Run, Mummy, Run (21 page)

Aisha waited while her mother slipped off her coat and then handed it to her without meeting her eyes. Her parents perched side by side on the sofa while Aisha hung her mother’s coat on the hall stand and then returned to sit opposite them in the armchair. James and Sarah hovered, uncertain, and then came and sat on the floor beside her feet. There was another uncomfortable silence as Aisha looked at her mother and she in turn looked at the children. Her father sat very still, his gaze concentrated on the floor.

‘Thank you for coming,’ Aisha said at last. ‘I’m sorry it’s been so long.’ She paused. Her father shifted position, crossing one leg over the other, while her mother looked at the children.

‘So, how are you both?’ she tried again. ‘Keeping well, I hope?’ She knew it sounded ridiculous after all this time but what else could she say?

Her father looked up sharply. ‘How are we? Aisha, how do you think we are? You shut us out of your lives for years and then suddenly phone with all this.’ He waved his arm as though encompassing all the problems she’d ever had.

‘I should think you’re pretty angry,’ she said. ‘I would be. But if it’s any consolation, things haven’t exactly been good here either.’

Her father shot her a warning glance, reminding her he was her father and expected respect. ‘I’m not talking about now,’ he said. ‘I realize you’ve suffered a dreadful bereavement, and I’m truly sorry. But all this time, Aisha. Don’t you think you owe us an explanation, if not an apology? After all we’ve done for you. How could you treat us so cruelly?’

She looked at him carefully.
Cruelly
, now there was a word she understood and knew a lot about. More than either of her parents could ever begin to imagine. She knew she should open up and explain, but not now. She hadn’t the strength now and wouldn’t know where to begin.

‘I really don’t know how I treated you so badly,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m sorry.’ And she was sorry. Sorry she’d hurt them, sorry she’d phoned and got them involved, sorry she’d met Mark, and sorry she’d ever been born. ‘Sorry!’ she said again with more force than she should.

Her mother began to cry and her father looked at her accusingly. ‘Now see what you’ve done.’ He put an arm around his wife and comforted her while Sarah and James watched them, intrigued. They’d never seen a man comforting his wife before; hitting, shouting, yes, but not actually trying to make her feel better. Aisha saw the look on their faces and could have wept.

‘I’m sorry, Mum,’ she said more gently. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you.’ She wanted to go over and hug her parents but she didn’t think she had the right to, not after all these years and the way she’d behaved.

After a few moments her mother took a lace handkerchief from the waistband of her sari, and drying her eyes, looked at Aisha. ‘We’ve come here to help, love,’ she said gently. ‘Not to be angry with you. I’ve brought you and the children something to eat. It’s not much, but it’s all I had ready.’

‘Thank you, Mum,’ Aisha said quietly. ‘That was kind of you.’

She and the children watched as her mother reached down into the shopping bag at her feet, and unzipping it, took out two polythene containers and a glass bottle with a screw top. ‘It’s the
dhal
you used to like, but it’s not so spicy. Your father doesn’t like it too hot now. And a
chappati
– I made them last night – and some mango squash. It’s all I had ready. Would the children like some?’

Aisha looked at her mother as she meekly offered up the food she used to lovingly prepare for her as a child. Like many mothers, food and love were inextricably linked. The years fell away and Aisha remembered her parents’ visit to the hospital when Sarah had been born, and the food she’d brought with her then in that same shopping bag. She remembered how proud and excited they’d been and how much they were looking forward to being grandparents and idolizing their grandchildren. But that had never happened and it was her fault.

‘Thank you, Mum,’ Aisha said, and touched Sarah’s shoulder, who stood and went over to her grandmother.

‘Thank you, Gran,’ Sarah said smiling and took the boxes. James joined her and they went through to the kitchen.

‘Will she be able to reach the bowls and glasses?’ her mother asked.

Aisha nodded. They heard Sarah open a kitchen cupboard and take out the crockery, followed by Sarah saying how nice the food was and James agreeing. Aisha looked at her mother and could see how pleased she was. Her father seemed to have softened a little too, she thought. The three of them were quiet; it was so difficult to know what to say. Then her mother broke the silence, and turning to her husband she said quietly, ‘Please give her the money, Ranjith.’

