Payback

by Rosemary Hayes

  ‘Hush, Kate,’ said Miss Brunner. ‘You’re not helping.’

  ‘Sorry, Miss.’

  I went on with my story, I held nothing back. I told her about Imran and I even told her about Mahmood – and I told her how I couldn’t report my father because of what it would do to the family. When I’d finished, there was a long silence. The only noises were our collective breathing and Miss Brunner’s fingers drumming on the table-top.

  Kate couldn’t bear the suspense. ‘Well, can you help her, Miss?’ she blurted out.

  Miss Brunner raised her head. ‘I want to help you, Halima – I’m just trying to think how.’

  I nodded. ‘I don’t want to put any pressure on you, Miss,’ I said. ‘It could be dangerous.’

  Miss Brunner was no fool. She knew I wasn’t being over-dramatic. She’d been teaching Pakistani girls long enough to know that there could be a price to pay for interfering in family matters.

  ‘I know,’ she said quietly. ‘That’s why I have to think about it very carefully.’

  Another silence, then she stood up and started walking up and down. She stopped, and turned to me. ‘What is it you want to do, Halima? Ideally?’

  I cleared my throat. ‘I want to finish college and get a good job.’

  ‘And you say that if you refuse to marry this man, your family won’t pay your college fees?’

  ‘Not only that. They’ll have nothing more to do with me.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  I thought of Imran. ‘Quite sure,’ I said.

  ‘And you say that if you go to Pakistan for your brother’s wedding, you’ll not be allowed to return unless you agree to marry this man. Has your father actually said that?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘Not in so many words, no. But I know him. And it’s about family honour, Miss. If I go, he’ll make me marry the man.’

  She took a deep breath. ‘Then you must not go.’

  ‘But how can I…?’

  ‘I think you have to be very brave, Halima. If you really don’t want this marriage, then you must leave home.’

  I felt numb.

  ‘You are quite sure you don’t want the marriage?’

  I licked my dry lips. ‘This man thinks of me as some sort of asset. A trophy, like his car or his apartment in Riyadh. I’ve spoken to him several times on the phone. He told me I was owed to him. After all you’ve taught me, after all I’ve learnt here, I can’t live with a man who thinks like that.’ I paused. ‘And my life in Saudi would be really restricted. I’d not be allowed out on my own. I’d have no freedom. And, whatever my father says, the guy is just a migrant worker. He may be earning good money, but I would have no status as his wife.’

  ‘Right. As long as you are absolutely sure.’

  I nodded.

  ‘Then you have to leave here.’

  ‘What – leave Walthamstow?’

  She came over to me then, and cupped my chin in her hand. ‘I don’t think you have a choice, Halima. From what you’ve told me, there is no alternative. You’ll have to get right away from here, from your family, from your friends.’

  ‘But where can I go?’ I could feel tears coming.

  Kate stretched over and squeezed my hand.

  Miss Brunner frowned. ‘If you leave it with me, I can probably help you to get into another college where they do much the same course as you’re doing now.’

  ‘But how would I pay the fees?’

  Miss Brunner started to pace up and down again. ‘In cases like yours – exceptional cases – the local authority might agree to pay for you. I’ll see what I can do.’

  ‘But where is the college?’

  ‘The one I have in mind isn’t that far away, but it’s outside London.’

  ‘And how would I live?’

  Kate interrupted. ‘Give her a chance, Halima! She can’t think of everything at once!’

  ‘Sorry. I’m so sorry, Miss.’ I was crying now.

  Miss Brunner smiled. ‘Look, I’ll see what I can arrange and I’ll get back to you. Meanwhile, just act as if you are happy to go off to Pakistan for the wedding, and wait until I contact you.’

  ‘But we leave quite soon. The baby’s due any moment, and we’ll go as soon as term’s finished.’

  ‘I’ll start making enquiries right away. Trust me, Halima.’

  ‘Thanks so much,’ said Kate. ‘You don’t know how much it means to her.’

