“Don’t yell at me,” Walter said. “At least you knew something.”
“I clearly didn’t know this; she said she had time off work only to recover from the shock, like a holiday for nerve recuperation. She never mentioned anything about a lawsuit,” Henrik was enraged.
“Maybe she didn’t know about it?” Walter suggested.
“Of course she knew about it. She has been funny about the whole affair from the beginning. Now I know why. She could have at least told me. I have business contacts that might suffer from this. This could back fire really badly for me if her name gets in the press. There are not many Korhonens in the UK. I wish she had bloody told me,” he ranted on. “I have a business reputation and a job to think about, you know and Sunita and her career as a model.”
“Don’t be so dramatic and selfish Henrik. There is more at stake here than your business contacts. To think that she came here of all places to hide away, where everything revolves around her mother,” Walter observed. “I am going to ring Patrick. We need to tell your brother. He has to speak to her; he has the best connection to your sister.”
“How are you going to do that? Do you even know where he is right now?” Henrik asked.
“No, but I am going to call him anyway. Someone must pick up his messages for him,” Walter replied defiantly.
The phone was dead and it took him a little while to figure out that the cable had been unplugged. The second Walter reconnected the phone it started to ring.
He picked it up and listened.
“Do you think Mr White has a case against you?” someone asked without any pre-text.
“Who is this?” Walter asked abruptly.
“Hanna needs to get her side of the story out,” the voice continued. “Get her on the phone; it’s in her best interest.”
Walter hung up without as much as a “No comment.”
“That was a reporter,” he told Henrik. “How did the press get her name even?” Walter asked. “Isn’t this all confidential information?”
“The company makes them wear name badges. There are up to three hundred passengers on those planes. That part must have been easy for the journalists.”
“But they are calling here to speak with her. What are we going to do? Your mother can’t be disturbed by people calling and knocking on the door. For heaven’s sake, what was Hanna thinking.”
“Just call Patrick,” Henrik said sarcastically. “That will solve everything.”
He was breathing heavily, trying to keep his anger at bay and kept looking at the wall to avoid his father’s gaze.
Patrick was not answering his phone, as had been expected. When the answer machine kicked in Walter had no idea what to tell his son. He suggested to the machine that Patrick try to call Henrik’s mobile phone to get in touch with the rest of the family, and that he do so as soon as possible, but he didn’t tell him why.
Then Walter pulled the cable out of the socket. None of those nosy journalists would disturb his wife’s sleep. The family would just have to do without a phone for a while.
“They are already calling this number, the item is on the radio - it won’t be long before we get them here camped by the front door,” Henrik said gloomily. “Tomorrow it will be in the newspapers. They will probably print her name and a picture if they can get hold of one. That will be the end of peace and quiet,” he began pacing around the room. “Well, maybe it is not so bad. Let’s talk to Hanna. Hopefully the airline will have arranged a press conference or issued a statement that makes the whole thing less of a story. These things can blow over really quickly.”
When she came downstairs Hanna took a moment to take in the news about her story being on the radio.
“The airline has asked me not to discuss the case with anyone, especially not the press. I signed a document,” she said mechanically while the news began to sink in properly. “Exactly what did they say on the radio? How are they handling the story?” Hanna asked her brother as she became increasingly agitated by the realisation.
“Their angle appears to be in your favour,” her brother reassured her. “You are the heroic poor girl who just did her job and now gets sued by a miserable and bitter old guy who has too much money.”
“Good,” said Hanna, relieved.
“Don’t count on it staying like that,” Henrik warned her.
“Don’t listen to him Hanna,” Walter said and shot his son a disapproving look.
“We can’t protect her from the truth,” Henrik defended himself. “I’m sorry Hanna, but I think it is better if you are aware of what might come your way. Today’s news sells better with a new angle and a twist tomorrow. That’s life in the limelight for you. Don’t you agree?”
Hanna said nothing for a while but switched her mobile back on. “I better make some phone calls.”
With that she went upstairs.
Richard Lewis, the union lawyer answered on the first ring.
“I gather you have heard the news?” Hanna asked him.
“I had a call from the airline. Mr White, the bereaved billionaire, has issued a press statement today about the case. They have faxed me a copy of it. Despite all the money that he owns he does not seem to have used the best of lawyers or the best public relations people: it is all being done very amateurishly. As it stands the company does not expect much of a threat from him. They insist, however, that you stick to the agreement and do not speak to the press directly or even via a third party.”
“Richard, my main concern right now is that I am staying with my family and the press have already called my father’s landline. As you know, my mother is ill and we really can’t have all the fuss happening here.”
“I don’t think there is much you can do about it now, Hanna. I don’t think the press will lay siege to your house but if they decide that the story is a good one then they will find you. Maybe move house or go and stay with someone who is not related to you. The press office is releasing a statement later today, along the lines that there was no misconduct, that they are proud of their training and their record of saving lives on the aircraft. That might take the edge off it. They have a bunch of statistics that put them in a very good light. So far the public and the media are treating this as a laughing matter.”
