Unseen Evil

by Liz Mistry

  I raise my voice and break through the fucking neediness that crackles down the line. ‘I’m relying on you. We’ve been through this time and time again.

  It.

  Is.

  Necessary.

  ‘It’s the only way and you know this. They’re all liars and hypocrites. They deserve this and it is our duty to show everyone… to expose this to the world.’

  Dramatic Pause… This next part of my delivery is important… crucial even. This will seal the deal.

  ‘Are you with me?’

  The voice, when Pisces responds, is weak… shaky. ‘Yes.’

  Glad that I’m home alone, I raise my voice to almost a shout. ‘Are You With Me?’

  ‘Yes.’

  I stand up and little shards of ice trickle down my back and fall out the bottom of my T-shirt, landing on the carpet. I pull my shoulders back and stare at my reflection in the wall mirror opposite. My eyes are sparkling, my cheeks flushed. I pull myself to my full height and glare at my image. I pull my mouth into a sneer, chin up. ‘ARE YOU WITH ME?’

  For a nano-second there’s silence. Probably shitting it. I swallow the urge to giggle and school my face into its stern expression once more. Just when I’m about to let rip again, the reply comes.

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘AGAIN!’

  ‘YES!’

  ‘All right then, text me when you’ve set off – use the throwaway. No selfies or anything on that phone yeah?’

  I smile and slump back down on the couch just as I hear the front door opening. I hang up, slip the phone in my pocket and, grabbing my empty glass, I slip off to my room. Everything’s in place.

  Locking the door behind me, I throw myself on my bed and make bets on how long it’ll take until I hear her calling my name up the stairs. Fucking does my head in! Why can’t she leave me alone…? stop breathing down my neck? Sometimes, it makes my skin crawl… she makes my fucking skin crawl. I know she can’t help being needy, but sometimes I just need a break from it. I swallow the urge to bellow, I HATE YOU, into the air and instead, I slip my earbuds in and crank up the music. Now, if the bitch calls, I won’t hear her. I’ve got things to do, plans to finesse and I don’t need her chewing my ear off. She can find something to do without me holding her hand.

  In some ways, I’m still pinching myself. A year ago, who’d have thought I’d be here now? That was a close call… everything could’ve gone tits up… but, hey, it didn’t. Like always, I got myself out of it – easy when you’re as clever as me… even easier when they’re so stupid.

  That’s all in the past and I’ve got new puppets to control. It’s so damn easy…

  The first thing I do, wherever I am, is identify the weakest… those with baggage or vulnerabilities. And of course, you got the losers…the lonely… the outcasts. This part of the process can be time consuming, but it’s well worth the wait. One of my many skills is the ability to blend into the crowd and observe. What most people don’t realise is that they carry their problems with them on their person. These may be invisible to most people, but I pride myself on my ability to see what others can’t. Perhaps it’s because I’ve been invisible all my life… or have I? Maybe that’s just a lie to confuse things, to put you off the scent… whatever… you’ll never know, will you? Not unless I choose to tell you, but even then, you’ll be wondering… every word I utter might be a lie… then again, it might be the truth. Who was it said that the ‘definition of stupid is knowing the truth, seeing the truth, but still believing the lies?’ – amazing how they do that – believe the lies… believe my lies.

  I think I’ve found myself a worthy adversary though. Nearly one hundred per cent sure… we’ll see. So far, I’ve nothing to back that up, nothing except gut instinct and… let’s face it I’m rarely wrong there… time will tell… time will tell.

  My body is light… as if I’m floating. All the tension’s gone and I snuggle further down in the bed. Relaxed… happy… confident that everything will go to plan… I think ahead and go through each and every little segment of the evening. Minute by minute, I dissect what will happen, anticipate every reaction, every response… There is nothing I haven’t thought of… nothing I’ve not accounted for.

  With delicious precision, I home in on the best bits… and my body starts to tingle… my heartbeat accelerates, my face flushes I can hardly wait… but first… I pull the zip of my shorts down just enough to insert my hand… something a bit more important to deal with.

  CHAPTER 3

  Ice cream, splash pools, and picnics here at Ilkley Lido as the weekend draws to a close. Capital Radio on the ground in a record heatwave as temperatures reach highs of…

  ‘F

  ucking unbearable sauna-like proportions…’

  ‘Eh?’ Taffy looked up, startled, as the words exploded from Gus’ mouth. ‘Eh?’ he repeated.