  ‘Oh yes, I think I do,’ Miss Brunner said quietly, ‘otherwise I wouldn’t get involved.’ Then she looked at her watch. ‘Now I must go to this meeting. I’m already late.’

  She picked up her bag. ‘Come on. I’ll see you out.’

  We said goodbye and she walked away, but suddenly she stopped and came running back. ‘Halima,’ she said. ‘You will make sure you delete any calls you receive from me, won’t you?’

  And it was then that the enormity of what I was doing, of what I was asking her to do, hit home. My stomach clenched tight. This wasn’t just dangerous for me, it was dangerous for her, too.

  I nodded. ‘Of course. I’ll be really careful.’

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  It was such a strain trying to act normally. Ammi started worrying about me.

  ‘You look so pale, Halima, and you’re not eating properly. What’s the matter with you?’

  How I longed to tell her. My poor Ammi! I was going to break her heart.

  ‘I’m nervous,’ I said. This was absolutely true. I was desperately nervous about what I had started. But there was no going back.

  ‘Why? About meeting your new husband?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Ammi hugged me. ‘Oh, he’s so right for you, Halima. Good family, good job. He will make you very happy. For sure, he will make you very happy. You are a lucky girl.’

  I kept to my room when I was at home, saying I had to study, but most of the time I lay on my bed staring at the ceiling, waiting for Miss Brunner to phone. The rest of the time I sorted out the things I needed to take with me. A few clothes, books, important papers – and my embroidery silks and needles. I would have to live without my passport. Baba had that, and it was locked away in a drawer in their bedroom. And I’d take a photo of Asma and Habib’s wedding. It had all my family in it – all except Imran, of course – and in the background there was another face: Mahmood’s. Whenever my resolve weakened, I would pick up the photo and stare into his laughing eyes to give myself the strength not to cave in. I’d probably never see him again, but at least he’d shown me that there were Muslim men like him in the world, men who would treat me as an equal. Men who would not say such things as, ‘You are owed me’.

  Asma was overdue now. She asked me over to keep her company and we went for a walk in the local park.

  ‘So, you’ve agreed to marry the boy from Saudi?’ she said.

  Her remark caught me unawares. ‘I don’t know,’ I stuttered. ‘I want to meet him first.’

  She took my arm. ‘I’m so glad you’re not making a big fuss about it,’ she said.

  I shrugged. ‘What else can I do?’

  She nodded. ‘I know, it’s difficult for you. It’s a pity Baba made that promise, but he’ll never go back on his word. And the guy does sound a good match for you.’

  We had come to a bench and she sank down on it, breathless and heavy. She turned to me and took my hands in hers. ‘You will agree to marry him, won’t you. You won’t make trouble for the family?’

  Trouble for the family. Always the family. What about me – what about my feelings?

  I bit back my response, and shrugged. ‘I want to meet him first,’ I said firmly.

  She knew only too well what would happen if I refused him and, in her own way, she was trying to warn me, tell me that refusing would do no good. It would only make it worse for me.

  I hated deceiving her, but I knew she’d never keep my secret.

  Luckily for me, the baby came the very next day so all the family’s attention was focused
on that. A beautiful baby boy.

  Ammi was on the phone all the time chatting to the aunties and recounting every detail of Asma’s labour.

  I didn’t go to see the baby in hospital but Ammi and Baba did, and when they came back they were over the moon with excitement.

  ‘Oh, such a perfect baby. Such a strong little boy. He looks just like Habib!’

  I waited until Asma was back home before I went to see them. Luckily, there were no other relations around when I went, so I was able to have some time alone with Asma and Habib and the baby.

  Asma handed him to me. I took him and smiled into his crinkled face. I put my finger into his little fist and he hung on to it.

  ‘He’s lovely,’ I said. And I really meant it. But he didn’t look like Habib. I thought he looked much more like Imran.

  Then I started to cry. I was crying a lot at the moment. Anything would start me off.

  ‘Don’t cry, Halima,’ said Asma. ‘Just think. You’ll have babies soon, once you’re married.’

