The Wedding Countdown (12 page)

Wish’s eyes don’t leave the road but a muscle twitches in his cheek.

‘Maybe she thinks he’s worth it?’

‘But at what cost, Wish? What’s going to happen to everyone else in that family? Won’t they miss her? Won’t she miss them? Or supposing the guy’s family aren’t thrilled about their son getting together with Aisha and kick him out? Won’t his family miss him? And won’t he miss them? None of their
Eids will ever be the same again. And since we are on the topic of family get-togethers, what about the funerals and supposing their favourite auntie-
ji
dies?’

‘Mills,’ Wish says gently, ‘stop panicking. And stop chewing your nails. Do you think Kate Adie chews her nails?’

Probably not but she doesn’t have Fizz or Auntie Bee to contend with, does she? Still, I loathe my nail-biting habit and so I sit on my hands to prevent further nibbling. I bet Minty Vane has perfect nails. She probably pops out to have a manicure at least once a day.

Note to self: find a nail bar and get false nails/extensions. Soon.

‘Anyway,’ Wish continues, ‘your family isn’t the Khans, Mills. They’re not about to send a hit squad around to sort your brother out.’

‘You’re right. Daddy-
ji
will come round eventually but knowing he’s so upset is hideous. Roma says the only way to make things better is for me to meet that elusive perfect partner and take the heat off.’

‘Mr One Hundred Percent Pakistani Barrister?’

‘Nothing less will do.’

Vrooom! The car suddenly surges forward. With a squeal I clutch at the dashboard.

‘Sorry,’ Wish says. ‘My foot touched the gas. I forgot I was on cruise control.’

My heart is pogoing in my chest. For a hideous moment I’d thought we were about to become very closely acquainted with the car in front. I never thought my big mouth could kill me.

‘That was really tactless.’ I hang my head. ‘I forgot about your family.’

‘Lucky you,’ he says. ‘Don’t look so worried. I’ve had twenty-six years to get my head around the fact I don’t quite fit in.’

‘Was it really hard?’ I ask. ‘As a kid, I mean?’

He shrugs. ‘I guess I just got used to it. How much do kids question things anyway? Like I said, my parents have no problems with making their marriage a success, but sometimes it’s hard having a foot in both camps?’

‘But it’s like that for all of us. We’re all stuck between two worlds, home here and home Pakistan,’ I point out. ‘Who do we please? Who do we listen to? Parents? Friends? The news? I’ve been known to pack a bag with going-out clothes because Dad’s insisted I wear my
shalwar kameezes
and, here’s a top Mills Ali secret, I once spoke to a boy in public and pretended to be my cousin Sanaubar!’

Wish laughs. ‘Shocking! Call the
izzat
police.’

‘My sister Fizz must spend half her life in the public ladies trying to squeeze into her drainpipes and put her slap on. And my Auntie Bee swears she once spotted her doing a Wonder Woman behind the bushes,’ I add, warming to my theme. ‘So I do know!’

He shakes his glossy head. ‘It’s nothing like the same. My Pakistani relatives refused to acknowledge me and my brother while my English relatives totally overcompensated by saying I was a Brit through and through just like Gramps, even though I’m obviously not and I don’t even want to be. I’m proud of my heritage, I’m proud to be British
and
I’m proud to be a Pakistani but as far as my dad’s family’s concerned I’m not a Pakistani. I’m some kind of mistake they’d rather forget. When people in London look at me,’ he continues, ‘what do you really think they see?’

Sex on a stick?

‘They see an Asian guy,’ Wish says. ‘And if I’m on the tube with a rucksack

they see a suicide bomber. Yes, they do!’ He insists when I protest. ‘And who can blame them? You’ve seen all the negative portrayals of Muslims in the media.’

I nod. Islamophobia is an emotive topic.

‘But when Asians look at me they see someone who isn’t quite right, someone who isn’t like them. Not one hundred percent Pakistani.’

‘I didn’t mean–’

‘I know you didn’t mean anything. No one ever does.’

He sighs and I feel awful.

‘But what do you think it feels like for us mixed-race kids sometimes?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Bloody impossible, but the point is I wouldn’t swap it. I’ve had the

best upbringing and the greatest parents possible, so maybe I’ve had the best of both worlds? I’m totally at ease with who, with what, I am. So take that look off

your face, Mills, I’m not offended.’ He focuses his full attention on the endless tarmac. ‘Sometimes things happen to remind you of the tough bits, of the differences rather than the similarities. Sometimes you want… you want stuff you know you can never have.’

