Precious Metal

by Michelle Flatley

  Zareen shook her head. ‘What about my family?’

  Nikolae’s voice rose. ‘What about you? What about me?’

  She didn’t respond. ‘Come with me,’ he said. ‘I want to show you something.’

  Together they raced to the truck and Nikolae drove.

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘Moorview,’ he told her. ‘Moorview.’

  At the hospital they climbed past a metal board and made their way into the body of the hospital. ‘Up here.’ Zareen stopped in the great entrance hall and looked up. A domed glass ceiling sent light spinning around the room. Above them were the remnants of a glass chandelier, droplets tinkling, gently spinning. There was the flutter of wings. A tiny bird flapped in the dome, smacked against a pane of glass.

  ‘Trapped,’ Nikolae said.

  They ascended a grand staircase with a sweeping mahogany rail, but some of the turned balustrades were now missing, the paint flaking. Decorative coving wound its way around every room they passed and every ceiling was embellished with leaves and petals like white icing.

  ‘Beautiful building,’ Zareen said. Even the decay was somehow mesmerizing.

  On the large landing they stopped. ‘Are you sure this place is empty?’ Zareen tilted her head and listened. She could hear bird wings flapping, floorboards creaking, a door squeaking. The wind rushed through the cracks in the upper sash windows and pools of water collected on the sills. Somewhere metal was clanging. ‘A house of ghosts,’ she said. ‘It feels like people are here.’

  ‘Only us,’ Nikolae said, pressing his finger to her lips. They approached a large door.

  ‘Here,’ Nikolae said, pushing the door open.

  Little flames flickered and there were petals scattered on a large wooden bed. Candles everywhere. Roses glowing in the dim light, arranged on a snow white sheet.

  ‘You did this for me?’ Zareen turned to face him.

  ‘Yes.’ Nikolae’s face reddened. What if she rejected him? ‘I have protection,’ he said, taking a small box from his pocket. He stood awkwardly, feeling uncertain, worried he was rushing her. But Zareen pulled his face down towards her and felt his lips pressed against hers. They both stopped for a moment enjoying the silence. He led her to the bed and lay beside her. He saw her tiny face sharply etched against the crisp white sheet. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes,’ she murmured in his ear.

  Nikolae unclipped her hair and kissed her again. Like silk it splayed out, a Chinese fan of black.

  Slowly he removed her dress, touching her bare skin. They lay naked, holding each other’s faces for a while. Then when he could take it no more, Nikolae mounted her. He heard her gasp as she let him in, felt her body shudder beneath him. He watched her face ripple and move. Zareen clung to him and him to her. They could hardly breathe. She pulled him closer. Surrounded by him she let out a small cry. Nikolae called her name. And then he came.

  Chapter Fourteen

  BILAL FOUND THE diary under the kitchen table. He hadn’t seen it before. It was a small green book with wrinkled skin like an aged apple. He recognised the writing at once. Zareen. She must have dropped it this morning on her way to college. At first he picked the book up and placed it in her room. But then he sat on the bed and opened the pages. In the front of the book was a list of birthdays, names of family members and a small picture of Amna glued inside. He smiled and smoothed his finger over the face of the little girl.

  Dates and times of college classes were filled in with black pen, sometimes circled in red. A gold ribbon dangled from the spine. He remembered he had once kept a diary of his life in England and the births of his children were marked in bright colours. They had come into his life like stars in a dark sky.

  In the last month Zareen had filled the diary pages but her writing had become messy, frantic and almost illegible. He fumbled for the glasses that were hanging round his neck on a silver cord. That was better. Now he could see. He couldn’t make out all the words, but what he read disturbed him.

  If I marry Tariq my life will be over. I might as well be dead. What can I do? Run away. End it all. Go to Nikolae. Go to my family. Oh I forget. My family has deserted me. They think I have deserted them. But it is them who have deserted me.

  He turned to another page.

  Nikolae wants us to be together. It sounds so simple. But how can I give up everything. Then sometimes I feel as if I have nothing. None of them understand. Always it is about the family. Never me. Why can’t it be me? No wonder those other girls have chosen death. I never understood it before, but now I wonder about it. Sometimes at college I look out of the window and I feel dizzy. I imagine myself falling down. Down and down.

  Even when he tried to stop himself from reading Bilal couldn’t. He covered his face, made inaudible sounds, sounds of grief.

  How do you tell your family that you love them, but you hate everything they represent? How do you tell them that you can’t live the same way as them? I have tried. Really tried to be what they want. I have studied hard and what for? What was the point of it all?

