Payback

by Rosemary Hayes

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Mahmood

  I only found out by accident. I knew that Halima’s parents and brother had left for Pakistan, for the wedding, and I thought that Halima had gone with them. I kept imagining her with this guy. I was beating myself up for being so weak. Why hadn’t I stopped her going? Now she was probably already engaged to the man.

  I’d been to see Habib and Asma but they said nothing about Halima – they just said that the rest of the family had left for Pakistan.

  Then one evening I called in unexpectedly. Habib let me into the flat and I could hear Asma talking loudly on the phone in the other room.

  ‘What can I do, Ammi?’ she yelled. ‘She won’t speak to me.’ Then silence. ‘No. I told you! I have no idea where she is.’

  Habib steered me into the kitchen but I could still hear Asma, her voice raised in irritation.

  I looked at Habib. ‘What’s happened?’

  He was embarrassed and wouldn’t meet my eyes. ‘Nothing. Just some family trouble.’ He shrugged. ‘You know how it is.’

  Suddenly I realised why he was being so shifty. Family trouble. I took him by the shoulders and forced him to look at me. ‘Is it Halima? Has something happened to her?’

  ‘No, no. Nothing like that…’

  ‘Don’t lie to me, Habib!’ I was angry now and sure I was right. ‘That’s who Asma’s talking about, isn’t it?’

  Habib didn’t answer.

  ‘What’s happened to her? Is she in trouble?’

  Habib gestured towards the closed door. ‘Shhh,’ he said. ‘You’ll upset Asma.’

  But at that moment Asma came out. She was flushed and obviously upset. When she saw me, she started.

  ‘Mahmood! I didn’t know you were here.’

  I dispensed with the niceties. ‘Asma, what’s happened?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Habib moved towards her and put his arm round her shoulders. ‘It’s OK, Mahmood, it’s nothing.’

  They were presenting me with a wall of silence, but I wouldn’t leave it alone. I brushed aside his remark. ‘It’s Halima, isn’t it? Something’s happened to her?’

  Asma frowned. ‘She decided not to go to Pakistan,’ she said. ‘That’s all. She needed to study.’

  ‘What a load of bullshit!’ I yelled. ‘She’s run away, hasn’t she?’

  Asma looked up at me then, and her eyes were full of tears.

  ‘She has, hasn’t she?’

  Asma nodded miserably.

  ‘You’re not to tell anyone, Mahmood,’ said Habib. ‘You understand?’

  ‘Oh yes, I understand,’ I said bitterly. ‘I understand all right.’

  ‘She’ll come back. I’m sure she’ll come back,’ said Asma. ‘She doesn’t want to leave her family.’

  ‘And what about the guy in Pakistan?’

  Habib frowned. ‘She’s promised to him. You know that. I told you, Mahmood.’

  I lost my temper then. ‘This is barbaric, Habib. For God’s sake, you’ve lived here long enough. No girl should be forced to marry someone against her will.’

  Asma interrupted. ‘She never said she wouldn’t marry him, Mahmood.’

  ‘No, of course she didn’t. Think of the trouble! Think what your father would do! Instead, she’s run away because she can’t stand the thought of being with some man she’s never met, doesn’t respect and who thinks she’s owed to him.’

  In the silence that followed, the baby started crying and Asma fled out of the room. Habib scowled at me.

  When Asma came back, she was cradling the baby in her arms and tears were running down her cheeks.

  ‘Have you spoken to her?’ I asked gently.

  Asma shook her head. ‘She won’t answer her phone. But she sends me texts. She says she’s safe.’

  I cursed myself, then, for not getting Halima’s phone number from her. But she probably wouldn’t have given it to me.

  ‘If you give me her number, ‘ I began. ‘Perhaps…’

  ‘No!’ said Asma sharply. ‘This is our business, Mahmood. Our family’s business. If you interfere, you will only make things worse for her.’

  Shortly after that, I left and went to the park. I paced round and round, trying to think of how I could contact her.

