East of Hounslow

by Khurrum Rahman

  ‘Good‚ good‚’ he said. ‘So‚ this Training Camp… I think you should attend‚ Jay.’

  ‘I said I’ll confirm tonight.’

  ‘Of course‚ tonight. Just remember‚ we’ve looked after you‚ gave you a job‚ got Silas Drakos off your back… I even got your car back. Time for you to repay the favour. Yes?’

  I inserted a choice CD into the player and skipped to the harshest‚ most destructive‚ battle tune ever recorded. Hit ’em up‚ by 2Pac. I opened up my glove compartment and slipped out my orange-tint Aviator sunglasses and slid them on‚ just as the bass kicked in.

  ‘Yes?’ Lawrence asked me‚ again.

  I put the handbrake down‚ dropped the gear into first and I looked at that sneaky fucker and simply shrugged. As shrugs go‚ it may have been my best.

  The permanent smug look on that arrogant twat’s face disappeared as I cranked up the volume. ’Pac started to spit out his message of intent‚ and I wheel-spun the fuck out of there‚ leaving Lawrence in my wake.

  *

  Once out of sight‚ I slipped my car to the side of the road and flipped open the boot‚ just in case the rucksack full of Silas’ weed and cash was still there. Wishful thinking; it wasn’t. In an evidence room somewhere‚ I guess‚ or possibly some bent coppers getting high on my supply. It didn’t matter‚ with Silas locked up‚ I had nobody to hand it back too‚ anyway. There was no way I was trusting Staples with it.

  I hit the motorway‚ wanting to open up the valves and feel the roar of the engine. I drove at high speeds‚ not quite able to believe that I had been reunited with my car but at the same time I was fucking vexed at them for trying to bribe me. I kept the same tune on rotation and it did nothing but fuel my anger at their cheap trick. They thought I was that fucking easy‚ well in the spirit of my nigga ’Pac.

  Fuck Lawrence. Fuck Sinclair. Fuck Parker‚ and fuck that fat motherfucker Robinson. And most of all fuck MI5.

  If I was going to go through with this‚ it was going to be on my own terms.

  I slipped off the motorway into trustworthy old Hounslow‚ and made my way to Parvez’s house. I parked in my drive‚ walked across the road and stood in front of his door. I had no idea what I was going to say to him. I purposely did not try to word or rehearse it in my head. It had to be a conversation that came naturally. But my objective was clear. Talk him the fuck out of it.

  I jabbed at the doorbell a couple of times and Parvez’s mum opened the door. Her smile widened as she saw me and in turn made me grin stupidly. I felt like a child again‚ knocking on my neighbour’s door‚ seeing if Parvez wanted to come out and play.

  ‘Jay‚ Beta‚’ she screeched. ‘It is so good to see you.’

  ‘Aslamalykum‚ Aunty‚’ I said‚ respectfully.

  ‘You haven’t been here in…’

  ‘Ages‚’ I said. ‘Years.’

  ‘Well don’t just stand there‚ come inside. What can I get you? Chai? Samosa?’

  ‘No‚ thanks. I’m fine… Is Parvez at home?’

  ‘Yes‚ he is in his room‚ looking for a job on his computer. Go up and I will bring you chai and samosa in a minute.’

  ‘No‚ Aunty‚ really. I am fine‚’ I said‚ making my way up the stairs as she disappeared into the kitchen.

  I knocked on his door and without waiting for a reply I walked in. He was sitting on a swivel chair with his back to me‚ furiously closing windows on his computer. He swivelled around to me and his eyes widened.

  ‘Oh‚ it’s you‚’ he said‚ making me feel right at home.

  ‘Yeah. It’s me‚’ I said‚ taking in his room. It wasn’t at all how I had remembered it. The posters had been removed. Back to the Future‚ The Shawshank Redemption and the cast of Neighbours had been replaced with framed Islamic Art and religious signs. A prayer mat was sitting at the foot of his bed‚ with prayer beads placed respectfully on top. A slightly lopsided floating shelf with some heavy-looking literature hung above his desk. I tilted my head so that I could read the titles from the spine. The rise of Islamic State‚ The Book of Hadith‚ The Messenger and a few editions of the Holy Quran.

  This was going to be harder than I thought.

  ‘Jay‚ you should have called first‚’ he said‚ looking annoyed.