  One day I might be free. I dream of that day. But then I feel sorry for my parents and I push those thoughts away. Three months ago I dreamed of university, of having a job, of having a life. What is there left for me now? Only marriage and marriage will be like playing dolls houses. I will pretend to be happy with Tariq when really I will just want the game to be over. The marriage won’t be real. Not to me.

  So what do I do? I know my father is ill. I know my family have been through so much. I don’t want them to suffer anymore. I don’t want them to be disappointed in me. That I can’t bear. I only know that when I have a daughter I don’t want things to be this way. I want her to have choices.

  I am full of hope and despair. Nikolae gives me hope, hope that someone accepts me for who I am. But despair is bigger than hope and let’s face it the moon always replaces the sun. Darkness always comes.

  Morals are a strange thing. People in our neighbourhood would say I’m immoral. How can I abandon my own kind, not follow the wishes of my parents? It’s not about respect. I respect them all. I understand. I can see both sides. But who is on my side. Only Nikolae.

  This is England. How can it be that there are women who are not free to choose their own destiny? I am trapped like a bird in a cage. In London I still wouldn’t be free. It would just be a gilded cage. My mother once told me something. There is an Indian saying. It goes like this:

  Even when a caged bird sings and has crumbs to eat she dreams of the liberty of the forest.

  So, I am starting to come to a decision. I have no choice. I know what to do.

  ‘MARIKA! MARIKA!’ Bilal’s voice could be heard bellowing throughout the whole street. ‘THE MARRIAGE IS OFF! Go and get Zareen. ‘THE MARRIAGE IS OFF!’

  Chapter Fifteen

  THE GIRL WAS sitting in the kitchen eating toast when Dragos got home. Her hair was in a plait down her back and she looked younger than her age. ‘She has to stay with us,’ Nikolae begged, ‘or they will make her marry her cousin.’

  Dragos tugged Nikolae out of the room so the girl couldn’t hear. ‘Her family will come here,’ Dragos said, his eyes glaring. ‘Don’t you see her family will come and then what will happen. You will be a dead man. They will burn us out.’

  ‘I need money,’ Nikolae said quietly. ‘Please, I need money.’

  ‘Running away will not solve this,’ Dragos boomed.

  ‘We have no choice,’ Nikolae said. He thought for a moment. It was 3pm. Zareen’s parents were collecting her in an hour from college

  ‘There is little time. It’s the only way.’

  Dragos nodded, a look of resignation on his face. He could read his son like a book. ‘I hope this girl is worth it.’ He took down a biscuit tin from the shelf and prised the lid open with a knife. ‘Here.’

  ‘Wher
e from?’ Nikolae gasped at the large bundle in his hand.

  ‘Money from metal,’ Dragos said. ‘Take it. Eight hundred pounds. I had good few weeks. And I been to that Moorview. Andrei was right. Like gold spaghetti.’

  Nikolae frowned. ‘Dangerous on your own. And this, are you sure I can take this? What about you?’

  Dragos patted his back. ‘I was careful. Rubber boots.’ He lifted his foot in the air and pointed at his shoes. ‘And gloves.’ Dragos seemed tearful for a moment. ‘Where will you go?’

  ‘I will call you,’ Nikolae said, gulping because he knew he might cry. He lifted the mattress in the front room and retrieved his passport. ‘Just for ID. But I need the truck.’ Dragos didn’t reply.

  Along the length of the wall were copper pipes stacked high. Long lengths of copper shining bright.

  ‘What’s this?’ Nikolae said, confused. He touched the metal and felt it cold on his fingers.

  ‘Oh. I am giving Mr Ahmed his heating pipes back and fixing central heating, or when he finds out pipes are gone he will have heart attack, or kick us out.’

  ‘An honest Romanian?’ Nikolae laughed. He looked serious for a moment. ‘What is there for you in this dead town? Come with us.’

  Dragos shook his head and hugged his son. ‘You joking! Land of opportunity, my son. You look after Zareen. Strange name.’

  ‘It means golden,’ Nikolae said.

  Dragos smiled at the girl. ‘Well you have your precious metal and I have mine.’

  Zareen listened to the wind roar through the truck window. From the road they saw the crooked houses on the hill and the gold mosque in the distance. Eventually the shiny roof was gone. Nikolae took her hand. ‘Zareen. Precious metal,’ he said. ‘Precious metal.’

  Acknowledgements

  WITH THANKS TO Jen and Chris Hamilton-Emery for a precious opportunity

  Also available from Modern Dreams

  Devil On Your Back by Denny Brown

  Sky Hooks by Neil Campbell

  The Pharmacist by Justin David

  Precious Metal by Michelle Flatley

  Albion by Jon Gale

  Marg by Jones Jones

  The Blame by Michael Nolan