Aisha watched as her father reached into his inside jacket pocket and took out his wallet; it was black leather with his initials in gold. Aisha remembered her mother giving it to him for his sixtieth birthday years ago. Opening the wallet, he stood and came towards her. ‘Here is a hundred pounds, Aisha, to see you through.’ He held out the twenty-pound notes.

Aisha stared. She’d never seen so much money, not for a long while. ‘I don’t need all that,’ she said. ‘Ten or twenty pounds will be plenty.’

‘Nonsense,’ her mother said kindly. ‘That goes nowhere nowadays. Take it, Aisha and let us know if you need any more.’

Her father nodded and pushed the money towards her. ‘It will be months before things are sorted out. You can’t live on nothing.’ Aisha stared at him still shocked, for that was exactly what they had been doing – living on nothing.

He placed the notes in her hand. ‘Thank you,’ she said quietly. ‘I’ll pay you back as soon as I can.’

‘Don’t worry about that now,’ he said and returned to sit beside her mother.

Aisha looked at the two of them sitting side by side on the sofa, loving, supportive and respectful of each other, even after a lifetime of being married.
That’s how it should have been for me
, she thought bitterly and her bottom lip trembled and her head throbbed.

‘Do you want to talk about it?’ her mother suddenly asked, almost as if she suspected some of what had been going on.

Aisha shook her head and felt her eyes mist. ‘No, Mum, not yet.’

‘Well, when you do, you know where we are,’ she said tenderly. ‘Is there anything else you need? How will you manage – organizing the funeral and everything? There’s so much to do.’

Aisha shrugged, she hadn’t really thought that far ahead. She’d been too worried about trying to find some money so they could eat to think about the funeral. Sarah’s voice called from the kitchen, ‘Mum! Can we have seconds?’

‘Yes, of course. Have as much as you want,’ Aisha said.

Her mother smiled, pleased that they were enjoying her cooking as Aisha had done. Then glancing at her husband she sat forward earnestly. ‘Aisha, we won’t stay long now but I was wondering … would it help if Sarah and James came back with us and stayed for a few days? It would be easier for you and we would like it so much, wouldn’t we?’ She looked at her husband for confirmation.

Her father nodded. ‘I’d be pleased to have them,’ he said. Then, looking straight at Aisha: ‘But can you not tell me why you haven’t let us see them before? And why you never returned our calls? And the accident? You’ve said nothing about that. What happened and where?’

‘It was on the motorway,’ she began and stopped. She met his gaze and the years rolled back. Suddenly she was a little girl again, vulnerable but with her father to protect her. It took all her self-control not to tell him but she feared the outcome. For seated here with her parents and with the children’s chatter coming from the kitchen, a normality had returned as it had done briefly in the car. It was impossible to imagine, let alone explain how she had got into the position she had, and then done what she had done. ‘One day,’ she said softly. ‘But I can’t tell you now.’

He nodded slowly. ‘You are a grown woman, Aisha. I must accept that, although I won’t pretend we haven’t been hurt.’

‘I know, Dad, believe me I know. We’ve all been hurt in this.’

She stood and wiping the back of her hand over her eyes went over and kissed them both, then went through to the kitchen where the children had just finished eating. ‘Gran has asked if you would like to go and stay with her and Grandpa for a few days?’ she said.

Sarah and James looked at her wide-eyed and amazed – the invitation which was the norm for many children was a first for them.

‘What? Sleep there with my teddy bear?’ James asked. ‘Yes, if you’d like to? Just for a few days.’ ‘Will you be all right alone?’ Sarah asked, as always concerned for her mother.

‘Yes, things are different now. I’ll be fine, and we can phone each other every day.’

They scrambled down from the breakfast stools and went through to the lounge. ‘I’m coming to stay with you, Grandpa.’ James said squeezing himself between his grandparents on the sofa.

Sarah, more reserved, hung back. ‘Are you sure you’ll be all right alone?’ she whispered to her mother.

‘Yes, I’m sure. Now you go and talk to your grandma while I go upstairs and pack a bag for you and James.’ Finally reassured, Sarah sat on the sofa, and as Aisha left the lounge she heard her mother asking Sarah if she enjoyed school and Sarah saying she did.