  Gus tightened the bandana round his head and pulled the fan closer to him. The anonymous letter had been sent off to the lab and Patti had kissed Gus goodbye, waving off suggestions that he get a uniformed officer to escort her to her own home.

  A combination of the heat and the thought that his stalker had somehow gained access to his back garden had left Gus angry and anxious. Bingo, with his dog flap allowing him into the house when he needed it, was free to roam while Gus was at work and Gus had always considered him safe. Not anymore! The reference to the three people he loved most in the world was an implied threat and, regardless of how firmly Gus tried to clamp down on thoughts of his mum being mugged on entering his garden through the back door, or some sinister figure slipping poison into Bingo’s water, or some dangerous monster stalking Patti, he found it hard to focus. Although the perfume on the letter hinted at the sender being a woman, Gus was keeping an open mind. It could be anyone and over the years he’d made more friends than enemies… of all sexes. He’d left Patti with strict instructions to keep her doors locked, her home alarm set, and to keep in touch. He’d also tasked her with making a list of the places and times she’d worn the vibrant blue dress mentioned in the letter. It was fairly new, and she thought she’d only worn it a few times. It would be useful to be able to catalogue when and where she could have been seen wearing it.

  Gus’ next-door neighbours on either side had cameras front and back, so Gus had asked if Compo could have access to their most recent recordings, as both were motion-activated and covered some of his drive and part of the steps leading to his front door. Compo, to the sounds of Stevie Wonder’s ‘You Are the Sunshine of My Life’, was doing his thing with them. Gus had asked his dad to collect Bingo and take him to his house for the foreseeable future. Security made his parents’ house on Shay Lane almost impenetrable and Bingo would be safe there. In fact, it was his second home and the dog would see it as a holiday. It was Gus who’d miss returning home to his wagging tail and determined lick fest.

  …Factor to minimise the risk of contracting skin cancer…

  Reaching over, Gus switched the radio off. If today had panned out as planned, he and Patti would have taken Mo and Naila’s four youngest daughters to the lido but now, because of this, he had to let them down. It wasn’t just that the girls were gutted, he’d hoped that taking the kids off their hands would give them the chance to spend uninterrupted time with their eldest daughter. Zarqa was playing up big time and Gus hated to see his friend’s family in such pain. They’d been through months of hell with Zarqa finding it hard to adjust to the fact that the man she’d always thought was her father was in fact not… more to the point, he had been responsible for her real father’s death. Mo and Naila were really struggling.

  ‘Results back in yet, Taff?’

  Gus wasn’t surprised when the younger man shook his head. It was a Sunday and it wasn’t urgent. Still, Gus was left with an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. Rather than petering out as he’d hoped, his stalker had become more audacious by turning up at his door. The thing was, much as he wanted to get to the bottom of it himsel
f, Gus was aware that procedurally he had to pass it along to another investigative team. ‘Okay, gather everything we’ve got, make copies for me, and then pass the originals along to C team.’

  He could almost feel the relief rolling off Taffy at his words and he ignored the conspiratorial nod his two officers shared. They’d wanted to pass it along when the first letter arrived, but Gus had dug his heels in. Now, however, even he knew it was time. Not that he wouldn’t keep an eye on things, but someone else would be in charge.

  Before he could say anything, Compo spoke, ‘I’ll send them copies of this footage, Gus, but I’m gonna look at it myself. Things are quiet today.’

  Lifting his phone to contact a home security company, Gus nodded. ‘Thanks, Comp. Appreciated.’

  Within seconds he was arranging for someone to come and give a quote. He’d have to pay through the nose for a Sunday consultation, but he was prepared to pay over the odds for expedited service – this wasn’t just about him anymore. As he hung up, his phone rang; ‘The Bitch is Back’ blared out against the sound of the whirring desk fan. Both Taffy and Compo’s heads jerked up at the same time. Gus took a deep breath and dismissed the call.

  He was in no mood to deal with his argumentative ex-wife today.

  CHAPTER 4

  I t’s getting dark – gloaming, that’s what Gus’ old dad calls it. Last year, when we were at Robin Hood’s Bay, he kept singing that stupid song about roaming in the gloaming wi a lassie by his side. Never mind, I do like him. At least he’s not always on my case – not like Mo, anyway.