“Do I need to do anything myself? Ring my manager or Nicky?” Hanna asked.
“We will have our meetings on Tuesday as planned. Until then try to stay out of the limelight and speak to no one,” he advised her.
“Thanks. I will try.”
Hanna hung up and then decided to call Karim.
To her relief Karim was up and answered the phone after a few rings.
“A call from a celebrity! I am honoured,” he said jokingly.
“So you heard the news.”
“Yes I did. What a nuisance.”
“Oh yes. I am already getting calls from journalists and we are worried that there will be press outside the house soon. My mother is ill and won’t be able to cope with people calling and coming to the door.”
“What about your place in London?” Karim asked.
“It’s not big enough for me and my parents. And if they have found me here they will find me there, or at any of my family’s homes.”
“How about you stay at my place? I can go and stay with my sister and help out there,” Karim offered.
Hanna paused and took in what had just been said. It was an incredibly kind offer but what was she letting herself and her family in for? She had only known the man for a few days.
“Thank you for the offer but I hardly know you,” was what her mind rapidly came up with.
“That’s true but I think that it’s exactly why it is a good idea. Besides, I am already kind of involved; I know all the details and I would like to help,” Karim added.
“I will think about it,” she said.
At that point the doorbell rang.
“I have to go,” Hanna said and hung up. She ran down the stairs but Henrik was a step
ahead of her.
“I will handle this,” he said. He took a second to build himself up before he opened the door forcefully.
“Did you order takeout?” asked an Indian biker standing outside.
“Yes,” Henrik said with a sigh of relief.
Biddy was still sound asleep as the rest of the family unpacked the take out.
“I say don’t waste any time getting away from here. Leave immediately after lunch before things heat up,” Henrik recommended. “If there is going to be a media circus it will be here soon, while the story is fresh. Tomorrow this might be old news.”
“But where should we go?” Walter asked.
“Journalists have a habit of talking to people and finding out who your friends are. If they are keen and the story is big enough they will find you at any place around here,” Henrik told his father.
“We can stay with the paramedic,” Hanna said.
“With your date?” Walter asked disapprovingly.
“With my friend!” Hanna corrected him. “I can’t think of any better place to go right now. We have no obvious connection to him; I’d be surprised if the press found us there. Hopefully it will only be for a night or two.”
“Perfect!” Henrik exclaimed. “If you ask me, do it now. Go straight over to the paramedic. You can always order new food if needed or reheat this.” Henrik suggested.
“For once I agree with your brother,” Walter said to Hanna. “Let’s do this now!”
He rushed upstairs and packed their suitcase while Hanna called Karim.
“I am sorry to spring this on you so soon but could I take you up on your offer and stay at yours after all?”
“Of course, come on over,” Karim said warmly.
Chapter 16: A New Home
Henrik was the first to arrive at Karim’s flat. When he rang the doorbell and Karim opened he could not help but laugh. His sister was dating - or almost dating - an ‘oriental’ as her father would call it. Henrik was looking forward to the expression on Walter’s face.
The first time that Walter met Sunita, Henrik’s Indian girlfriend, was still vivid in his memory. Walter had called Sunita an: “exotic and oriental woman”, much to the outcry of everyone there, and his old man had been uncomfortable around her ever since.
Henrik loved the idea of another Korhonen ‘child’ hooking up with an ‘exotic and oriental’ person. And Walter had already accepted their generosity and hospitality.
“Thank you so much for helping us out,” Henrik said.
“My pleasure,” Karim said warmly.
The place was smaller than Henrik had anticipated. It was not a house, not even a maisonette. Even though there was a separate entrance the corridor suggested no upstairs.
“How long have you been dating my sister?” Henrik asked with a cheeky smile.
“We are not dating. I am just trying to help her out,” replied Karim, blushing a little.
“That is a shame.”
Henrik had a look around while Karim was still tidying up the place. The doorbell rang a few minutes later while Karim was on the phone to his sister so it fell on Henrik to let the rest of the Korhonens in and to lead them into the kitchen. Hanna did not quite understand why her brother had a sly smile on his face.
“A bit small for all of us,” Walter pointed out.
“Yes, Dad. But we won’t be staying long,” Hanna explained.
“What is his name again?” Walter asked, just as the man himself entered the room.
“Karim. Nice to meet you Mr Korhonen,” their host was genial and welcoming. “I have already met your wife Biddy on the way to the hospital, under less pleasant circumstances unfortunately.”
“I am not sure how pleasant the circumstances are going to be this time,” Walter said seriously but then he suddenly clicked. The realisation sank in that his daughter was dating an Arab? A Muslim? That was not like her. She was such a feminist and Walter found it very difficult to imagine that Karim and Hanna would be a good match. Or was that her new thing? Islam? Were Buddhism and meditation on their way out? Just when you thought there were no more surprises left.
“Well, let us try and make the best of the situation,” Karim said kindly. “I know my flat is not too luxurious but there is enough space for the three of you. I will be staying with my sister.”