Upstairs, Aisha went to the cupboard on the landing where she knew there was an old holdall that had once been Mark’s. Taking it out she unzipped it and going through to Sarah’s room lay it on her bed. She opened the door to the built-in wardrobe and began searching through. James’s clothes were in here too as there wasn’t any furniture in his room except for the bed. But as she looked she realized just how few clothes the children owned. Apart from their school uniforms, which had had first call on any money, and the clothes they were wearing now, there wasn’t much else. She found a dress for Sarah that still fitted, a pair of joggers with a top for James, and a few pairs of pants and socks for each of them. Folding these into the holdall she picked up the children’s nightwear from Sarah’s bed and put that in too. Then James’s teddy and Sarah’s rag doll which were in the bed. Aisha went through to the bathroom, and taking their toothbrushes and face flannels returned and tucked them into the side compartment of the bag so they wouldn’t dampen the clothes. Zipping up the holdall she carried it downstairs, embarrassed that her parents would shortly be unpacking it and seeing the contents. Leaving the bag in the hall she went through to the lounge where Sarah and James were now chatting easily with her parents. If her parents wondered why their grandchildren weren’t more upset at having just lost their father they didn’t say, and it crossed Aisha’s mind again that possibly they had some idea of what had been going on in their short lives.

‘I’ve packed what they have,’ Aisha said to her mother, ‘but I’m afraid there isn’t much. The rest is in the wash,’ she lied. ‘If I give you some of this money Dad gave me, could you buy them another outfit each, please?’

She put her hand into her cardigan pocket ready to draw out the notes but her mother said, ‘Keep that, we’ll take care of some new clothes. It’ll be a nice treat to take them shopping, won’t it Ranjith?’ Her father nodded.

‘What about school on Monday?’ her mother now asked. ‘Shall I phone the school and tell them what’s happened and that the children won’t be going for a while?’

‘Yes,’ Aisha said, again having not thought that far ahead. ‘That’s probably what we should do.’ She felt relief that finally someone else was in control and knew what to do. ‘Thanks, Mum. That would be very helpful.’

‘We won’t have another accident, will we?’ James suddenly asked, concerned.

‘No,’ her father said, patting his shoulder reassuringly. ‘I’m a very careful driver. I’ve been driving since I was seventeen and I’ve never had an accident.’

‘Cor, that’s a long time,’ James said and his grandfather smiled.

Her parents stood and the children did likewise; they all went into the hall. Aisha hugged the children, and Sarah asked again: ‘You will be OK without us, Mummy?’

‘Yes, I will, don’t worry. I’ve lots to do, and I’ll phone you every day. It’ll be like a little holiday for you.’ But as soon as she’d said it she knew the comparison was futile, for the children had never been on holiday – something else they’d been denied.

Aisha gave the children a final kiss and hug each and then hugged and kissed her parents. They didn’t resist. Sarah took hold of her grandma’s hand, while James stood proudly beside his grandfather. They went out the front door and Aisha went with them and then waited on the pavement as her mother settled the children under their seat belts in the rear of the car, and her father put their bag in the boot. Her heart ached at the sight of her parents finally allowed to be grandparents – something they should have been doing for years. As her mother straightened, Aisha threw her arms around her. ‘I love you,’ she said. ‘I’ve always loved you.’

‘We love you too, darling, take care and look after yourself. We’ll speak soon.’

Aisha stayed on the pavement and waved until the car was out of sight. Then she returned up the path and into the house where she shut and bolted the front door. How quiet and lonely the house now seemed without Sarah and James. She wandered around the downstairs unsure of what she should be doing, or feeling, and then sat in the armchair and rested her head back. Thoughts came and went as she stared into space and the wintry light of afternoon slowly faded into dark. Just twenty-four hours before she’d fled this room in fear of her life. And although she’d run in terror, aware of what Mark would do if he caught her, her conscience had been clear. Now she carried a weight so heavy that if she didn’t tell someone soon it would very likely destroy her and drive her mad with guilt.

A
isha woke to the sound of knocking followed by the ring of a bell. It was growing louder, more insistent.
Bang. Bang. Ring. Ring.
What a noise, she thought as she surfaced, it was enough to wake the dead. Her eyes opened. The room was now lit by the morning sun and she realized that someone was at the door, calling through the letterbox. ‘Mrs Williams? Hello? Are you in there? It’s Inspector Calder, Stan Calder. Police.’