  But I wasn’t crying for the children I didn’t have. I was crying because I knew that I might never get to know this little boy, my own nephew. Would Asma and Habib have anything to do with me after I’d left Walthamstow?

  I wanted so much to talk to them about my plans, to make them understand.

  A few days later, Miss Brunner rang.

  ‘Can you talk?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I’m on the bus. No problem.’

  ‘OK. Listen carefully, Halima. Good news! I’ve got you a place at the college I told you about and I’ve been in touch with the local authorities. There are lots of papers to complete, but basically, they know your situation and they’ll cover your fees.’

  ‘Thank you. Thank you so much.’ I suppose it was what I wanted but I could feel no enthusiasm, just an aching loneliness.

  She sounded worried. ‘Are you quite sure you want to do this, Halima?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, trying to sound more positive. ‘Yes, I’m quite sure. I have no choice.’

  ‘Right. Well, the people at the college say you can go right away and live there during the vacation. There won’t be any students about, of course, but there’ll be people coming and going, and you’ll be safe and have somewhere to stay.’

  ‘So I can go there as soon as term ends here?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Is that OK?’

  ‘That’s such a relief, Miss. I’m really grateful.’ Then reality kicked in. ‘But I don’t know how to get there. And there’s all my things…’

  ‘Don’t worry, Halima, I’ve thought of that. If you can bring most of what you need to college, I’ll collect you on the last day of term and drive you there.’

  ‘But you’re taking a big risk, Miss. What if someone sees you with me? Someone might tell my parents and my father would be so angry…’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I’ve thought of that too.’

  She had it all worked out and, in any other circumstances, the cloak and dagger stuff would have been quite funny. I was to get a cab from college to a road not far from her house. She’d be watching out for me and as soon as the cab had gone, she’d come and pick me up with all my belongings. Since she lived in an area where there were hardly any Pakistanis, it would be unlikely that any of my relations would see me.

  The days dragged by. It was good that the rest of the family were so tied up with preparing for the trip to Pakistan, for Khalil’s big wedding there and, of course, with the new baby. Ammi’s feet hardly touched the ground. She was either on the phone chatting to the aunties, or rushing over to Asma’s to check on the baby, or buying clothes and presents to take to Pakistan.

  I was fitted for new clothes, too, clothes I knew I would never wear. I felt guilty that Baba was spending all this money on me – but what could I do?

  ‘Turn round, Halima,’ said Ammi, as I paraded in my new silks. She clapped her hands together. ‘You look so pretty, darling, so slim now. Your new husband will be very pleased with you.’

  I knew I had lost weight. The kilos had been dropping off. I couldn’t face eating much because I was so worried.

  ‘Look. Look in the mirror,’ said Ammi.

  I turned to the full-length mirror in the bedroom and looked at myself critically. How ironic that I was looking better, now, than I had ever looked. I tried to be enthusiastic.

  ‘It’s lovely, Ammi,’ I said, and I gave her a tearful hug.

  ‘Hey, don’t cry, darling. You are going to be married.’

  ‘Not just yet, Ammi,’ I said. ‘Baba said I could finish my studies before I get married.’

  She shrugged. ‘Of course, darling. Of course he did.‘

  She looked away from me and busied herself with the material of my outfit. I stared down at her. She was no good at keeping secrets. Was this guy from Saudi pressing for an early marriage? Surely he’d be satisfied with a magni. No honourable family would go back on a magni.

  I started shaking. How much influence did the guy’s family have over Baba? When he discovered I hadn’t gone to Pakistan with my family, what would happen then? What excuses would Baba make?

  ‘You’re trembling, Halima. Whatever’s the matter?’

  ‘Nothing, Ammi, nothing. I’m just tired.’

  ‘Too much studying,’ said Ammi. ‘It’s not good for you. Still, you’ll soon be on holiday and in the sun again. Are you excited about going back home?’

  Back home. Our village in Pakistan would always be home to her. I thought of it then with an acute longing – a longing which would never again be satisfied. Once I ran away, I’d never be able to go back there.

