Payback

by Rosemary Hayes

  ‘At my friend’s house.’

  ‘Is he… did he ask after me?’ I tried not to sound too eager.

  Imran laughed. ‘Once he found out I was your brother, he never stopped asking after you! You’ve certainly made a conquest there, Halima!’

  I couldn’t pretend any more. ‘Oh Imran, what shall I do?’

  ‘Do you like him?’

  I sighed. ‘I’ve only met him twice but yes, I really like him. He made me realise that there are Pakistani men out there who don’t think like Baba.’

  ‘Yeah, he’s a good bloke.’ He hesitated. ‘He wanted your phone number.’

  ‘Did you give it to him?’

  ‘No, of course not. I wouldn’t do that!’

  I felt the tears coming. ‘Oh Imran. I wish you had. It would be so good to talk to him again. And what harm could it do now? I’ve already broken away from the family, so I’m hardly being conventional – and I need all the friends I can get.’

  Imran didn’t say anything for a moment, then he went on. ‘It probably wouldn’t do him much good to contact you, Halima. Just think about it from his point of view. He’d be talking to someone who has disgraced her family. How do you think his family would react?’

  ‘I don’t know. I have thought about it and that’s why I’ve tried to put him out of my mind. I don’t want to make trouble for him. But… well his family’s been here for two generations. I think they might understand. And if it hadn’t been for this stupid debt of honour, Baba would think him really suitable for me. After all, he’s had a good education, comes from a good family, ticks all the boxes.’

  ‘I feel really sorry for you, little sister. I got out because I couldn’t stand the pressure from Baba. I’ve only got myself to blame. But you, you’re different.’

  ‘We’re in the same situation, though.’

  ‘I know. So, just in case you wanted it, guess what I’ve got?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘His number.’

  I laughed, my spirits soaring. ‘You’re a star!’

  ‘At least that gives you the option. If you want to contact him, you can. But don’t do anything without thinking it through.’

  As soon as I put the phone down, I entered Mahmood’s number in my mobile. I looked at it. I wouldn’t phone him yet. Imran was right. I needed to think carefully about it. I’d feel awkward making the running, but it was wonderful to have the number there, to know that I could hear his voice again.

  I continued to keep a lookout for stalkers but then, as each day followed the next and nothing happened, I started to feel more relaxed. I enjoyed my two afternoons at the dress shop. The manager was pleased with me and started to give me more responsibility.

  And it wasn’t too long, now, before the beginning of term. When term began again, I would blend into the crowd – I would be just another student, a pile of books under my arm, attending lectures, chatting to friends or glued to my mobile.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  I watched from my window as the students started to return to college. I was jealous of those being dropped off by their families, greeting their friends with loud shrieks, thundering up the stairs, slamming doors, playing music.

  Suddenly the whole place came alive. I was so used to the solitude that I found it unnerving at first, and I was very shy. Everyone seemed to know each other and I thought I wouldn’t fit in.

  But I was wrong. Right from the first day they were friendly – and particularly the two Muslim students doing the same course as me. I’d been scared that the work would be different – harder, unfamiliar – but because I’d had so much time to study during the holiday, I was well ahead. I began to relax and feel part of it all again. My lonely days were behind me – at least for now.

  Kate phoned me as soon as she was back from America and we arranged to meet up.

  ‘I’m really broke, Kate. I’m not sure that I can afford the fare to Oxford.’

  ‘Don’t worry. I’m coming to see you!’

  ‘Hey, that’s great. When?’

  ‘Is next Saturday afternoon OK with you?’

  I hesitated. ‘I’m working in the afternoon, at the dress shop. Could you come in the morning?’

  ‘Mmm. Morning’s no good – I’m doing something then, but I could meet you when you’ve finished work.’

  We arranged to meet in the café in the early evening. For the first time, I was really anxious for my shift at the shop to end and then, of course, a customer came in just before closing time. She was really slow, taking ages trying on one outfit after another. I tried to be patient, but I was watching the clock as I waited for her to decide, and then I wrapped up her purchase with fumbling fingers. But at last I was free to go and I raced down the high street and into the café.

