by Farah Cook
‘She is our mother. How can you hate her this much?’ I recall her written words. The resentment in her diary for Mum and for me. I want to reason with her. She needs to know Mum doesn’t hate her and neither do I. Mum’s been haunted by her disappearance her entire life, collecting pieces of information in newspapers. Every day she hoped to read the front-page news about her daughter.
‘Mum has poured her soul, blood and energy into raising us without wanting anything in return. She needs you, Mona. Needs you to be her daughter, to love her.’
‘How can I love her, when she never loved me? All those years pretending I never existed. I must put an end to this, to what she did to me. But before I do—’
‘Wait, stop!’ I step back.
She raises her arms towards me and has her hands clasped tightly around my neck. The wind blows in hard, whipping her long hair around me like a rope. I push her back. My teeth grind and pressure fills my jaw. I let out a groan.
‘What did I ever do to you?’ I shout. ‘I don’t deserve this.’ Tears sting my eyes.
Shock etches across her face. She steps back. The creak of wood expands then cracks. I whirl around, but she grabs my wrist and pulls me close. Her eyes are full of anger. She drops forward and leans in close and presses the handkerchief in her hand against my nose. I push back, but my arms fall to my side. She holds the pressure firmly, and I begin to feel dizzy. Nausea swells inside my stomach. Slowly, my eyes fall shut. I feel myself drop, my body weak. I try not to breathe, but that’s impossible. I slip and tumble down the stairs.
Chapter 43
AFRAH
Tuesday, 24 December 2019
I am tied to a chair and can’t move my hands or feet. I look around the room where I have been brought to. It is dimly lit. Something is burning. Candles flicker in the distance. Blue flames are dancing. From my mouth, I cough out mucous. I try to speak, to shout, but the pain allows me only to whimper. My tongue feels swollen. The ropes against my wrists and ankles are tied tight. I am aware of everything around me, aware of the danger I might be in. I see her face, pale, like she’s dead.
‘Let go of me,’ I say. My voice is close to cracking. I feel weak, as if anytime soon I will collapse. I twist, moving my body from side to side. The chair tips back and leans against the wall. A shadow hovers over me. ‘Who are you?’
The woman with dark hair steps in front of me. Purple shadows circle underneath her eyes. She laughs, and then a strange smirk sits across her lips. She is familiar. But I can’t place her in my memory.
‘Don’t you recognise your own daughter, Afrah?’
I squint. ‘You are not my daughter. What have you done to Amira?’
‘It was always her, wasn’t it, Ami? You chose that little brat over me, and left me to die in that forsaken house. You even left your husband to burn.’
‘Mona? Is that you?’
‘Mona is dead. You killed her.’ She pulls the chair up and cuts me loose with a kitchen knife. My body buckles in shock. ‘All those years I resented you for what you did. If it hadn’t been for Naima’s mum who took me in, I would have ended up back with you. But I could never go back to you. I know what you did. And you know what you did—’
‘Meri beti. You are alive.’ I begin to cry. I don’t believe my eyes. ‘Meena, you are my Meena.’ I stretch out my arms. I want to hold her and never let her go. I want to ask her why she went with Sultana? Why didn’t she come back to me? Why did she punish me all these years, making me believe she was dead?
‘Don’t you dare call me that. You have no right after what you did.’ She places the knife against my neck and draws a line of blood. I take a deep breath.
‘No, please.’ She is not the way I raised her. But I cannot blame her. Sultana took her from me. She raised her with the same vengeful spirit she carried. The door is open, and I see the swirling stairwell leading down is narrow. I won’t get far before she stops me. The place looks eerie, with candles placed in tall holders as if she’s performing some kind of sadistic ritual. She catches the rapid movement in my eyes and cackles, shaking her head.
‘Don’t even think about running away, Ami.’ The tip of the knife touches my chin. ‘There’s nowhere you can go and there’s no one to rescue you. The house is empty. Everyone has gone. It’s just you and me.’ She pulls my hair and yanks me down.
‘Please, I am your mother.’ I want to reason with her. ‘Let me go! Mona, listen—’
She yells into my face, mimicking my words like some savage beast.