  I have to get out of the house. Mum seems to think she can feed me out of all this. ‘Zarqa have some food.’ ‘Zarqa, I made this for you, beti.’ Phuh! If I smell another kebab or see another fucking samosa, I’ll scream. Makes my hair stink. That’s the trouble with long hair, any bit of frying sticks to it. Mo always stinks of oil. Fucking samosa man – must have been thick at school if that’s the only job he can get. Don’t know what she sees in him, I really don’t. He’s pure uggers. And that was another thing. The way he went on when I got my tattoo… at least that stopped them moaning as much when I got my hair dip-dyed. Still, you’d think I’d shaved it off and converted to Buddhism the way they went on. She’s the social worker, does she really think food’s the answer?

  It’s so hot and I can’t ever get away from them. Mum and Mo are always there, looking at me like I’m gonna slit my wrists or swallow a handful of paracetamol. Can’t they just leave me alone? Just leave me a-fuckin’ lone?

  Can’t stand this place. Bradford – Bradistan – full of bloody Pakis with their thobes and prayer hats and hijabs and niqabs, thinking they’re all that. Like wearing that sort of shit makes them better people, when we all know all it does is cover-up their nasty sins – the shit they get up to underneath it all. The stuff they cover-up and ignore, the stuff happening right under their noses.

  I slam out of the house.

  ‘Zarqa! Come back here, right this minute!’

  Yeah right, watch me. Ignoring the twinge of guilt at the thought of my mum begging me to stay, to stop arguing, I head off down the path and as I open the gate, I see he’s at the door, with my mum holding him back. She’s crying again, but so what? I’m crying too – just not out front, like her. She’s not the one that hears all the whispers. She’s not the one The Young Jihadists laugh about – idiots the lot of them. But I’ll show them – I’ll show them, all right.

  I turn left and head down to the park to meet Jo Jo. Hope he’s got the goods. I start jogging along North Park Road. The last of the sun makes me warm and I want to take my hoodie off, but the first beep from a car full of Asian lads with the windows down and the smell of weed drifting out, has me putting the hood up over my hair, making sure it’s all tucked in. I stick my elbows out, bulking myself out and walk like a lad. Mind you, with shorts on it’s hard to look masculine. Bloody dickwads! You’d think I was walking about in the scud, the way they heckle and jeer. As they drive past, I glance in. I recognise three of them – they go to our mosque. Butter wouldn’t melt and shit when they’re doing namaz – telling their sisters to cover-up and then off they go kerb crawling round Manningham looking to hassle anybody not wearing a hijab. How’s that right? If I had a knife, I’d slash their tyres. Maybe next time they’re at mosque I’ll do just that – hit the bastards where it hurts.

  Ping!

  Text! Can’t she just leave me alone? I shove my phone back in my pocket and keep moving. Lister Park’s still busy. Used to like coming here with my mum and the kids and Mo. Can’t call him ‘Dad’ – not anymore. How can I call the man who killed my biological dad, Dad? A scorpion uncurls in my chest – ready to sting – ready to make me cry. I swallow and let the anger smother it. Then again, how can I call the man who raped my mum, ‘Dad’ either? Truth is they’re right. All of them are fucking right. The leering old bastards at the mosque are right, the gossiping hijabis at school are right, the pious Darth Vaders in their burkas looking down at me in Kanna Peena are right, and the dirty little Pakistani boys, trying to cop a feel in the dinner queue at school, are right too – I’m nowt but a bastard – a dirty fucking bastard without a dad. A dirty fucking bastard with a mum who’s got a whole load of other kids who’re not bastards. A dirty fucking bastard who doesn’t belong – who doesn’t have real sisters and with grandparents who’d rather live in Pakistan than see her.

  I’m running hard now, trying to dislodge the scorpion before it stings. I’m fed up of crying. Won’t think about Mo playing bowls, or the time he capsized the pedalo in the lake because he stood up to do a Titanic impression. Or us all with ice creams, the kids’ faces all sticky and smiling. I was always the outsider, just didn’t know it then.