  And there she was, the same as ever. Bright eyes, wild hair, crazy clothes and a huge grin. As soon as I walked in, she rushed over to me and gave me a hug. Then she held me away from her.

  ‘Hey, who’s this Western girl? Where’s the scarf? And what’s with the jeans? You look almost normal!’ She fished out a digital camera from her bag and took a photo. ‘This I have to have on record!’

  I laughed, and introduced her to my friend in the café.

  ‘She’s the lady who got me the job,’ I said.

  Kate smiled at her. ‘A friend in need, eh?’

  We ordered our drinks and talked and talked. I heard all about Kate’s trip to the States, about her friends at Oxford, her boyfriend, her course, the funny traditions they have there. She made it all sound great.

  ‘Thanks for trekking over here, Kate. Next time, I’ll try and make it to Oxford. I really want to see it – and I want to go to the mosque there, too. It’s ages since I’ve been.’

  ‘You’d love Oxford,’ she said. ‘But hey, it’ll keep. Now, tell me about you. What’s happening with the runaway daughter?’

  ‘Not bad. I’m doing OK with the work and I like it here.’

  ‘What about your family?’

  I made a face. ‘I talk to Imran.’

  Then I told her what Imran had said about the Saudi guy’s father being so angry and perhaps coming to find me.

  Kate looked serious. ‘That’s a bit sinister, isn’t it? But Halima, there are laws about that sort of thing in this country. This is England. No one can kidnap you.’

  I shrugged. ‘Don’t be too sure. I’ve dishonoured his family. But I’m hoping he won’t want me for his son now. I’m hoping he’ll think I’m too much trouble.’

  ‘What does Asma think about it?’

  ‘I don’t speak to Asma. I text her, but she wants me to come home and marry the guy. I can’t talk to her. She’ll put pressure on me to tell her where I am. Then, when I refuse, she’ll get upset and so will I.’

  Kate took a long drink of her coffee. Suddenly she grinned. ‘And what about the boyfriend – Mahmood, was it?’

  ‘Kate, he’s not a boyfriend. Well, not in the way you mean.’

  And then I told her that Imran had met him and that I was screwing up my courage to phone him.

  ‘What’s stopping you?’

  I rolled my eyes. ‘You know what’s stopping me!’

  She laughed. ‘Your upbringing, that’s all! You should contact him, Halima. He obviously cares about you.’

  ‘Maybe. I don’t know. It’s complicated.’ I changed the subject. ‘We’ll have to go soon, Kate. They’re closing up.’

  ‘But there’s so much I want to tell you. Why don’t I come back to college with you and stay the night in your room? That would be OK, wouldn’t it? I can get the bus back to Oxford in the morning.’

  ‘Yeah… I guess so. But there’s only one bed.’

  ‘Oh don’t worry about me. I’m happy on the floor.’

  ‘Well…’

  ‘Come on, Halima. It’s Saturday night, for goodness sake. You’re a free agent now. You can do what you want.’

  ‘I suppose so,’ I said doubtfully. There was no stopping her. She’d
made up her mind and I trailed along in her wake.

  ‘I saw a supermarket down the road,’ she said, standing up and pulling me to my feet. ‘We can get something to eat there and take it back to your room. I’ll get a bottle of wine and…’

  ‘Wine? Hang on Kate,’ I said, laughing.

  ‘Oh yeah. Just slipped my mind for a moment.’

  We walked arm in arm down the high street and into the supermarket, chatting and laughing. I felt so happy. I glanced up at the notices by the door where I’d seen the card advertising the job in the dress shop.

  If I had glanced the other way, if I had looked over my shoulder, I would have seen him.

  Neither of us knew it, but he had been waiting a long time. Waiting for his opportunity. He had followed Kate from Oxford. He had been sitting in the café all the time we were there, reading a newspaper, hidden from view behind a large pot plant.

  He came into the supermarket after us and neither of us noticed him.