‘I told you, Mona is dead. You killed her that night in the fire. You are a murderer.’
‘What happened that night was an accident, believe me. I would never hurt you. I have lived with the guilt ever since. If I could go back and change things, I would.’ I want to bite my nails. A sudden flash of my dreams sweeps through my mind. She looks at me and throws my black diary at my feet. She says she read the garbage I wrote. There’s no guilt, just confessions without forgiveness.
‘You say you’d go back and change things, but you can’t Ami. Nothing can undo what you did.’ She carries such contempt and anger in her eyes. ‘All these years, you lived a happy life with Amira giving her all your love. You went as far away as possible forgetting you ever had another daughter. Is that how you dealt with your guilt? You never even mentioned me. Amira knows nothing about me because you never told her. You didn’t even bother to visit my empty grave. Truth is, you never liked me, did you? You never liked your own daughter. What kind of mother does what you did?’ She twists the tip of the knife into her palm, dripping blood. ‘The kind that deserves to die.’
‘Mona, listen to me,’ I try to wrench free. ‘You need help. Please let me help you. We can start over. It’s not too late. Fate has brought you back to me.’
‘Shut up,’ she says between gritted teeth. She quivers, nostrils flaring. ‘What do you really know about me? If anyone needs help, it’s you. Just look at yourself. Old and demented. Do you think searching for my story, for what happened to me in the newspapers, means anything? I know all about you, Afrah Bibi. This isn’t fate. I planned for this day, to confront you with your sin. I shadowed you and waited a year before facing you with the truth, and it feels good to be the one who’s in control over your life, just as you were of mine. I am now the one who gets to decide if you should live or if you should die. Just the way you did.’ She twists the knife again and I close my eyes.
‘Please, let me go.’ Her mind seems as if it’s elsewhere. She grabs me and yanks me up, my kameez in her fist stained with blood. I claw at her fingers, but she laughs and grabs me roughly by the arm and shoves me backwards.
‘You’re hurting me, stop it!’ I push her away, but she swoops down on me and drags me across the room and throws me onto the floor. Bile inches up my throat. I can’t get up, I shout for help.
‘Naima’s mum said you were a common girl. She used to laugh about you.’
I feel an ugly lump swell in my throat, expanding like a living creature inside of me. My own daughter wants to kill me. ‘Sultana never loved you. She used you to get back at me. Don’t you see? Why else would she —’
‘Be quiet. I don’t believe a word you say. You are a liar and a thief. You stole Naima’s mum’s bangles and never told me about it. You deserve to suffer for all that you’ve done. Do you hear me, Ami?’
‘Fine then kill me, kill your own mother. I deserve to die,’ I say. ‘I was a bad mother and I am sorry I failed you. I am sorry you felt neglected.’
There’s a glimpse in her eyes, a familiar look, and she turns around so I can’t see her face. Wind batters the windows. A storm is brewing outside and it has surrounding the house. There’s nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. I am captured in this forsaken house with my daughter who has returned from the dead.
‘I know you’re angry about what I did. You hold me responsible for the accident.’ I take a deep breath and throw her a soft gaze. ‘But you have to believe me, it wasn’t my fault what hap
pened. We can still move on together and be happy again if only you to forgive me.’ With ease, I put my hand on hers. My heart jumps to my throat. ‘Can you imagine the pain, the suffering I went through, for over thirty years because I believed you were dead? And now you stand in front of me, my own flesh and blood. Thirsty for revenge. We can learn to forgive each other.’
‘It doesn’t work like that, Ami.’ Her breath grows heavy. I look her straight in the eyes. She is playing a twisted game.
‘Don’t be afraid of death,’ she smirks. ‘I’ve seen it. I danced with the flames of fire you put out for me. And now you can be free, too. I’ll make your death beautiful and pain free. You won’t suffer. Not the way I have.’
‘What do you want me to do?’ My breath sits heavily in my chest.
‘I want you to crawl,’ she says. ‘Now!’
Instead, I push her with all my strength and run past her, start climbing down the stairs. Halfway, I nearly stumble, and grab the rail. She is getting to her feet, and stands at the top of the stairwell watching me.