  I wanted her to know I cared for her. I wanted her to know I admired her and what she’d done. But Asma might be right. I could make things a lot worse for her.

  Where was Halima now? What was she doing? How would she manage on her own?

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Halima

  The days dragged by. I had never felt so lonely in my life. The college had conferences during the vacation and business people came and went, held meetings, ate meals, but they were bound up in their own concerns and no one noticed me.

  There was a small café on the campus and I bought food there and ate it alone in my room, staring at the four walls. I tried to study but every so often my mind would freeze up and my thoughts would go back, again and again, to what I had done. How would Ammi be taking it? I knew she’d be worried about me and I hated making her unhappy. And Baba? He’d just be furious that I had messed up his wonderful plan for me.

  Most days I walked in the grounds speaking to nobody, watching people come and go. It got so that I became scared of leaving the safety of the campus, but one day I told myself that I must stop this. I must get out. I needed money. I needed work. My savings wouldn’t last much longer.

  Eventually I screwed up my courage and went to look around the nearest town, taking the bus which stopped outside the college. No one was talking when I got on the bus and I felt that everyone was staring at me. But, being English, they soon looked away. I really stood out here. How different from Walthamstow, where every other person in our street was Pakistani. I decided then that I must make myself less conspicuous. I would leave off my hijab in future and buy some jeans and tops at a charity shop. I must try and blend in. I mustn’t be so easy to spot.

  As the bus lumbered towards the town, I looked around me. The countryside was in full bloom, the leaves still that wonderful acid green of early summer before the heat makes them tired, and the wheat in the fields still unripened. It was a glorious day and I felt my spirits lift. When we reached the middle of the town, I got out, together with most of the other passengers.

  I walked slowly down the high street, peering into the shop windows. Everything was different. The clothes, the food, the pace of life. It was a small town with a wide main street and old buildings, some of them uneven and some timbered. It felt timeless and gentle and very English.

  I found a charity shop and bought a couple of pairs of jeans and some tops for practically nothing. I emerged from the shop with my hair swinging free and my usual clothes bundled into a plastic bag. I smiled. Ammi would have been horrified.

  Then I went into a café and sat there drinking a coffee and wondering whether I had the courage to walk into a shop and ask if they had a part-time job.

  I made my coffee last as long as I could – until it was cold in the cup. The waitress came over and asked if I wanted another. My thoughts were so far away that I jumped. I’d almost forgotten how to chat, how to exchange normal everyday pleasantries.

  I blushed. ‘No. No, thank you.’ She started to walk away. I summoned up my courage. ‘Excuse me.’

  She turned back. ‘Yes?’

  ‘I’m… er… I want to do some work here over the summer. Do you now where I can look for a job?’

  She frowned. ‘What sort of work?’

  ‘I’ve worked in a dress shop,’ I said. ‘But anything really. I don’t mind what I do.’

  She smiled at me then. ‘If you go into the supermarket,’ she said, ‘they have a noticeboard there. There are cards advertising jobs.’

  I got up. ‘Thanks a lot. I’ll go and look now.’

  She started to wipe the table. ‘You could be lucky. Schools haven’t broken up yet, so there might be something – before the school le
avers snap them up.’

  I thanked her again. She smiled. ‘No problem. Let me know if you have any luck.’

  ‘Yes. I will.’

  A friendly face, a smile. Suddenly I felt more welcome in this place, less of a stranger.

  I walked slowly down the road. I had plenty of time. The bus didn’t go back past the college for another hour. I walked through the automatic doors of the supermarket and immediately saw the noticeboard at the front of the shop near the kiosk selling cigarettes and lottery tickets. I read the cards pinned up there.

  Bar work. I smiled to myself. However desperate I was, I certainly wouldn’t work where alcohol was served. I really would be an outcast if I did!

  Sales assistant in newsagent. Possible, I suppose.

  Sales assistant in clothing store. Definitely possible.

  Babysitting. Not sure about that. I’d rather not get involved with a family. They’d ask too many questions.