  The supermarket was crowded with shoppers getting their last minute weekend food.

  ‘I’ll get stuff for dinner,’ said Kate. ‘My treat.’

  ‘OK. I’ll go and buy some milk.’

  We separated. I went down the aisle to the dairy section, Kate went over to the delicatessen.

  I was bending over, picking a carton out of the chiller cabinet, when I felt someone jostle me. And then I felt a stab of pain as something was plunged into my arm. I remember whipping round and seeing a man’s face up close. A Pakistani man.

  And then everything went black.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Kate

  It happened so fast. I was talking to the lady behind the deli counter, asking her to make sure the quiche had no bacon in it, when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw some people leaning over a figure huddled on the floor in another aisle.

  ‘What’s going on?’ I asked the deli lady.

  ‘Dunno. Looks like someone’s fainted. Not surprising. There’s always such a crowd here on a Saturday.’

  I took the quiche and turned away, strolling back towards the dairy counter to find Halima. The girl who had fainted was being carried out by a young man, and at first I didn’t notice who she was.

  Then I spotted her top. The charity shop top she’d been so proud of.

  ‘Halima!’ I shouted.

  I dropped the quiche and ran after them, pushing people aside in my hurry. People swore at me, barred my path, but I fought my way through. The man had gone through the doors, and was carrying her outside.

  ‘Halima!’ I yelled again.

  They were in the road by now.

  Someone said to me, ‘It’s OK. She’s with her brother.’

  ‘Her brother?’

  ‘Yes, the man’s her brother. He said she often faints.’

  For a moment I hesitated. Was Imran here – or Khalil? Surely not. She’d said none of her family knew where she was. I ran outside on to the pavement and saw the man bundling her into the back of a car.

  The man was not her brother.

  I turned to the little crowd of people behind me. ‘That’s not her brother!’ I shouted. ‘Stop him!’

  But there was bewilderment on their faces and no one moved, so I raced across the road, dodging the traffic, and reached the car as it was pulling away from the kerb. I yanked at the back door, but it was locked. I banged on the windows, shouting and screaming at the driver to stop, but he took no notice and accelerated away, looking straight ahead. I ran after the car, and the tyres screamed as he pulled the wheel round and headed down the road. Several drivers had to brake sharply as he swerved and wove in and out of the traffic.

  The number. I must get the car number.

  I screwed up my eyes and tried to focus on the letters and numbers on the number plate. I repeated them to myself and then fumbled in my bag and found a scrap of paper and a biro. With trembling hands, I wrote them down before I forgot. Then I ran back to where the car had been, to the little knot of people who were standing there staring.

  ‘What’s the matter, love?’ said someone as I came running back to them.

  I was so out of breath that I could hardly speak. ‘Get the police,’ I gasped. ‘Someone please call the police. She’s been kidnapped. My friend’s been kidnapped!’

  I felt an arm round my shoulder. It was Halima’s friend from the café.

  ‘Calm down, love,’ she said. ‘What’s this all about?’

  I took a few deep breaths and tried to speak clearly. ‘She’s in danger,’ I said quietly. ‘Believe me, she’s in real danger. I must speak to the police.’

  ‘OK, come back to the café and we’ll call from there.’ Then she stooped down and picked something up from the ground. ‘Here, you’ve dropped your phone.’

  I felt in my pocket. My phone was still there. I looked at the mobile in the woman’s hand and my heart missed a beat. It was Halima’s. It must have fallen out of her pocket when she was being dumped in the car. Without her phone, she’d have no way of contacting me.

  I took it from the woman and she gently led me back to the café. She had locked up for the night, but she let me in and we sat at one of the tables as I phoned the police.

  The process was so slow.

  ‘Can you come to the police station, Madam?’

  ‘Well yes, I suppose so, but the longer we leave it…’

  ‘Yes Madam, I understand your concern, but we’ll need a statement.’

  Why? Why did they need a statement? I’d given them the car number. Why couldn’t they stop it?

  I went on gabbling, the words spilling out. ‘There was this man in the supermarket. He said she’d fainted and that he was her brother.’