  I couldn’t help but laugh. This coming from a guy who walked into my room on so many occasions without invitation. The intruder had finally become intruded upon!

  ‘I was just at a loose end‚ so I thought I’d see what you’re up to. So wha’s crackin’?’

  He narrowed his eyebrows. ‘You know what’s happening. I see you all the time‚ Jay. Why are you really here?’

  ‘Man‚ you’re difficult. I just wanted to see you outside of that environment. See what else is happening in your life.’

  ‘That is my life‚ Jay… Just like it is yours.’

  He swivelled around to his computer again and I was left facing the back of his head. After a beat he said: ‘Mum’s been on at me about getting married. She said that I am of age… I’m seeing a girl tomorrow.’

  ‘No way‚ really? I said‚ swivelling his chair back to me. ‘A girl… You?’

  ‘If you are going to make fun of me then—’

  ‘Sorry‚ go ahead. Please.’

  ‘Mum set me up with… You remember Aunty Kamila? She used to live on our road.’

  ‘Aunty Kamila?’ I said‚ smiling at the memory. ‘Oh‚ man. Do I? She was all kinds of hot. Remember we used to call her Aunty Climax?’

  ‘You used to call her that. Not me!’ he chided. I pursed my lips to stop myself from grinning. ‘Anyway‚ it’s her daughter. Mum and Aunty arranged for us to meet tomorrow at Costa Coffee in Harrow.’

  ‘That’s great news. If her daughter looks anything like her then—’ I didn’t finish the sentence and further offend his sensibilities. ‘Make sure you look the part‚ yeah? Dress nice. Don’t turn up in your shalwar‚ kameez and Crocs. Make an effort.’

  ‘I’m just going to be myself‚ Brother.’

  ‘No. Don’t‚’ I advised‚ somewhat harshly. His face reddened. ‘Look‚ Parvez. People that say I’m just going to be myself always‚ always mess up. I’ll tell you what being yourself is: it’s picking your nose at a traffic light. You have all your life to be yourself. Listen‚ you’re a good looking guy and lurking somewhere in you is a half-decent personality. Go out there and impress the hell out of her.’

  He nodded thoughtfully as though he was actually taking my advice‚ and I could see him mentally going through his wardrobe‚ trying to figure out what he was going to dazzle her with. This was good‚ it was just what I needed. I could use this to make him think about his future and how different it could be. But then he shook his head‚ as if trying to clear away a mental picture of a happy life with a wife and a couple of little Parvez’s running around.

  ‘No‚ Brother‚’ he said‚ Parvez the Preacher reappearing. ‘I cannot let anything pollute my mind. I have chosen a path. I am going to cancel my meeting with her. I have to stay focused‚ because next week‚ our life is going to change forever.’

  Before I could reply‚ Aunty walked into the room armed with a tray full of savoury snacks and tea‚ even though I had twice declined her offer. I thanked her as she placed down the tray and ruffled my hair. Parvez rolled his eyes.

  ‘So‚’ she said to me. ‘Big trip for you both next week. Two weeks in sunny Turkey!’

  Parvez’s eyes widened. ‘Mum! Can you just go please?’

  ‘Sorry‚ Beta‚’ she said‚ trying to kiss him on the head. He bobbed and weaved his head out of the way‚ but she was persistent and finally landed one.

  ‘Seriously‚ Mum‚’ he tutted. ‘Go!’

  She left the room‚ laughing to herself and as the door shut I was on him straight away.

  ‘Parvez‚ what the fuck‚ man?’ I snapped. ‘You have to tell me if you’re going to use my name.’

  ‘I had to tell her something.’ He expelled air at t
he close call. ‘I know I should have told you‚ I was going to tell you. How was I to know that you were going to pop around after six years?’

  ‘What? What does that mean?’

  ‘It doesn’t mean anything.’

  I let it slide. I knew what he was getting at. In his eyes‚ our relationship had always been one sided.

  ‘You said two weeks to her?’ I said.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But surely we are going to be there for longer‚ right?’

  ‘Probably.’

  ‘Isn’t she going to get suss when you’re not back after two weeks?’

  He fixed his eyes on me and blinked slowly. ‘Brother‚ next week‚ just before I walk out of this house‚ I am going to embrace my Mum tightly‚ because Allah knows that the way my life has been written I will never be seeing her again.’