‘Ami,’ she says taking slow steps towards me. ‘Where are you going? Are you going back to Amira?’ she pants loudly. ‘She doesn’t love you. She left you here to rot. In a care home. She hasn’t been to visit you. She doesn’t care if you live or if you die. You are a liability to her. She blames you for all her failures. Her education, her marriage. I know because she told me. You have no one, Ami. No one except for me.’
A sickening feeling envelops me. I stagger and hit my head against the floor. Mona comes down and wraps her arms around me, as if to embrace me. She strokes my hair. I try to get away, but she’s forceful and squeezes me tighter.
‘Please, let me go.’
‘All you had to do was to love me and none of this would have happened.’
Madness shines through her bloodshot eyes. My mind whirs. I don’t hesitate. I manage to forcefully slip out of her grip and crawl with my elbows towards the door. I keep going but my limbs freeze. The window is open, a wild wind sweeps in with snow. I don’t look back. I keep moving. I can’t see anything. The snow blows in hard, a veiled curtain spinning me away from the world. I bump my head against something sharp. I think I am losing consciousness. Everything falls silent. I wet my dry lips, licking away blood from the split wound. I lean back against the wall. I’m paralyzed and unable to move.
‘Pathetic, Ami.’ Mona yanks my arm, and drags me out and down the stairs. ‘You didn’t even try to fight, that’s how weak you are. But don’t worry, it’s not over yet.’
‘Stop it,’ I say. ‘Let me go.’ My pulse thuds through my veins.
‘You’re crazy if you believe I am going to let you get away with what you did.’ She lunges towards me and roars like a wild beast. The pain burns through me as I fall and hit my head against the chair. I crawl across the floor toward the stairs, but she grabs my ankle and slides me back.
My eyes squeeze shut and I slump between her hands. Just as I lie on the floor, I open my eyes, and shove her away hard. Her head bounces against the brick wall. Her breath is heavy, snarling like an animal. Hissing wildly. She strikes me hard then tightens her hands around my neck. The tears in my eyes build.
‘Help,’ I shout. ‘Somebody help me get out of here.’
My skin itches, and my throat is tight. When I look up again, I see that the curtains have caught fire from the candles, and everything is burning. The smoky air is trapped in my lungs. I crawl across the room, but Mona grabs my wrist and pushes me hard. I stumble back and come crashing down the stairs, the pain is shooting up in me.
Blinded and coughing from the thick smoke, I get up and open the door. I don’t see her anywhere. I leap forward, but she jumps in front of me out of nowhere.
‘Now, look what you’ve made me do.’
‘We need to go,’ I say. ‘Or we both die.’ I take her hand, and lead her through the black cloud smoke curling around us. I am back in our house on that fatal day when it all happened.
‘Help me, Ami, help. Please,’ I hear Amira cough.
‘Where are you?’ I wave my hands, but the fire is getting out of control. The heat seers into my skin.
‘Ami?’ Her hand is on my shoulder. But it’s not Mona. It’s Amira. She came for me. She is here. ‘Let’s go, now.’ She pulls me away. But I let go of her.
‘Amira stop, we can’t leave.’ She takes my hand and says we have to. ‘The whole house is about to burn down. If we stay, we will die.’
‘I can’t leave her. I can’t leave my daughter.’
A roar shoots through the smoke. I stagger towards Mona and see that fourteen-year-old girl again, crying for help. Amira takes my hand again, but I tell her to let go of me.
‘I can’t do this again. I can’t leave my daughter to die again.’
‘What do you mean?’ I let go of Amira’s hand and walk back. ‘Don’t Ami, please.’ On one side, I see Amira as she was when she was five years old, crying for me to rescue her. And on the other side, I see Mona, left in the flames to die. She wanted my help that fateful night of the fire. She may even have reached her hand out. But I didn’t take it. I took Amira and threw her out of the window. She was screaming. I lunged after her and left Mona to die.
With a grunt, Mona launches herself at me. Her body smashes into to mine. I fall back against the wall. I stretch my hands out to stop her. My breath heavy in my chest. I slump, spine curved. I am unable to hold myself upright. The air in my lungs falls short. The smoke from the fire is blinding me. Red and blue flames surround us. Sweat washes down my face. I hoist my body up, stumble into the white smoke and push open the window, exposing my skin to the winter breeze. Heavy snowflakes slap my cheeks, bite my skin. I turn around and see Mona standing in front of me.