  I scribbled down the phone numbers of the two possibles and then went out into the street again. In a quiet doorway I phoned the clothing store.

  I was terrified the shop would want a reference from where I’d worked in Walthamstow. They’d certainly give me one, but the people who ran the place knew my family and they’d be sure to let on where I was. But the woman who interviewed me seemed satisfied when I told her I was a student at the local college, and half an hour later, I had a job! Only two afternoons a week, but that was all I needed. And I could keep it up when term started. I was sure I could juggle it somehow.

  Before I went back, I popped in to see the waitress in the café. She was serving but she spotted me at the door. ‘Any luck?’ she mouthed. I nodded and grinned. She gave me a thumbs-up sign.

  The driver smiled at me as I boarded the bus. I’m sure he didn’t recognise me as the girl in the hijab who had got on earlier. The bus was full and I squeezed in next to a large lady with a shopping bag on her lap. She smiled at me, too.

  It was with a lighter heart that I walked up the long drive to college. I had a job. It wasn’t much, but it meant I could afford to eat – and I’d be seeing people and talking to them.

  Slowly, day by day, my mind began to unfreeze. I liked the people who came into the shop. Mothers with children, businesswomen, grannies. Sometimes they talked to me and asked me what I was doing. My answer was always the same. I was at the college and I was staying during the summer to study, while my family was in Pakistan.

  But I longed for the company of people my own age. There was a long time to go before term started.

  I often thought of Imran and one day, while I was alone in my room at college, I rang him.

  ‘Hey, little sister. What’s up? Where are you? I heard all about it. Are you OK?’

  It was the first time I’d heard the voice of any member of my family for ages and I felt a great surge of longing.

  ‘It’s so good to hear you!’ I said. ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘Yeah. I’m OK. But tell me where you are, Halima. Let’s meet up, eh?’

  I paused. Could I trust him with my secret? Better not.

  ‘Imran, I’m a long way from Walthamstow, but I’m safe and I’m studying.’

  ‘Studying? How come? Where?’

  ‘I’ve transferred. But… but I can’t tell you where I am.’

  There was a pause, then, ‘Yeah. I understand. Though I’d never tell them, Halima. I’d never let on.’

  I thought back to the arrogant Imran I’d known, to the cocksure young man, certain of his male superiority. He sounded gentler now. He had changed.

  He was speaking again. ‘You know, there’ve been rumours, Halima.’

  ‘Rumours? About me?’

  ‘Sort of.’

  I felt a tiny prick of fear. ‘What, Imran? What are they saying?’

  ‘Well, you know Baba told everyone in Pakistan that you’d stayed in England to study?’

  ‘Yes, Asma sent me a text.’

  He paused again. ‘Well, it seems that this guy you’re supposed to be marrying didn’t believe it. And he insisted on speaking to you himself.’

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘Yes – awkward for Baba, as you can imagine, seeing as he knew you wouldn’t answer your mobile and you weren’t living at home. He had to admit that you’d run away.’

  ‘Where did you hear this, Imran?’

  ‘From Habib.’

  I frowned at the mobile in my hand. ‘But you’ve never met Habib, Imran. You weren’t living at home when he came on the scene.’

  Imran chuckled. ‘I have met him. I know him through friends and we speak quite often, though Asma doesn’t know. She wouldn’t want him getting too friendly with her no-good brother.’

  I sighed. How long would it be before Asma froze me out of her life, too?

  Imran went on. ‘But that’s not all, little sister.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘The guy’s father is really angry. I mean, really angry.’

  My heart started beating a little faster and I gripped my phone hard.

  Imran went on. ‘He’s furious, Halima and… and they think he might come looking for you.’

  ‘What!’

  ‘Listen, it’s only a rumour and they may be saying that to frighten you into coming home.’

  ‘Who? Who’s saying that?’

  ‘The family.’

  ‘You mean Baba?’

  ‘Yes. He’s pretty angry, too.’

  I swallowed. ‘Imran,’ I said quietly. ‘I’m not coming home. I’m happy here. I’m going to study and get my degree. And then I’m going to get a good job.’

