expectation on one person – how can someone ever live up to it?’

  ‘You’re making excuses for him again. He’s an adult,’ I said.


  ‘He will feel his mistakes, Faru. But because of it, I must feel mine too.’

  I looked up at his brown, freckled face.

  ‘Will you forgive me?’ he asked.

  I put my hand in his and nodded because I didn’t have the energy to be angry any more. It was costing too much, and my parents were worried enough about Fatti as it was. Anyway, hadn’t they tried their best, bringing up five children in a foreign place, wanting to fit in and yet wanting to maintain the culture they loved? Yes, I had things to blame them for, but the things I had to be thankful for far outweighed those. Mum opened the door and saw us, sitting on the bed.

  ‘I’ll make your favourite breakfast,’ she said to me.

  That was probably the best apology Mum could muster. It was hard to believe that she’d gone through what I was going through, wanting to become a mum. But here she stood – with a very problematic but equally present family. For me, just then, she was hope.

  We were all in the kitchen and for a room crowded with people there wasn’t a lot of conversation, apart from Mae, who gave Jay some kind of nutritional information on the sweet, thick tea he was given to drink.

  ‘How long are you here for?’ Jay asked Malik.

  ‘As long as it takes for Baia to wake up.’

  ‘Do you want some water?’ Bubblee asked Malik.

  ‘No, thank you,’ he replied without looking at her.

  Mae had made a smoothie, which she put in front of him. He picked it up and observed the contents. ‘What is it this morning?’ asked Malik. ‘This is very green.’

  ‘That, dear Baia, is me making you a healthier person,’ she replied.

  ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘If only all of your sisters tried that,’ he mumbled.

  Bubblee’s face went a shade of red. Jay was too busy playing with his breakfast to notice anything. It was only when I stood up to get ready that he got up too.

  ‘Can I speak with you? In private?’ he asked.

  I couldn’t bring myself to say yes, but when I went up the stairs and into Mae’s room he walked in behind me.

  ‘This place looks the same as when I left it,’ he said. ‘Remember this was my room for years?’

  I began folding some of Mae’s T-shirts, just to have something to do.

  ‘How long will it take for you to forgive me?’ he asked.

  I turned to him.

  ‘Is this troubling you – not having your naïve sister cover for you? Now Mum and Dad can see you for who you actually are?’

  He stepped closer, his under-eyes dark from lack of sleep.

  ‘I could say sorry a thousand times, Far, but it wouldn’t matter. I just want you to know that I’m going to do everything I can to help.’

  ‘How nice of you.’

  He paused. ‘I’ve made a lot of promises in the past so I won’t make any now. You’ll see it from the things I do this time.’

  Then he stepped up to me, kissed my forehead and left the room. I sat on the bed, holding on to Mae’s T-shirt, wondering what it was he could possibly do to bring my husband back to me.

  When we all got to the hospital I watched Jay look at Mustafa and wondered what he was thinking. How sorry was he? His face seemed blank, as if he was there because it was the right thing to do, rather than because he actually wanted to be there.

  ‘That’s your handiwork,’ I said to him, looking at Mustafa’s inert body, wondering if I’d ever feel his arms wrapped around me again.

  Mum and Dad didn’t try to defend Jay. He continued to look at Mustafa as he nodded.

  ‘It should be me in a coma,’ he said.

  ‘Don’t say things like that,’ said Mum.

  ‘Yes, it should be.’ I watched Jay, waiting for a reaction. He stood with his head bowed low, maybe taking all I was saying as a kind of punishment. ‘But it’s not,’ I said, sighing from the tiredness I felt in my bones. ‘It’s not.’

  When I was in the room with Mustafa, alone again, I took his hand.

  ‘What’s going to happen to you?’ I asked him.

  There was a piece of fluff on his cheek that I removed. I took some ice I’d got, wrapped it in some tissue and placed it against his parched mouth.

  ‘What if you don’t wake up and I lose our home?’ When I put my hand in his I missed his fingers clasping around mine. ‘But if you do wake up, don’t think I’ll forgive you just like that. That’s not how it’s going to work. Because …’ I paused. What if he could hear me? I leaned in closer, looking at the crease in his neck, tracing it with my finger. ‘I can live without you. I’ve realised that. I just don’t want to.’

  ‘Any room at the inn?’ said Mae as she walked into my house that evening with Bubblee. ‘I’ve been chucked out of my room for the prodigal son.’

  ‘Ugh. I don’t know how you can be polite to him after everything,’ said Bubblee to her. ‘I mean, the nerve of him, just turning up and expecting to be forgiven.’

  Mae took her phone out and laughed at a message she’d received.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ asked Bubblee.

  ‘Malik,’ she replied.

  ‘Aren’t you two just the best of friends?’

