Dishonour (16 page)

‘You look beautiful.’ Tariq walked into the room and admired his sister. His eyes though, rested on the swollen lip and the bruised right side of her face. The make-up was heavy and although Laila looked more stunning than he’d ever seen her before, she looked older, as if the years had been added on overnight.

Looking into her eyes he could see the sadness and he felt ashamed. He whispered, not wanting anyone else in the tiny room to hear, ‘It’ll be all right, Laila. You’ll see, I promise. I’ll do everything I can.’

A hint of puzzlement crossed Laila’s face. ‘Tariq, thank you.’

‘What for?’

‘For yesterday. For standing up to uncle.’

Tariq said nothing as his new Auntie frowned at them both, coming closer, wanting to hear anything which was said between them. He drew his eyes from the hostile stare and focused on the heavily embroidered pink shalwar kameez and dupatta his sister was wearing.

A tikka, the traditional gold head chain, lay sparkling in the middle of Laila’s forehead, encrusted with diamonds. Gold and emerald earrings hung from her ears. A matching necklace hung heavy on her neck and a large round nose ring, which was connected to a gold and ruby chain, hung from her nose and across her cheek. Both arms and both feet were adorned with delicate silver and gold bangles.

‘Ready?’ Auntie spoke as she drew down the dupatta to cover Laila’s face.

‘Tariq!’ Laila’s voice verged on the hysterical and although Tariq couldn’t see his sister’s eyes he was certain they were wide open with fear.

‘Shhh Laila, it will be okay. Trust me.’

‘Of course it will,’ the woman snapped. ‘How could it not be? She’s marrying my son. Now let’s get on with this, I don’t want to keep anyone waiting.’

From beneath the long pink dupatta, Laila’s hand reached out and grabbed hold of Tariq’s wrist. Her voice was strained and urgent. ‘His name. Oh my God, I don’t even know my husband’s name.’

The bridal procession marched slightly quicker than Tariq thought was necessary. He could see the old ladies hurrying to keep up with his newly acquired Auntie, who strode as if she was on a bracing country walk rather than a regal marriage parade.

As he followed, the smell of the roast meats hit Tariq’s senses. He felt guilty for feeling hungry when he knew he should be thinking about his sister rather than his stomach. Behind him the sound of drums started up.

They walked into the tattered marquee, which was decorated with red and white flowers as well as several large candles. A sea of bearded white-robed men sat chatting to each other on one side of the tent. On the side the women and children sat, dressed in brightly coloured salwar kameez. At the far end of the marquee there was a makeshift platform covered in petals.

Tariq saw his uncle helping Laila onto the platform. She knelt down unsteadily, her face totally covered. He wished she could see him, just to make eye contact, to let her know he was here for her. He sighed and turned to look for somewhere to sit. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the groom entering, dressed in a silk cream Nehru collar jacket and matching trousers, several garlands of flowers hanging around his neck. Tariq wasn’t able to get a glimpse of his face either as it was covered by a heavy gold tinsel veil hanging from his pleated red turban. The only thing Tariq could do now was watch and hope for the best, hoping he’d come up with a plan to help his sister.

Laila knelt, unable to see anything apart from the chiffon dupatta covering her face. She felt protected from what was going on around her but the sound of clapping told her the man she was about to marry had entered the marquee.

Her heart was racing from the shallow breaths she was having to take. Her stomach tightened, making her feel as if she needed to rush to the bathroom. A moment later she felt someone brush her arm as they sat down next to her.

The temptation to take her dupatta off to stare at him was overwhelming. She’d forgotten what he looked like. The photograph she’d been shown hadn’t been a good one and she’d only looked at it briefly, before pushing the image of his face out of her mind.

The voice of the imam, the man conducting the ceremony, growled out loudly, giving Laila a fright. She jumped. A hand touched her knee. It was him.

The sound of the ceremony began to drown out as Laila became aware only of the person next to her. She could feel him there; almost sense his breathing as he knelt next to her. She closed her eyes which were tired and sore from all her crying. She was about to be married and there was nothing she could do, nothing, apart from hope and pray.

Laila’s dupatta was lifted up. She squeezed her eyes shut, then braved herself to quickly open them, expecting to see the man she’d just married. Laila was surprised however to find herself staring into the steely brown eyes of her mother-in-law, her Auntie. ‘You need to come with me so you can get changed into your next outfit. Then we can get on with the celebrations.’