  ‘I admire you, little sister, believe me. But you’ll be doing it on your own. And you’ll have to make very sure no one can find you.’

  ‘I know,’ I said.

  We chatted on for a while and he seemed pleased to talk to me – really talk, in the way we never used to when we were at home together. We spoke about Baba and Ammi and how we were moving away from their way of thinking. Imran couldn’t understand why Baba was giving me a good education and then forcing me into a marriage I didn’t want. Surely, he said, Baba must realise that I had a mind of my own.

  ‘He’s got no choice, Imran. At least, that’s how he sees it. He promised, so he must deliver.’

  ‘He should never have put you in this position.’

  ‘Well, I suppose, when he made the promise, things were different.’

  ‘Don’t tell me you’re feeling sorry for him!’

  I laughed. ‘No! Well, not really. But I can see how difficult it is for him.’

  It was such a relief to speak to a member of my family who didn’t try to make me change my mind. I could relax with Imran, and he made me feel better about what I had done.

  ‘Imran,’ I said. ‘You know I’d really really like to see you, but just now…’

  ‘No, I understand. Better not let anyone know where you are.’

  ‘You will speak to me again?’

  ‘I’ll speak to you any time. You know that.’

  ‘I’ll phone you again soon, then,’ I said. ‘And Imran…’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘For warning me.’

  ‘That’s OK. But you be careful, Halima. Look after yourself, little sister.’

  I switched off my mobile and sat on the edge of my bed. Why hadn’t Asma told me any of this? Although I’d not spoken to her, we’d sent each other texts regularly. In every one of them, she’d begged me to come home, told me I was making trouble for the family, but she’d never said anything about someone coming after me. Maybe she didn’t want to frighten me. Maybe she didn’t know. But if Habib knew, then surely…

  Or maybe she wanted me to be caught. Was that it? Did she want me to cave in and do what Baba wanted so that the family honour would stay intact?

  Did she want me found at any price?

  I couldn’t believe that my lovely sister Asma would wish any harm to come
to me but then, more than anything, she wanted harmony in the family. Imran had gone, but Khalil had bent to Baba’s will. Asma wanted me to do the same.

  I felt really depressed after talking to Imran and I almost wavered, almost wondered whether I had done the right thing. Here I was, without friends of my own age, lonely, estranged from the family. Was it really all worth it?

  But then I heard those words again.

  You are owed me.

  And the moment I thought what my life might be like with the guy from Saudi, I knew I was right, I couldn’t do it. But the news from Imran was chilling. Surely no one could track me down here, could they? And if they wanted to bundle me out of the country, force me to go to Saudi and marry the guy, they’d have to have my passport, wouldn’t they? And Baba had my passport.

  Thoughts kept whirling round my brain. Perhaps they knew people who could supply a false passport. Perhaps they’d employ someone to track me down – like a private detective.

  Oh, stop it, I told myself. Stop being so hysterical. You are safe. You are being extremely careful. No one except Kate and Miss Brunner knows where you are. The guy in Saudi will soon forget you. Why would he want you now, anyway? You’re not exactly ideal wife material.

  I longed to see Kate again and tell her everything. I’d sent her a few texts but phoning mobile-to-mobile was expensive to America and I knew she was having a great time. I didn’t want to ruin her holiday by worrying her.

  For a few days after speaking to Imran, every man I saw looked suspicious. Was that man walking behind me in town a private dectective? And what about the fellow at the back of the bus? And who was the man pacing round the college campus with his hands behind his back?

  I told Imran of my fears the next time I phoned him. ‘That’s good, little sister. Go on being suspicious. Don’t drop your guard.’

  And then he said something that made me forget everything about being followed.

  ‘I met a friend of yours the other day.’

  ‘Oh yeah. Who?’

  ‘A guy called Mahmood.’

  I tried to sound cool, but my heart started beating so fast that it banged against my ribs. ‘Oh… him. Yes, he’s a cousin of Habib’s. Where did you meet him?’