I opened the front door‚ just as Naaim burst into a staccato cry. I considered going back‚ but it was time for him to let it all out and finally mourn in peace. He didn’t need me. He certainly didn’t need Ira. Her whole life she felt as though she’d been swallowed up and spat out by the system. Because she was black. Somali. Or just Muslim. Who knows? Naaim just happened to be an outlet for her to channel her anger. But now‚ as rare as it is‚ justice will be served; the system that worked against Ira her whole life was now working for Naaim.
I crossed the road‚ the hint of a spring in my step‚ and approached my car. I flipped down the visor and glanced in the mirror. I looked like shit‚ the last few weeks well and truly written on my face. But I was feeling pretty good about myself. I buckled up my seatbelt and started the car. I looked over at Naaim’s house as I indicated and manoeuvred out. He’d come this close to destroying himself.
I pulled into my drive. Before getting out of my Nova‚ I looked out of the driver’s side window‚ just to make sure there was no knife-wielding maniac from my past trying to slice me. I smiled as I got out.
68
Imy
It was Sunday. Two days since Pathaan had put it on the line. The Glock was cleaned‚ checked and loaded. I would carry it out methodically and without emotion‚ and I’d be back home with nothing to fear but the demons in my head.
I had to get through the day first‚ and the small matter of Khala meeting Stephanie and Jack for the first time. She had called me late yesterday evening. Typical Khala‚ typical last minute notice. She officially invited us all for a Dawat. A feast fit for her new family. I couldn’t tell her no‚ especially since she’d been so understanding. Stephanie wasn’t as understanding; she needed more time to prepare and fuss and organise. Hesitantly‚ she’d agreed‚ and then frantically taken off to Westfield London for some late-night dress shopping‚ leaving me at home to feed‚ bathe and put Jack to sleep‚ when I really should have been out killing Jay.
Pathaan would not be pleased that I had left it until Sunday‚ the day before he was due to fly home. He would definitely not be pleased that I had left it late because of a life that he despised me for.
But tonight it would all be over. I would finally have repaid my debt to him and Ghurfat-al-Mudarris.
*
Stephanie woke up unnaturally early for a Sunday‚ and spent most of the morning in the bathroom. Jack was ready in ten minutes flat‚ an hour before we had to leave‚ his hair overly waxed and abnormally styled. I sat down next to him and polished my leather boots.
‘Touch my hair‚’ Jack said. I gently patted it with my hand. ‘It’s so hard and spiky.’
‘You look good‚ kid‚’ I said.
‘What’s that word again?’ Jack asked.
‘Aslamalykum‚’ I enunciated.
‘Aslam….kum?’
‘Perfect!’ I smiled down at him. It was Stephanie’s idea to greet Khala with a Salaam. She wanted to make a good impression. I heard footsteps coming down the stairs. ‘Make sure you tell your Mum how nice she looks.’
‘Oh! Do I have to?’
‘You have to.’
Stephanie stepped into the room and stood nervously in front of us.
‘You look nice‚ Mum‚’ Jack mumbled.
‘Thank you‚ Jack‚’ she said. ‘Imy?’
Through my Khala’s eyes‚ I saw that under her pale blue three-quarter length dress her legs were bare. When she sat‚ the skirt would rise further‚ possibly exposing her knees and thighs. The printed blouse was a little low cut. If she leaned forward‚ her bra would be visible.
I blinked and looked at her through my own eyes.
‘Steph‚’ I said. ‘You look stunning.’
*
The late notice of the Dawat meant that we hadn’t really had a chance to discuss it. I caught Jack’s eye through the rear-view mirror.
‘You alright‚ kid?’
‘I’m hungry‚’ Jack replied. ‘Will she have food?’
I smiled. ‘She’ll have lots of food.’ I turned to Stephanie. ‘How about you‚ Steph? Are you okay?’
‘Honestly… No.’ She placed her hand on mine. ‘But I think I will be.’
I pulled up to the house. Predictably Khala was at the front door‚ waving excitedly and mouthing something that was impossible to hear.
We stepped out of the car. Jack ran down the path in front of us‚ repeatedly shouting ‘Aslam Kum’‚ and then surprised us all by warmly cuddling Khala‚ holding her tightly around the legs. Khala’s smile‚ so wide‚ reminded me of the time when I landed on her doorstep all those years ago. Here I was now‚ introducing her to my fiancé and my son.