  Like I told Jo Jo, I’m done crying, done being weak. From now on I’m taking things into my own hands. I don’t fit in here… don’t belong. They all know it. So, from now on, I’m going to be me. No more Mo’s daughter, Zarqa. No more the girl from the samosa shop. No, from now on I’m just me and they’ll soon know all about it.

  When I get to the bandstand, the park’s gone quiet. Just shadowy figures and cigarettes lighting up near the trees and bushes. It’s not dark yet, but it won’t be long. I check my phone – see if he’s texted. Nothing. Kids have scooted, the ice cream van’s gone – just the no-gooders left – the drug dealers, the pimps, and the doggers. Where the hell is Jo Jo? I told him not to be late! I sit on the bottom step and check my phone again. Still nowt. He’ll come up from the bottom of the park, up from Manningham Lane ’cause that’s where his bus’ll stop. I see a figure walking up the hill towards Cartwright Hall, but I don’t stand up yet. Not going to draw attention to myself until I know it’s him.

  The figure raises an arm and waves. ‘Zarqa?’

  He’s got his hoodie on too… and jeans. Must be sweltering. Best not to look too much like a white boy in this neck of the woods. I jump to my feet and run towards him. Thank God! I was beginning to think he’d stood me up. When I reach him, I give him a hug. He’s all tall and spindly, but he smells nice – Lynx or summat. ‘You’re bloody late.’

  He just grins, and shrugs. ‘Sunday service. Besides, you know my motto – treat ’em mean keep ’em keen.’

  I swat his arm and tut. ‘Yeah right, whatever.’ We start to walk back to the bandstand. The silence is never awkward when I’m with Jo Jo. Maybe cos he’s gay, I don’t know. Just one of those things, I suppose. Never feel I have to pretend with him. I’m just me, Zarqa, and that’s enough for both of us. He doesn’t talk all the time, just when he’s got summat to say. Wish the rest of the kids our age were like him, instead of being dicks – giggling and yelling and slagging off folk all the time. ‘Got a cig?’

  He sighs and pulls a pack from his jean’s pocket. ‘You never used to smoke. You don’t have to, you know? You could just be your own person.’ He nudges me and grins. ‘I’d still like you, you know?’

  But I can see he’s looking at me with that serious face
of his. That’s the thing with Jo Jo. He always wants to fix you. Well, he needs to learn that you can’t fix everything – some things are beyond repair. ‘Just give me a fucking cig, yeah?’

  We sit on the bottom step for a while, blowing smoke circles. I’m crap at it, but Jo Jo can do right big ones. Finally, I put my hand in my pocket and pull out a tenner. ‘You got the stuff?’

  He looks at me, his eyes all serious like he’s my big brother or summat. ‘You sure?’

  ‘Give us a break. Course I’m sure. Why wouldn’t I be?’

  He shrugs. ‘Just it’s not really you, is it?’

  ‘Course it is. It’s the new me.’

  I can see he’s still reluctant, so I nudge him again. ‘You don’t have to do it.’

  ‘Yeah, right, and let you do it all on your own. Don’t think so. Come on, if we’re doing this, we’re doing it together. That was the deal.’ He rummages in his rucksack for a minute and then shows me the goods. ‘Happy?’

  A zing of adrenalin zaps through me. My heart’s thumping like bongos, but I’m ready. I’ve never done owt like this before, still, I’m ready. I leap to my feet, eager to get going now and Jo Jo follows me. I link arms with him, and we walk up to North Park Road and out of the park. As we get closer our steps slow down. Now it’s time, I’m a bit nervous.

  ‘You okay?’ Jo Jo’s giving me a get-out clause. He never wanted to do this. He’s only here because he’s my friend.

  I nearly say ‘no let’s just leave it.’ But then everything I’ve been feeling for the past months wells up inside me. All the misery, all the hate, all the rage, and I nod.

  ‘Someone’s got to pay. Let’s do it.’

  CHAPTER 5

  I t was that time just before dreams faded into a deep sleep. The central heating was cooling and, barring the occasional vehicle rumbling past, or the random owl’s hoot as it flew by, its eyes no doubt zeroing in on its unsuspecting prey, there was near silence. Haider was uncomfortable. It was so damn hot… nobody else in the whole of Bradford would have their heating on but they had relatives over from Pakistan and his auntie was shivering and moaning; It’s so cold, put the heating up a little! Don’t know how you can live here in this cold!