‘Help me, Ami.’ She reaches her hand out for me. Before I can take hold of it, she staggers backwards and falls. Blazing timber panels from the ceiling crash down on her and she screams, and it echoes in my ears. I see her wide brown eyes look at me one last time before they shut.
‘No! Mona!’ The smoke curls around me and I trace dark flecks of blood from my head. I reach my hand out for her again, but it’s too late. Everything turns dark.
Chapter 44
AMIRA
One month later
Saturday, 25 January 2020
The snow falls like motes of dust from the grey sky, over the pedestrian outside. The house smells of fresh roses. I’ve brought home a beautiful red bunch and placed them in a vase by the window where Mum sits in her armchair reading a book.
‘Did you like the ceremony this morning?’ I ask.
‘Yes, it was beautiful,’ says Mum. ‘Was she a friend of yours?’
‘You could say that.’
I grab my crutches and look out of the window. The winter sun is out on this beautiful January afternoon. I ask Mum if she wants tea, and she says Kashmiri chai please, meri beti. I bring her a mug and she sips slowly while looking at me.
‘Who are you? And where is Zahra?’
‘You are home now,’ I say.
‘Oh,’ she peers out. ‘Look, it’s snowing. Isn’t it beautiful?’
Someone is calling me. It’s Haroon. I take the call in the kitchen.
‘Thanks for checking on us . . . We’re doing fine . . . Don’t need anything . . . Mum’s much better . . . Yes, I’ll take her for the check-up tomorrow . . . Thanks for making the arrangements with the specialist . . . No, Haroon, I don’t want to give any interviews, I told you already. The police have everything in my final statement. The case is closed as far as I am concerned . . . OK, give Shafi my love. Tell him I’ll pick him up tomorrow as planned. We’ll head out with Mum to the new facility next to the hospital.’ I hang up and scroll through the charity page we set up one week ago. Money keeps coming in and the donations are generous. One anonymous donor has given us £50,000. I wonder who it’s from. The transfer came from Glasgow.
‘Who are you talking to?’ Mum’s in the doorway. ‘Was it Zahra? Te
ll her to make korma for dinner. She makes it so well.’
‘Ami,’ I get close to her. ‘It was Zahra’s burial ceremony we went to this morning. Zahra was your daughter, Mona. Do you remember now?’
‘Oh, how is Mona?’ Mum looks confused. ‘If you speak with her, send her my regards. Tell her Afrah misses her company.’
There’s a knock on the door. Mrs Nesbit has come to visit with her son. She wears a beautiful black dress, tight around her frame, and a sparkling green broach above her right breast. He wears a black suit, white shirt and black tie. They’ve brought lilies, and give their condolences. I lead them into the living room and place the flowers in a pot.
‘Sorry I didn’t make it to the ceremony,’ she says.
‘That’s quite all right Mrs Nesbit. Thanks for coming and for bringing the flowers.’
‘I hope the burial gave Afrah the closure she needed.’
Mum comes in and asks who the woman is. I tell her it’s a friend. I excuse myself and lead Mum up to her bedroom. ‘It’s time for your nap.’
‘I don’t want to nap. I’m not tired.’
‘Then rest, Ami. OK? Just for a bit.’
She lays down and I put a blanket over her. Her eyes are wide open, staring at the picture on her nightstand. ‘Isn’t he handsome? Nadeem looks just like Daniel Day-Lewis.’
I shut the door and go down to offer Mrs Nesbit tea. She tells me she followed the story in the news. What a tragedy. I don’t say anything. If only I could wipe the past clean. If only I could borrow Mum’s memory for an instant. Mum may have gotten closure. But I never will. I will never know what she did. The secret died with Mona, and Mum’s memory is deteriorating day by day. But I am glad she is home. I feel privileged to care for her.
‘How are you holding up?’ asks Mrs Nesbit’s son. He carries a smell of coffee and cigarettes. ‘Still want to sell the house?’