“We can’t possibly accept that,” Walter refused. “We can’t drive you from your own house.”
“Yes, especially with all the noise and drama at your sister’s place,” Hanna added. “You are working shifts, you need your peace.”
“No, don’t worry. Please. The arrangements have already been made and my sister is looking forward to me staying for a few days. Hanna, remember I said I want to spend more time with my family,” Karim argued.
“True, you did say that,” Hanna admitted.
“Good. It’s settled then.”
Biddy put her hand on Hanna’s knee and said: “Can you tell me where your bathroom is?” It was a question she sometimes had to ask at her own house. Hanna took her there and Biddy followed her daughter with the same trust as she always did.
After they had eaten the reheated take-out, Walter took Biddy to her new bed for her afternoon snooze. He was worried that his wife might not sleep or that she might wake up suddenly and get scared by the unfamiliar environment and so he decided to stay in the room with her, reading his book.
If Biddy should find the new environment alienating, then that would serve as evidence for his theory about his wife’s need for continuity and routine. This was a very worthwhile experiment and he hoped it would prove him right. Then he could tell his son Henrik about the unsuitability of care homes, which would also be new and unfamiliar environments for Biddy.
Henrik said his goodbyes and left Karim and Hanna alone in the kitchen.
“I better go as well now,” Karim said. “Would you like to come with me?” he asked Hanna. “I have still not introduced you to my mother.”
“Sure, why not. With Dad trying to find his bearings, I am just going to go mad here,” Hanna replied.
Karim got into the car with her, assuring her that he would come back with her to get his bicycle later. At the mansion they were greeted by chaos. Two teenage boys were fighting with water pistols in the hallway, without paying the least attention to their surroundings or the visitors. The place was cluttered with shoes and bags.
A beautiful and immaculately styled woman greeted them in the hallway. She had dark hair and a beautiful complexion, slim, with not an ounce of fat on her, and a slightly bony face.
“Nice to meet you Hanna. I am Shahnaz. We heard about your story on the radio. I hope you got yourself a good lawyer!”
“Hanna you don’t have to talk about it,” Karim tried to interfere.
“It’s fine,” Hanna reassured him. “I don’t mind.”
“The whole thing sounds so ridiculous,” Shahnaz said passionately. “If that man succeeded no one would ever volunteer to help another human being ever again. It is quite frightening. For you and your colleagues too, Karim.”
“That is exactly why I can’t see this getting anywhere,” he agreed. “The entire country would be in uproar.”
“How was your break in Wales?” Hanna asked.
“Oh, it was lovely, until we had a phone call and my husband had to go back to work,” Shahnaz sighed.
“How is mother?” Karim asked.
“She is great, as always. Farzan only just left a few minutes ago. She is probably asleep.”
“Let’s go and find out,” Karim said to Hanna and led her up the magnificent staircase.
“Your sister seems very nice,” Hanna said to him as they walked up the grand stairs. “Pretty much as you described her, but much less neurotic than you made her out to be,” she whispered.
“I am sorry if I misled you. I just meant to warn you that she has her peculiarities but there is no doubt she has a heart of gold.”
They reached his mother’s room and
Karim knocked gently before opening the door to have a peek inside.
“Come on in. I am not dead yet!” a cheerful voice called out to them.
The two did as they were told and were greeted by two sparkling eyes in an otherwise lifeless body.
“Lovely to meet you, young lady. My name is Fariba. My son tells me you are an air stewardess? That is very glamorous,” Fariba said with wide, excited eyes.
“Thank you. I think that word is probably too grand a description for the way things are these days,” Hanna said modestly.
“I am sure it is.” Fariba nodded. “I love airlines and everything about them. You know in the 70s Iran Air was one of the top world airlines,” she said. “Under General Khademi it had a fantastic reputation for comfort and safety. They nearly bought a Concorde, too. Back then we could fly from Tehran to Paris or London and feel like part of the Western Civilization. I loved to fly. I do miss it.”
“It is different now than it was then,” Hanna said. “More people can afford to travel and some airlines treat it no differently than a bus or a train journey.”
“Is First Class still as good as it used to be?” Fariba wanted to know.
“It all depends on the airline you fly with, of course, but it is still pretty good,” Hanna admitted.
“I hear business travel has flat beds for everyone now. That must be exciting,” Fariba said.
“Well, I find that there is generally a distinct lack of excitement on the planes these days,” Hanna corrected her. “Travellers are more stressed than pleased to be on a plane, even the premium customers. Few are as chatty as they used to be and their interaction with us can be much more business-like.”
“How about your lay-overs? I remember I once spoke with a United Airlines stewardess. She said her life was like a constant holiday, days by the pool in one place, then flying on to somewhere else,” Fariba said. “When they came to Tehran they had stopped in several places before and then they stopped again before going back.”
“Well, planes can go further now without refuelling so they stop less often - if at all. We now tend to go only to one place on every trip. A lot of our extra days by the pool have disappeared,” Hanna told her.
Time to Let Go Page 16