Laila strained to look past her Auntie, wanting to catch a glimpse of her husband, but all she could see was the back of him, surrounded by the other male guests who were loudly congratulating him. She saw her uncle turn around. Catching his eye he looked away quickly, but not before he’d given her a look of disdain. The next person in the crowd she recognised was Tariq. He smiled and stepped towards her but a hand belonging to their uncle reached out and held him back. Tariq mouthed a sorry as he was led outside to join the festivities with the other men.

As the marquee emptied, Laila looked down at her hand. The large, almost gaudy, gold wedding ring decorated her finger. Twenty diamonds, eighteen emeralds and five tiny sardonyx stones. Made especially for her; made to let her know she was no longer Laila Khan, and from now on her life would never be her own. Still kneeling on the unsteady platform in the scorching heat, Laila bowed her head as her Auntie stood waiting for her sour-faced, feeling totally alone.

‘Thank fuck that’s over with. Can’t get this flipping turban off quick enough.’

Laila stared at her new husband in amazement as he threw off his turban. His northern English accent punctuated the air, not quite fitting with his handsome dark features.

‘You’re …’

‘English? Were you worried? Did you think you were going to be marrying a foreigner? Afraid I’d be one of them ignorant Pakis?’

She was shocked by the way he spoke. She could see the amusement in his eyes, though she didn’t understand how using such a derogatory term was funny in any way. She took in his face as she spoke. ‘No, no, I didn’t know what to expect. I guess I am slightly relieved though.’

Laila watched as her husband’s eyes darkened. He walked towards her taking the ends of her hair in his hands and rubbed it between his fingers. His six foot muscular frame towered over her. His face, no older than thirty, stared down.

‘Why are you relieved Laila? Tell me?’

‘Maybe it’ll be easier. You know, speaking the same language.’

His tone was cold and sinister. ‘So you’re expecting I’ll be wanting to talk to you? And what gave you that idea, beautiful?’

Laila didn’t know what to say. She traced his face with her eyes, looking for something which might let her know how to answer. A grin spread across his face.

‘Don’t look so serious. I’m kidding. This is your wedding day, you should be smiling.’

He placed a kiss on her forehead, then went to walk out of the room. As he did, he pulled Laila to him, put his hands on her face and began squeezing until her face was contorted under the pressure. His eyes stared at her coldly.

‘I know all about you Laila. I’ve heard about you running away. Don’t think for a moment you’re going to try that with me. You’re mine now. My property – and I never did like losing things. Try it and I’ll kill you. Apart from that, I’m sure we’ll get on just fine.’ He let go of Laila’s face, leaving a bright red mark on both her cheeks.

The door was opened and Tariq walked in. He looked at his sister who seemed upset, then at his brother-in-law and froze. He was the man at the house. His uncle’s friend; the one he hadn’t known. And the man who’d taken delight in throwing the acid at Ray-Ray.

Tariq looked at Laila. He could see she was wondering why he hadn’t introduced himself. Gathering himself, he reached out to shake hands with his new brother-in-law, but only a hostile stare was returned. Struggling, Tariq tried to act as natural as possible.

‘We … we … haven’t been introduced. I’m Tariq, Laila’s brother.’

‘Gupta. Baz Gupta.’

Tariq narrowed his eyes. The man sounded like a fool. Hell, he sounded like he was auditioning for a Pakistani version of
James Bond
, but he wasn’t
just
a fool, he was a dangerous one. ‘You wouldn’t mind if I had a word with my sister? In private.’

‘She’s all yours but make the most of it, because she’ll be all mine tonight.’ Baz walked out of the room whistling, leaving Laila and Tariq to stare at one another.

Half an hour later, Tariq stood face to face with Baz in the privacy of a dark corridor. ‘You better look after my sister. I’m warning you.’

Baz laughed, sneering at Tariq. ‘Save the brotherly heroics for someone who cares. I’ll treat her the way she deserves and if she gets out of line, I’ll put her in her place. I thought you would’ve known that by now. Funny how you didn’t mention we’d already met in front of Laila.’

Tariq slammed Baz against the wall, who grinned at him nastily. ‘Tut, tut, Tariq. You can serve time for putting your hands on a serving police officer.’

Tariq looked at Baz in amazement.