  ‘Of course I’m excited,’ I replied automatically. ‘I can’t wait to be there again.’

  On the doormat, the next morning, I saw a letter from Saudi Arabia addressed to Baba. I skirted round it as I made my way out of the front door, as if, by touching it, I could become contaminated.

  That evening, Baba waved the opened letter at me. ‘A nice letter from the boy in Saudi, Halima – and look, he has sent a photo, too.’

  Ammi came into the lounge, wiping her hands on a towel. ‘He’s a handsome fellow, isn’t he, Halima? What a lucky girl you are.’

  I took the photo from Baba and studied it closely. The guy wasn’t bad-looking, but there was an arrogance about him which came through in the self-satisfied smirk and the cold eyes.

  You are owed me. I could easily imagine him saying that. I handed the photo back.

  ‘Yes, he’s not bad-looking,’ I said.

  Every day I loaded up my backpack with more stuff and took it to college. I had to be careful, so I was only taking absolute essentials. No one noticed. They were too busy with other things.

  My safety valve was my phone. I only phoned Kate or Miss Brunner when I was out of the house, away from flapping ears.

  I only spoke to Miss Brunner occasionally – just to reassure her that I was going ahead with my plans. And I met her once. She had come on a visit to my college with some of her students and, while they were being shown round, she met me in the canteen. Although it was quite natural that she should meet up with an old student, I felt very uneasy all the time we were together, but she had papers for me to sign and she had to go through them with me. I was even more nervous when one of the college tutors greeted her.

  ‘Checking up on your old students?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, smiling rather stiffly. ‘I bumped into Halima in the corridor.’

  When he walked away, she said, ‘Once you’ve left here, you will write and tell the college what’s going on, won’t you?’

  I looked shocked. ‘I can’t tell them where I am. My parents will be sure to contact them.’

  ‘No. No need to tell them where you are. Just explain that you’ve transferred, explain your situation.’

  How would I do that, I wondered, without giving it all away, without telling them where I’d gone, without mentioning Miss Brunner’s involvement?

  CHAPTER SEV
ENTEEN

  It was the last day of term. The day I’d been dreading. I’d not slept at all, and I knew I looked pale and tired.

  I woke early and went through my morning routine like a zombie. When I was ready to go down to breakfast, I stood at the door of my room looking in. Would I ever see it again? I tried to memorise everything: the bed, the cupboard, the faded carpet, the curtains at the windows. And in a corner of my bedroom, draped over a chair, my unfinished wedding dupatta with the boxes of threads and sequins and beads stacked on the seat of the chair. At the last moment, I stuffed the whole lot into my backpack, then I turned and closed the door softly behind me before heading downstairs.

  I tried to spin out my breakfast, chewing everything several times, making my tea last longer than usual. And all the time I watched Ammi busying herself in the kitchen, her familiar figure scuttling hither and thither.

  Stop! I wanted to shout. Stay still! Let me look at you! But when she did stop and speak to me, it was only to tell me to hurry up.

  ‘No need to dawdle just because it’s the last day of term,’ she said. But she smiled at me as she spoke.

  I held the smile in my memory. My darling Ammi. So proud of her student daughter and so concerned that I might be late on the last day of term. Poor Ammi. She would never feel proud of me again.

  My heart ached fit to burst. I longed more than anything to put my arms round her and tell her that I loved her. That I didn’t want to leave her. That none of this was her fault and that I understood why she had to support Baba.

  But there was no way.

  At last I could put it off my longer. I stood up and shrugged my backpack on.

  ‘Bye, Ammi,’ I said, trying to sound as natural as possible.

  ‘Bye, darling.’ She didn’t even turn her head. ‘See you later.’

  See you later. But you won’t, Ammi.

  I hesitated at the door, and briefly she looked in my direction.

  ‘Go on, Halima. Shoo! Whatever’s the matter with you. Hurry up!’

  Then she turned and walked towards the stairs.