Aisha jolted forwards out of the chair, across the lounge and down the hall. Sliding the bolts, she flung open the front door and stared at the two of them. Dishevelled and disorientated from sleep, panic gripped her. ‘What’s the matter? The children? They’re not hurt?’

‘No,’ the inspector said. ‘That’s not why we’re here. I’m sure they’re fine.’ Relief flooded through her. ‘I’m sorry we frightened you,’ he said, ‘but we have a few questions about the accident. This is my colleague, WPC Lewis. May we come in?’

‘Oh yes, yes of course, come in,’ Aisha flustered. ‘The children are staying with my parents, I thought something had happened to them.’

Leaving the inspector and his WPC to close the door, Aisha stumbled back down the hall and into the lounge, dizzy from waking so suddenly and then standing too quickly. She returned to the chair. ‘I’m sorry. I must have dropped off. I haven’t been sleeping. Do you have the time?’

WPC Lewis looked at her watch. ‘It’s ten thirty. Are you all right, Mrs Williams?’ she asked, concerned. ‘Is there anything I can get you? You shouldn’t really be alone at a time like this.’

‘No, I’m fine, really,’ she said. ‘What was it you wanted?’

‘Just a few points to clarify. It’s nothing to worry about.’

As they sat on the sofa Aisha saw them glance around the room, taking it all in. She felt rough – all night sitting in the armchair, drifting in and out of consciousness, you could hardly call it sleep. And the nightmares that had plagued her while she slept and had continued each time she awoke: the shadow, the familiar outline of Mark, accompanied by his voice. She could almost have believed he was there, accusing her, like a revenging ghost.

‘It won’t take long,’ the inspector said. ‘It’s more a formality.’

Aisha thought there was now a certain formality in his manner, compared to the last time she’d seen him – at the police station when she’d made a statement after the accident and he’d been so kind and thoughtful. When had that been? she wondered. Yesterday or the day before? She really didn’t know; she was losing track of time, with no sleep and all the worry.

The inspector cleared his throat and leant slightly forwards on the sofa. Aisha looked at him, and tried to focus and understand what he was saying. ‘Mrs Williams, there are a few points in your statement I need to clarify, if you don’t mind. You said it was the first time in years you had driven. Could you tell me how long exactly?’

Why did he want to know that? She thought, immediately going on guard. And what was the right answer? She’d had plenty of practice in the past trying to find the right answer, but still hadn’t perfected it. ‘Five or six years, I think,’ she said. ‘We sold my car when the children were little. Mark said we didn’t need it.’
Be careful
, she warned herself, and tried to clear her head. ‘We didn’t need a second car,’ she said evenly. ‘Living so close to the shops and tube, there was no point. Why? Is there a problem?’

‘No, just clarification.’ He nodded and the WPC wrote on the pad she had opened on the arm of the chair. ‘And your husband wanted to go with you on your first outing to make sure you were safe?’

‘Yes, that’s correct. Mark thought it would give me confidence if I knew he was following. He also wanted to try out his new bike.’

‘Not the best choice of evenings,’ the inspector said dryly. ‘The road conditions were atrocious. We had three separate RTAs on the M25 that night.’

She wasn’t sure if it was a statement or a question but the inspector appeared to be waiting for her reply. ‘I know,’ she agreed and shifted in the chair. ‘I was worried before we left. I said we should wait. The weather might have been better over the weekend.’

She stopped and glanced at the WPC, who had her eyes down and was still writing. Then she looked again at the inspector who was looking at her as though expecting her to say something else, but what? More detail? She didn’t know. She wasn’t very good at lying, she’d never perfected the art; unlike Mark.

‘I should have insisted we waited,’ she added. ‘I knew I would remember how to drive. You don’t forget that skill in five years, but Mark hadn’t been on a motorbike in over twenty years. I should have stopped him and refused to go.’ She tried to read the inspector’s expression but it was impossible.