  Mae looked up and scrunched up her nose. ‘Yeah – he was kind of annoying at first, wasn’t he? But he’s all right, really. Comes out with some funny stuff. And it’s not his accent I’m laughing at.’

  ‘You’re such a racist,’ I said to her. ‘Mustafa sounds similar to him.’

  Mae and Bubblee both looked at each other, trying not to laugh.

  ‘Yeah, we know,’ replied Mae. She put her hands on Bubblee’s shoulders. ‘If only you weren’t such a miserable cow you might see that he’s funny too.’

  Bubblee took her wrists and handed them back to Mae as she went into the kitchen and put the kettle on.

  ‘Did you see Mum rush down the stairs like that?’ she said, shaking her head. ‘As if Jay hasn’t ruined the whole family?’

  I told them both about Dad’s apology to me.

  ‘What does that even mean?’ asked Bubblee.

  I shrugged. ‘Maybe they see him a little clearer now.’

  ‘Well, it’s a little late, isn’t it? The damage is done.’

  I turned to her. ‘Bubs, go easy on them, will you? Do they really deserve the same kind of contempt you show everyone else?’

  She looked away as the kettle began to boil. Mae was still on her phone, typing a message.

  ‘What are you saying to him?’ asked Bubblee.

  ‘Oooh,’ replied Mae, ‘aren’t we interested in what Malik has to say? Could the stony heart of our independent sister be melting?’ she said, looking over at me as I raised my eyebrows.

  ‘I’m wondering whether you’ll always be this annoying, or if you might grow out of it,’ replied Bubblee.

  ‘Don’t worry, Bubs,’ she said, slouching on the sofa. ‘We’re all wondering the same about you.’

  She made us all tea – Mae herbal, of course – and brought it over to the coffee table.

  ‘I say we kick Jay out of the house and let him reap what he’s sown,’ said Bubblee.

  ‘You know,’ I replied, putting my feet on the coffee table, ‘for once I don’t actually disagree with you.’

  The three of us sat in silence for a while. Mae twirled the teabag around in her mug, Bubblee was looking into her mug as if she was reading her tea leaves and I just felt this emptiness around us. And this time it wasn’t my husband.

  ‘I wonder how she is,’ said Bubblee, as if she’d read my mind.

  ‘She’ll be back soon, so we’ll find out,’ I replied. ‘What does she say to you when she messages?’ I asked Mae.

  She shrugged. ‘Just one-liners really, saying she’s fine and Bangladesh is hot.’

  Bubblee shook her head. ‘Classic Fatti.’

  ‘Do you think she’ll come back and decide to pack her things, move to Bangladesh and never come back again?’ asked Mae.

  ‘No,’ I replied. ‘No; surely not.’

  But
the truth is, I wasn’t sure.

  ‘She may very well have found her spiritual home,’ added Bubblee, which wasn’t much comfort.

  ‘But we’re her family,’ said Mae. ‘This is her home.’

  Bubblee looked at her and nodded. ‘I know.’

  Mae took a few sips of her tea before she said: ‘Don’t think Jay likes Malik much.’

  I had to laugh. ‘Poor Malik, he’s had a bit of a tough time with this family.’

  ‘That’s rich,’ said Bubblee. ‘Who the hell is Jay to have a say on anything? Sure, Malik’s annoying but at least he’s stuck it out with us. Especially, you know … considering.’

  Bubblee raised her mug to her lips, but seemed to forget to take a sip. When you got past how irritating her constant pessimism was, it was quite amusing to watch her acknowledge she’d been difficult, without actually admitting it.

  ‘School all right?’ she asked Mae.

  Mae lifted her legs to her knees, cupping her mug closer to her. ‘It’s fine.’

  I looked at our little sister and realised that in all the chaos of our worlds we never think about what she’s going through at school. Pooja told me that Sanjay said she was having a hard time and yet I hadn’t once asked her if she was okay. This would be the time she could rail and rant about things and yet she just shrugs and says she’s fine. It’s funny, because to look at them you wouldn’t think she and Fatti were alike, and yet they are so similar in so many ways.

  ‘That’s not what I heard,’ I said.

  ‘Who? Who’s giving you a hard time?’ said Bubblee, leaning forward.

  ‘Oh, God, that Malik and his big mouth,’ she said. ‘You’ve got Bubs going,’ said Mae to me.

  ‘Malik?’ I replied. ‘What does he know? I heard it from Pooja.’

  She shrugged. ‘Oh. Whatevs. Doesn’t matter.’

  After we told her to give us the full story, she told us about the fight she got into and how Malik ended up dragging her away.

  ‘Oh, Mae. You muppet,’ I said. ‘Why didn’t you say?’

  ‘Nothing I can’t handle,’ she replied.

  ‘Why was he at your school?’ asked Bubblee.

  ‘God, don’t act like you think he was perving on schoolgirls,’ replied Mae. Then she explained that he’d come to see her because he’d been worried about her.