Jack detached himself from Khala and made his way into the house.
‘Aslamalykum.’ I kissed Khala on the cheek. ‘This is Stephanie.’
‘Aslamalykum‚’ Stephanie said‚ effortlessly‚ as though she hadn’t been practising. ‘It’s so nice to meet you.’
‘Mashallah.’ Khala placed a hand heavily on her heart as if to stop it from bursting out of her chest.
‘Shall I remove my shoes?’ Stephanie asked‚ as we stepped inside.
‘Oh no‚ Beti‚’ Khala replied. ‘I shampooed the carpets clean last night and they are still a bit wet.’
I laughed. Stephanie sensibly held back.
‘It’s not funny!’ Khala chided. ‘Get inside.’
Khala held Stephanie’s hand and they walked through the narrow hallway. Stephanie looked back at me over her shoulder and flashed me an easy smile as they disappeared out of sight into the living room. I took a breath‚ clearing my mind of everything but now‚ and followed them in.
Stephanie was sitting on the edge of the sofa‚ Khala next to her‚ knees touching‚ still clutching her hand and chatting happily away. Jack was on the other side of the room‚ a fairy cake in one hand and the remote control in the other‚ flipping through the cartoon channels. Making himself at home.
I could smell and almost taste the spread on the dining table before I even set eyes on it. Khala had gone all out‚ a mixture of Indian snacks – fish pakora‚ seekh kebab‚ papadi chaat – and then treats that she presumed Stephanie and Jack would be used to: fairy cakes‚ stuffed garlic mushrooms‚ prawn cocktail and salmon fish cakes. Plates from both cultures‚ mixed in with each other‚ deliberately I’m sure. Khala’s way.
‘Doesn’t it look wonderful‚ Imy?’ Stephanie said.
‘That’s just the starter‚’ Khala said. ‘I have lamb biryani on the stove and shepherd pie in the oven.’
‘You didn’t have to go to so much trouble‚ Kala‚’ Stephanie said‚ missing an H‚ making it sound even sweeter.
‘Astaghfirulah!’ Khala cried. ‘You listen to me‚ young lady. Nobody ever leaves my house hungry. You understand this?’
I pictured a vision of the future. Every Sunday‚ down to Khala’s for lunch. Apart from the last Sunday of the month when Khala would come to ours and innocuously pick holes in Stephanie’s cooking and general housekeeping skills. Christmases and Eid’s and our wedding. Khala taking care of Jack as Stephanie and I went out the odd evening. I could see it so clearly. My heavy heart soared and danced as I looked at the coming together of the three of them‚ knowing that this future could be mine. But it would come at a cost.
‘Imran‚’ Khala said. ‘All this excitement I forgot to tell you.’
‘Yes‚ Khala?’ I said pulling up a chair next to Jack. ‘Tell me what?’
‘This morning‚ I had visitor. Your uncle.’ She beamed. Stephanie looked up at me. I smiled it away. ‘He said he raised you before you came to live with me. We talked for more than one hour. He wanted to hear everything about you.’
‘Khala...’ The smile frozen on my face. ‘What did you tell him?’
‘Strange man. He had so many questions! But as soon as I told him that you and Stef’nie were getting married‚ he left.’
69
Hounslow Police Stat
ion
Two words. No comment.
When Daniel had returned to the interview room‚ this time with his solicitor in tow‚ the SIO and DI knew they had lost him. They put forward the deal and‚ against Daniel’s judgement and burning desire to spill all‚ he had said ‘No comment’ and braced himself for the onslaught. They didn’t get angry‚ as Daniel had expected‚ nor did they look surprised. They looked beaten. Nevertheless‚ they continued with the questioning and each time Daniel would utter ‘No comment’‚ he would follow it with a weak ‘sorry’.
Daniel walked quickly and in the straightest of lines out of the police station. He knew behind him the solicitor‚ Sandy White‚ was keeping pace‚ as his large shadow loomed over him. He’d already made his mind up that once he and White had parted ways‚ he would head straight back into the police station. Ready to talk. Not only about Simon and Anthony and the attack‚ but also how the solicitor had insinuated that his dad wouldn’t be safe if he talked. Daniel would not hold back. Could not. It had gone too far. He would tell the police everything he knew about Dean Kramer‚ Terry Rose and The Second Defence.