  52

  I walked back home in a daze. Head down‚ hands in my pocket‚ gently kicking a small stone along the way with me. I felt defeated‚ deflated. Even the sight of my Beemer could not get me out of my state. I hadn’t even had the chance to talk Parvez out of it. It would have been a redundant discussion. His mind was firmly made up. He didn’t care about his future‚ about getting married and having children. It was a shame‚ he would have made a good husband and father. His kids would have grown up to be just as irritating as him‚ and his wife would have walked all over him. And I think he needed that. It would have made him happy. But his head was somewhere else‚ cleansed of the thoughts that you and me would have‚ and replaced with ideas well beyond my understanding.

  If he was willing to walk away from his family and knowingly break his mum’s heart in the name of jihad‚ what chance did I have in changing his mind?

  I fished my house keys out of my pocket and looked up at my front door‚ and the last person I expected to see was standing on my porch.

  ‘You’ve changed the way you walk‚’ Idris said. ‘What happened to your stupid I-have-a-limp‚ bad-man walk?’

  I just shrugged sadly at him. I couldn’t take any more. My life was spiralling and this was the last thing that I needed.

  ‘How’ve you been‚ Jay?’

  ‘Good. I’ve been good‚’ I said‚ not convincing anyone. ‘You?’

  ‘You know?’ No‚ actually. I don’t. ‘Just getting on with it.’

  ‘New job treating you well?’

  ‘You really want to know?’ He smiled‚ knowingly.

  ‘No‚’ I said. ‘Not really.’

  We stood awkwardly regarding each other. I started to fidget and look around everywhere but at him. I saw Saara or Sabina or whatever her name was‚ across the road on her bicycle‚ and the incident with her and her boyfriend came back at me‚ and not for the first time I regretted acting like such a fool. I owed both of them an apology. Maybe I would buy her some flowers or treat them to a fancy dinner somewhere uptown. Anything to ease the fucking guilt I felt eating through me. She was eyeing me with suitable disdain. I put my hand up and waved at her‚ hoping that in that single gesture all would be forgotten and forgiven. She returned it with a wave of her own‚ one that involved a middle finger while mouthing the words Fuck You!

  ‘Still have a way with the ladies‚’ Idris smirked.

  ‘What’s up‚ Idris?’ I said‚ ignoring the remark. ‘Why are you here?’

  ‘Look‚ Jay. I’m not going to beat around the bush… I’ve been hearing things about you.’

  ‘Have you really?’ I waited for him to elaborate. ‘So much for not beating around the bush!’

  ‘I know what you’re involved in.’

  ‘I very much doubt it‚’ I said. As far as I was concerned, this conversation was over. He didn’t know shit‚ he couldn’t have. Yeah‚ he may know about my increased interest in Islam and my new so-called friends. But so what? I wasn’t going to stand here and explain myself to him. He no longer had that right. I tried to step past him towards my front door but he side-stepped and stood in my way.

  ‘Get out of my way‚ man‚’ I said. ‘I’m not in the mood.’ I tried to move past him again‚ but he pushed me back.

  ‘Not yet‚ Jay‚’ he said. ‘I need to talk to you.’

  I tried to push him back but he saw it coming and moved easily out of the way‚ causing me to stumble clumsily forward.

  ‘Easy‚ Jay. I just want to talk.’

  I spun on my heels and before I knew it I was nose to nose with him. Pent up anger surfacing. He took a step back and put his hands out in a placatory manner. I swatted them out of the way and stepped back in his face.

  ‘Let’s not do this‚ eh‚ mate?’

  ‘Get off my property. You’re not welcome here.’

  ‘Jay‚ listen‚ I just want a word. Then I’m with the wind.’

  I attempted to push him again‚ and this time‚ if I am honest‚ he allowed me to and he stumbled back against my Beemer. I wanted to hurt him just like he’d hurt me. I wanted to show him how much I had changed. Who the fuck was he to walk out of my life and wander coolly back in whenever he wanted to? No‚ I’m not having that. Before I knew it‚ one of my hands had gripped his jacket and the other was around his neck. He prised my fingers away from his neck without much effort‚ and twisted my arm. I dropped to one knee‚ but my other hand was still gripping his jacket and he came down with me. We untangled and faced each other on the floor of my driveway. My neighbours were probably at their windows filming this! I was breathing hard and annoyingly he wasn’t.