‘I know how painful this is,’ he said, lowering his voice respectfully. ‘Try to remember it
was
an accident. We won’t keep you much longer.’ He paused again but clearly hadn’t finished yet. She shifted again in the chair and tried to concentrate. ‘Mrs Williams, could you explain exactly what happened in the moments leading up to the accident? I know you covered it in your statement, but I’m trying to get a more detailed picture.’

Aisha felt a little nerve start to twitch in her neck. ‘I’ll try,’ she said, ‘but it’s all a blur … it was dark and it all happened so quickly. I remember seeing Mark in the wing mirror, he was travelling a few cars behind me, three, I think. The car in front of me slowed to about fifty and I saw a space in the middle lane so I indicated and pulled out. Mark must have been trying to overtake at the same time and …’ She stopped and in the silence she heard the horrendous crunch of metal and splintering glass and felt the jolt as the car wheels went over the bike, just as it had done that night.

‘I’m sorry, Inspector, that’s all I can remember,’ she said.

The inspector nodded sympathetically. ‘Thank you. That’s more or less what the other witnesses said. And the car was owned and maintained by your husband?’

‘Yes, as far as I know.’

‘We’re having the car and the bike checked by forensics for any sign of faulty brakes and steering. Another formality, I’m not expecting to find anything.’

No, you won’t find anything wrong with the car or bike
, Aisha thought,
although wouldn’t it be wonderful if you did – proof that it wasn’t my fault after all!
The inspector had stopped talking now and was looking at her. She wondered if she was supposed to add anything, but couldn’t think what, so she just nodded.

‘Well, that’s it then, Mrs Williams,’ he said. ‘Thank you. I’m sorry to have had to call on you at this time. I can file my report now.’

Aisha didn’t think she’d added much beyond what she’d said in her original statement but he was standing now ready to go. ‘We’ve notified your husband’s parents,’ he said, ‘as you asked us. ‘Is there anyone else who should be informed?’

Aisha thought. ‘His work, I suppose.’

‘We’ll see to it first thing on Monday. Anyone else?’

‘I don’t think so.’ In truth she’d no idea who Mark knew or anything about his life outside the house. His life had always been separate from hers and the children’s so she didn’t know who should be informed he was dead. But she could hardly admit that to the inspector.

‘We’ll leave you to it then.’ The WPC also stood, closing her notepad. ‘Thank you for your time, Mrs Williams.’

The inspector nodded and the two of them began towards the hall. But as they passed the bureau on the way out of the lounge the inspector paused and looked at the photograph. ‘Is this Mark?’ he said, picking it up.

‘Yes. It was taken soon after we met.’ Aisha looked at the photograph he now held: her and Mark seated side by side on the bench beneath the oak tree. ‘Mark stopped a passer-by and asked if he’d mind taking our photograph,’ she said quietly. ‘We were so much in love then, Inspector, I thought it would last forever.’

The inspector looked at her, his grey eyes reflecting empathy. ‘I lost my own dear wife last year, after nearly thirty years of marriage. The hurt fades, but it never completely disappears. At least your children are safe.’

‘Yes, thank God they are. I’d die if anything happened to them.’

‘One last thing,’ the inspector said, returning the photograph to the bureau. ‘I know it sounds trivial, but I will need to see your driving licence and the car’s insurance at some point. If you have them to hand, I can take them with me now if that’s easiest.’

Aisha stared at him. ‘I’ve no idea where they are, Inspector. My husband looked after all the paperwork.’

‘Don’t worry. You can put them in the post, save you a trip to the station.’ He nodded a goodbye and continued into the hall where the WPC was waiting. Aisha followed them to the front door. ‘Thank you for your time,’ he said again. ‘Look after yourself. I’ll be in touch.’

She smiled weakly and watched them go; then closed the door and drew the bolts. She stood in the hall, her mind racing. Her driving licence? The car’s insurance? Where were they? She didn’t have a clue. She hadn’t seen her driving licence since she’d moved in, and she’d never seen Mark’s car insurance – there’d been no need as she never drove the car. And a familiar and threatening voice returned – the one that had told her not to turn on the heating and had haunted her during the night:
Now you’ve done it. You weren’t insured to drive my car. They’ll know you took it without permission and that’ll be the end of you and your story!

She spun round to confront him but the space behind was empty. There was only one thing to do, she thought, find the insurance and prove him wrong.