‘Okay‚ thanks‚’ Daniel said to White‚ as they stepped outside the police station.
White mumbled something‚ and dialled a number on his phone.
‘I’m going to walk home.’ Daniel stepped away. White placed a hand on his shoulder.
‘It’s done‚’ White said into the phone.
Daniel looked back through the entrance to the police station. The SIO was looking back at him. Daniel smiled weakly at him‚ when really he wanted to run to him.
‘You’re not going home just yet‚’ White said‚ looking out onto the road as a white Range Rover pulled up outside the police station.
Kramer stepped out. Daniel caught a glimpse of another man sitting in the passenger seat. White gently nudged Daniel towards the car.
Kramer waved brightly at Daniel. ‘Alright‚ boy! In you pop.’
Daniel ran through all the possible options in his head. All involved him running and not getting very far. The passenger in the front seat inclined his head just enough for Daniel to recognise that he was once again in the company of Terry Rose. Daniel obediently got into the back seat.
White approached the passenger side window and Rose slid it down.
‘All good?’ Rose asked.
‘For now. The police have nothing.’ White glanced at Daniel in the back before speaking. ‘As long as they keep their mouths closed‚ it’ll stay that way.’
Rose nodded.
‘My advice‚’ White continued. ‘Cut ties.’
Rose closed the window in White’s face and watched him shake his head and walk away.
‘Fuck his advice‚’ Kramer said. ‘They’re good kids.’
‘Where are we going?’ Daniel’s small voice sounded out of place.
‘Do you know what day it is today‚ boy?’ Kramer asked.
‘Sunday?’
Kramer extended his middle finger so that Daniel could see it in the rear-view mirror. He saw the red cross tattoo on Kramer’s finger.
‘St George’s Day‚’ Daniel said.
‘That’s right‚ boy. And tonight we celebrate.’
A series of loud bangs at the window made Daniel jump out of his skin and dive onto his side across the seat. Terrified‚ he looked back up at the window. Anthony was beaming at him‚ Simon behind his shoulder. They bundled into the back seat with Daniel.
‘Happy fucking St George’s Day!’ Anthony screamed‚ shaking Daniel by the shoulders. ‘That was a fucking trip. Double celebration‚ eh lads? I’m ready to party!’
‘You alright‚ Daniel?’ Simon asked‚ in the way that he always did.
‘Yeah. That was close‚ right?’ Daniel smiled. ‘Happy St George’s Day!’
Simon shook hands with Kramer and Rose‚ asserting his position.
‘You did well‚’ Rose said. ‘You all did. I’m proud of you lads.’
Daniel’s smile was practised and he held it easily. It hadn’t crossed his mind that Simon and Anthony would also be questioned. He’d been so close to selling his friends out‚ not knowing that they were so close by.
Kramer started the car and manoeuvred out. Heavy rock from the radio kicked in. Anthony threw shapes to the music. Daniel nodded to the beat‚ aware of Simon glancing his way. He looked out of the window and noticed a girl slowly crossing the road. She stopped in the middle of the road and faced the oncoming Range Rover. Kramer slammed on the brakes with both feet‚ the back end of the car swerved as his tyres screeched to a halt a few feet away from her.
The girl didn’t flinch. She just stared at the screwed up faces staring back at her.
‘Fucking dumb Somali bitch!’ Kramer slid down his window and stuck his head out. ‘Get the fuck out of the way.’
She didn’t move‚ instead she gripped the sides of her hijab and pulled it forward so her dark face disappeared into it and all that they could see were the whites of her eyes. She smiled. A wicked smile lighting up her face from within her hijab.
Then she slowly ran a finger across her throat.
70
Imy
Khala was holding court‚ her voice quick and high and full of excitement. Stephanie‚ laughing‚ was trying to get a word in edgeways. Jack was eating his way through anything sweet. I excused myself and headed upstairs.
I stepped into the bathroom and as soon as the door was closed behind me‚ I scratched and scraped the hell out of my head. First little scratches and then when that itch kept calling‚ longer scratches‚ both hands‚ from the back of my neck through to the top of my head‚ repeating it until strands of my hair and specks of my scalp fell onto the tiles.