  ‘Shit‚ Jay. You got some moves.’ I didn’t think that he was taking this fight as seriously as I was‚ and that set me off again. I lunged at him. It was a slow and predictable move. He saw it coming‚ the fucking neighbours probably saw it coming. He moved out of the way and I went shoulder first into the back of my car. Before I could react‚ and swat away the stars orbiting my head‚ he had me in a headlock.

  ‘Let go of me‚’ I screamed at him‚ as his bicep squeezed against my neck.

  ‘Not until you listen to me.’

  ‘Get the fuck off me.’

  ‘Will you listen to me?’

  While we were on the floor bonding‚ we never noticed a minicab pull up in front of the driveway‚ or the car door open and close again. We never noticed her walk across the driveway and stand over us.

  ‘That’s enough‚’ she said‚ and Idris let go of me and we both looked up at her as though we were about nine years old and about to be grounded.

  ‘Mum!’ I said‚ expecting her to reach down and plant kisses all over my face and hug the crap out of me.

  ‘Bring my bags in‚’ she said instead‚ and she let herself inside the house.

  Me and Idris both stood to our feet and brushed ourselves down.

  ‘That’s what I was trying to tell you‚ idiot‚’ he said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Your mum‚’ he said. ‘I called her back here.’

  53

  Qatar had been good to Mum. She appeared healthy‚ browner‚ her hair lighter‚ her face fuller. She looked like she had been having the time of her life until Idris called her back – for reasons as yet unknown to me. She carried a look on her face which I didn’t want to believe was disappointment. But it was disappointment.

  I stood in the living room in front of her. Idris had followed me in and was standing next to me. I watched my mum sitting in her armchair‚ taking in the room. My eyes followed her gaze and I saw the room through her eyes. Takeaway cartons‚ one for every day of the week‚ scattered across the battered and wonky coffee table. Pizza boxes‚ piled up on the carpet‚ one on top of another creating a leaning tower‚ a telling narrative of my diet. Her eyes moved to where the television had lived‚ and it was time for me to open my mouth.

  ‘Funny story‚ I—’

  A stern finger was out before I had a chance to blag out an excuse‚ and a look flashed across her face. I was actually scared. Of Mum!

  She looked at Idris.

  ‘You were supposed
to be his friend.’

  ‘Aunty‚ you can’t blame me‚’ Idris exclaimed.

  ‘Yes‚ I can. You should have been keeping an eye on him.’

  ‘Aunty‚ with all due respect‚ Jay’s old and ugly enough to look after himself.’

  ‘And how did that work out for him? Hmm? If that was the case‚ why did you phone me? Why didn’t you just talk to him yourself?’

  ‘We… Um… We haven’t been in touch‚ recently. That’s why I went to you. Somebody has to talk some sense into him. There was no way he would listen to me.’

  ‘Oh I get it‚’ I said. ‘Is this‚ like‚ an intervention?’ I said‚ half joking.

  Mum ignored me and I started to freak out a bit.

  ‘Idris‚ you can go now. I need to speak with my son‚’ Mum looked at me. ‘Alone.’

  Idris said goodbye to Mum‚ which was largely ignored‚ walked out of the living room and into the hallway. I followed him out just as he was opening the front door.

  ‘Idris‚’ I whispered. ‘What the fuck did you do?’

  ‘I’m sorry‚ Jay. I had to.’

  I didn’t press him. I was going to find out very soon what all this was about. He put his hand out and I stared at it for a second before shaking it.

  ‘Catch you later?’ He said it like a question.

  The most honest answer I could give him was‚ ‘Maybe.’

  *

  ‘You know‚’ Mum said‚ softly. ‘I don’t know what happened to the TV‚ the coffee table or my plant pots‚ and I don’t really care. I don’t care that you have been pigging out on junk. I don’t even care that you have been lying to me about getting yourself an office job. None of that worries me. Because I thought… You know what I thought? I thought‚ yes‚ he’ll play up‚ destroy the house‚ live in the fast lane‚ and be downright self-destructive. I mean‚ you’re young‚ I didn’t expect you to run this house and live your life by the book. But… But I thought eventually‚ you’d come good… I thought you were your mother’s son.’ A tear slid out of her eye as she added: ‘But you’re not. You‚ Jay… are your father’s son.’