‘That’s right. I’m a copper. West Yorkshire Police. Bradford South, to be correct. You need to keep on the right side of me Tariq. You don’t want me to start sending my officers to come and knock on your door, asking questions about what happened to poor Raymond, do you?’

Stunned, Tariq let go of Baz, who brushed down his top.

‘Don’t look so shocked. What? What’s the matter Tariq?’

‘But it wasn’t me. It was you!’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about Tariq; surely you can’t be suggesting it was a decorated police detective who harmed that young lad?’ Baz winked, adding, ‘I think it’ll be in your best interest to tell your sister to be a good wife, don’t you?’

‘And if I don’t?’

‘Then you’d be an idiot.’ Baz tapped Tariq on the cheek. ‘All you need to do is to make sure she gets rid of any ideas you’re going to help her. She needs to know you’re on my side Tariq. Then you, her, and I won’t have any problems, will we?’

Baz stepped away as he began to open the bedroom door. He paused and looked back at a crestfallen Tariq. ‘You can listen if you like. They say virgins scream louder than whores.’

Laila stood in the middle of the room with only a small white pair of knickers on. Although it was a sweltering night, she was shivering. He mother-in-law scattered the last rose petals onto the bed as Baz walked into the room.

‘I’ll leave you two together. If she’s difficult, give her this.’ Laila watched as Baz’s mother passed him a glass of milk. He nodded, placing it on the side and waiting for his mother to leave the room.

Baz walked across to Laila. It was dark apart from the candle flickering momentarily.

‘Put your arms down.’ Baz barked out his order as Laila stood covering her breasts. Slowly and timidly she dropped her arms as Baz stood watching her. He licked his lips and could feel the swell of his erection.

She might be trouble but she was certainly beautiful. Smooth, delicate brown skin. Curves in all the right places, and soft pert breasts. He walked towards her and he could see her trembling.

‘You afraid of me?’ Baz laughed as he said it. He pulled her towards him and pushed his hand roughly down her pants. He started to groan and at the same time he heard Laila whimpering. He felt a hard push in his chest as Laila struck him in panic.

‘No, please, get off me. Don’t touch me.’

She ran towards the door but she didn’t get far before she was being dragged back. Frightened, she clawed out at Baz, feeling her nails scratching his body.

‘Oh you like to play games do you? Like it rough? If you want rough, I’ll show you rough.’

He grabbed her hair, pulling her down on the floor with him. He pushed his lips hard onto her mouth, biting down on her already bruised lips, and slammed her arms down above her head to stop her trying to fend him off.

Alarm filled Laila’s mind. She kicked out, trying to push Baz away, but all she felt was him pressing harder on her body. She kicked out again, but this time it had an effect as Baz fell backwards, banging his head on the wooden chest of drawers. His face turned into a sneer as he rubbed his head. ‘Bitch.’ Leaping up he grabbed her arm, twisting it behind her back till she cried out. With the other hand, Baz snatched the glass of milk left by his mother from the top of the locker. He yanked on Laila’s arm, sitting her up.

‘Drink it. Drink it.’ Incensed, Baz pushed the glass onto Laila’s lips. The milk turned pink from the blood from her lip. ‘I said, drink.’

Laila opened her mouth, afraid the glass would break on her face. The milk spilt down the sides of her mouth as she started to choke, then her nose was pinched closed by Baz. She couldn’t breathe and she began to bang on the floor, trying to communicate with Baz to stop. ‘Swallow, have you swallowed?’ Terrified, Laila managed to nod.

Baz let go. The minute he did, Laila fell forward, coughing and struggling to take a breath. She tried to stand, pulling herself up by the bed post. When she got to her feet, she started to feel dizzy. The room began to spin. Holding on to the side of the bed for support, Laila tried to walk, but her knees gave way below her. She dropped to the floor. There was a sense she’d hurt herself, but the sensation in her leg was so strange she wasn’t quite sure if she had or not.

Her mind was hazy, but clear enough to know whatever was in the milk had caused this to happen to her. Laila tried to crawl along the floor, but found she couldn’t move. She felt Baz’s hands start to move up and down her body, creeping over her skin like a thousand spiders. She tried to resist but she couldn’t make her limbs work, she couldn’t even move her head. She tried to speak but her mouth wouldn’t move either. She felt something heavy on top of her, then a burning pain between her legs before she passed out.