Pathaan would have been furious that Jay was still alive. I had felt his impatience and his frustration the last time we had met‚ and his presence at Khala’s house was designed as a warning‚ a motivation.
He knew who I cared for‚ who I loved‚ and he would not think twice‚ would not even blink‚ as a bullet screamed its way out of his gun and into my life.
I had to take Javid Qasim out. I had to do it now and prove my allegiance to The Cause‚ and more importantly prove that I hadn’t failed him.
I looked in the bathroom mirror. My hair stood in different directions. I ran the cold water and filled the sink and dipped my head into it. The cool sensation soothed the abrasions on my scalp. My phone sitting on the edge of the sink vibrated‚ moving itself closer to the edge. I placed a hand on it and lifted my head out of the sink. It was a withheld number. I felt my heart stop. Water dripped from my head‚ down my face and onto my phone as I accepted the call.
‘Hello?’
‘Imy.’
‘Shaz?’ I instantly recognised his voice. My heart started to beat again.
‘Yeah‚’ he said‚ softly.
I should have called him. It should have been me who reached out to him. Apologised for hurting him. I could tell by his voice that he was still feeling it.
‘I’m so sorry‚’ I said‚ matching his tone. ‘I… I’m so sorry. I should never have laid my hands on you.’ I wanted to make it alright. I wanted to erase what I had done and go back to normal. I desperately wanted him to delight in the details of whatever first world problems were bothering him.
‘Have you killed him yet?’ he said.
I gripped the phone as my mind raced. ‘Shaz... Are you able to talk freely?’
I heard him rustling about‚ a muted dialogue exchanged and then he said‚ ‘Yeah.’
‘Are you at home?’ I asked.
‘Yeah.’
‘Is he with you?’
‘Yeah.’ Shaz’s voice cracked. ‘He’s sitting on my bed.’
‘Can I speak to him?’
Silence for a moment. Then Shaz said‚ ‘I am a Kafir.’
‘Shaz…’
‘I am a Kafir and I have brought disgrace to my Deen.’
‘Shaz.’
‘When I di
e‚ I will burn in hellfire for all eternity.’
‘Shaz. Listen to me!’ I could hear Khala at the bottom of the stairs calling my name.
‘I don’t want to die‚ Imy.’
‘Let me speak to him‚’ I said. ‘Pathaan Bhai. Please. Talk to me.’
‘You have to kill him now.’
‘Shaz… Shaz!’ I was talking to dead air.
I raced down the stairs and entered the living room. I picked up my car keys from the coffee table.
‘There you are‚’ Stephanie said‚ her smile waning when she saw my damp hair.
‘I have to go‚’ I said.
‘What’s happened?’
Khala walked into the living room. She balanced three mugs of masala chai and one glass of orange squash on her Princess Diana memorial tray. ‘You spend a long time in the toilet. All okay?’ she said. ‘Don’t worry‚ masala chai will sort out all your tummy problems.’
‘Khala. I have to go.’
‘Silly. You just got here.’
‘Imy had an urgent call from work‚ Khala.’ Stephanie stood up‚ her easy smile back in place as she took the tray from Khala. ‘Here‚ let me.’
Khala‚ disappointed‚ fussed around with the plates‚ not able to say what was on her mind in front of guests. Stephanie followed me into the hallway as I opened the door. I turned to see questions on her lips that I could not answer. The next time I saw her‚ it would all be over.
71
Jay
My Beemer was due to be returned tomorrow. Despite nearly losing my life in it‚ I loved that car. We’d been through a lot and I could not wait to get behind the wheel and cruise until the wheels came off. Windows down as the finest G-Funk era hip-hop spilled out onto the streets of Hounslow.
In my bedroom‚ I was sound-checking a playlist that I’d just finished compiling to mark the return of my car. Cypress Hill had just finished declaring ‘I ain’t going out like that’ and in the small gap before NWA took centre stage‚ I heard somebody pounding on my front door as though they’d been knocking for a while.
I popped my head out of the upstairs bedroom window and saw an irate Zafar looking up at me just as Dr Dre started to impart his street knowledge.
Homegrown Hero Page 29