  ‘We’ll check that out, Madam.’

  ‘But he’s not her brother. I’ve met her brothers!’

  ‘If you can come to the station Madam, we’ll take down all the details.’

  I snapped my mobile shut and banged the table with frustration. ‘That car could be anywhere by now. Anything could be happening to her.’

  Then I felt a hand on my arm. ‘Come on. We’ll go to the police station,’ said Halima’s friend. ‘It’s not far.’

  We ran all the way to the police station. The man on duty was calm and kind but I couldn’t stand the fact that nothing was happening.

  ‘We’ll need her home address,’ he said. ‘Then we can check whether it was her brother.’

  ‘But I’m telling you it wasn’t! I’ve met her brothers.’

  The policeman looked at me steadily. ‘That may be so,’ he said, ‘but it could have been another relation. I’ll speak to the family.’

  ‘OK,’ I said. I was sure that her family would be horrified at what had happened to her. Halima had always said that her father wouldn’t want her harmed.

  Slowly and methodically, the policeman took down the phone number of Halima’s parents and went into another room. He was gone a long time, and I paced up and down, gnawing my nails. Halima’s friend from the café kept coming up with soothing platitudes, which set my teeth on edge.

  At last the policeman came back. He was smiling. ‘I’ve spoken to her father,’ he said, ‘and it appears that her cousin came here on a surprise visit. She’s with him, and they’re on their way back to Walthamstow to spend the rest of the weekend with the family.’

  ‘What? Her father said what?’

  He repeated it.

  I stared at him open-mouthed. ‘And you believed him? For God’s sake, she ran away from home because her father wants to force her to marry some guy she’s never met. Her parents didn’t even know where she was. She doesn’t want to go home. Don’t you understand?’ I was shouting now and I know I was sounding hysterical. ‘Oh, please do something.’

  There was silence and the man looked uneasy. For a moment I thought he might change his mind and try and help find her, but then he spoke again. ‘Look, her father reassured me that she’s safe and with a member of the family.’

  And however muc
h I ranted and raved, he was adamant that he wasn’t going to take it any further.

  It was getting late, and suddenly I couldn’t bear to be stuck in the station any longer. If I hurried, I could catch the last bus back to Oxford. I wanted to be back in my room, among my sane friends, away from this madness. But most of all, I needed time to think.

  I chose a seat on the bus at the back, well away from anyone else.

  What should I do? I was absolutely sure that Halima’s father was lying. But if he was, then he must know what was happening. He must have condoned this kidnap. Surely no father would do that to their daughter, would they?

  How had they tracked her down? She’d been so careful.

  And then I realised. Of course! It was through me! Her family knew how close we were. They probably thought I’d helped her run away and that I knew where she was. They guessed I’d contact her, so someone in her family must have given her abductor my name. Imran was right about a stalker. But the stalker must have been watching me, knowing that sooner or later I’d lead him to Halima. It would have been easy enough to track me down. I thought back to the article in the local paper and cursed.

  ‘It’s all my fault,’ I muttered. ‘I’ve messed everything up for her.’

  As the bus rolled along in the autumn twilight, I tried to focus my thoughts. I felt so powerless – and so guilty.

  I took Halima’s phone out of my bag and started to scroll down her address book.

  Asma. No, Halima wouldn’t want me to contact her.

  Imran. Well, he was the obvious one. Would he believe me? Would he help?

  I took a deep breath and pressed the call button.

  ‘Hi, little sister. How are you?’

  ‘Imran. It’s not Halima. I’m just using her phone. It’s her friend from school. Kate. Do you remember me?’

  ‘Er, yeah…’

  ‘Look Imran. It’s about Halima. She’s… she’s disappeared, and I’m really worried about her.’

  ‘What? What’s happened?’

  I spoke fast, tripping over my words, giving him no chance to interrupt. ‘I was shopping with her today in a supermarket. We were in different places and then the next thing I know, some guy is carrying her out of the shop saying he’s her brother and she’s fainted and he’s taking her home…’