The atmosphere in the car swells and is so heavy I can almost see it pressing down on us. Then his mobile call-tone blasts out. I peer into the recess by the gearstick.
Minty Mob
. Without missing a beat, Wish changes lanes and pops his Bluetooth headset on.

‘Hey babe!’ he says brightly, and pop, the atmosphere vanishes. ‘No, another journalist.’ His eyes meet mine and he rolls them theatrically. ‘Yes, it’s a woman. She’s new. Mills Ali?’

I sit up a bit straighter and suck my stomach in.

‘Yeah, the supermarket dating girl,’ says Wish cheerfully.

Ouch. Coming back to earth with a bump really hurts.

‘I haven’t forgotten. I’ll be there. OK? Got to go, our exit’s just ahead.’ He checks the mirrors and the car hurtles across three lanes, making the turn-off by metres.

My life flashes before my eyes again. God, it’s really dull; I must do something exciting soon.

Wish flips his phone shut. ‘That was Minty.’

He’s smiling now. A two-minute conversation with a leggy blonde model has cheered him up, whereas a sixty-minute journey with
moi
made him seriously miserable. Go figure.

I stare out of the window and watch the suburbs turn into the inner city, as minute by minute we get deeper into Southampton. Big detached houses with leafy gardens blend into semis and then stretch into rows of terraces, which reach for miles.

‘Right,’ Wish says eventually, dropping the car down a gear and touching the brakes. ‘53 Shakespeare Mews; should be somewhere along here.’

We are in an unremarkable street in an unremarkable part of the city. A mother with Vicky Pollard hair, dragging a toddler with one hand and smoking with the other passes a blank-eyed stare over us. A dustbin spews its contents onto a pavement while a dog picks over a chicken carcass.

‘Nice area,’ remarks Wish wryly. ‘And this is supposed to be a safe house?’

‘That’s definitely number fifty-three.’ I check the details that Nina gave me and look across the dull brick house, all peeling paintwork and parched flowers. A nicotine-yellow net curtain twitches in the bay window. ‘I think that’s Aisha. She’s seen us.’

Suddenly this becomes real. Not an exciting day out with Wish or my big chance to prove myself to Nina and the world at large that I’m a budding journalist. There’s a girl behind that curtain, a scared and frightened girl with bruises and a tear-stained face. A girl who’s risked her life and given everything for the man she loves and who is counting on me to do justice to her story. I clasp my notebook tightly and my knuckles glow like chalk through the skin.

Wish leans across and touches my arm. ‘You can do it.’

‘Can I?’

‘Of course you can. I can’t think of anyone better.’

‘Really?’

‘Really,’ says Wish. ‘Now come on, you’ve got a job to do.’

And he’s right. I have.

Inside the safe house the air is thick and still. Gloom pools across the lurid carpet and dust motes twirl through bars of sunlight caught between heavy curtains. The draylon sofa prickles my bare legs; the coffee the WPC made me is filmy with skin. A hidden clock ticks away the minutes as Aisha Khan struggles to find the right words.

‘Sorry,’ Aisha’s voice is tissue-paper fragile. ‘I’m not telling this right, am I?’

‘You’re doing a great job, Aisha,’ I say. ‘It can’t be easy to talk about this.’

A car backfires and Aisha jumps.

‘I keep thinking it’s my brothers, Hassan and Mushtaq,’ she says. ‘You’ve no idea what they’d do if they found me. Hassan always said he’d kill anyone who threatened the family’s
izzat
rather than suffer the shame, and believe me I’ve shamed them now.’

My eyes meet Wish’s and he shakes his head. From the way Aisha jumps every time a car door slams or voices are raised in the street we can guess exactly what her brothers would do.

‘So why get involved with a
gora
boy if you knew how your family would react?’ I ask, knowing this question will be on the lips of all my readers.

Aisha says, ‘You’ve never been in love.’

It’s not a question.

‘You know how it is,’ I shrug. ‘My parents have found a cousin.’

‘Yeah, mine too,’ Aisha laughs bitterly. ‘The
shaadi
’s all planned in good old Pakistan. Did you know that the average cost of a wedding is over thirty thousand pounds? And I’ve wasted every penny. No wonder they want to kill me.’

‘So why do it?’

‘Because I fell in love with Jake,’ Aisha says simply. ‘And I can’t live without him. If you’d ever been in love you wouldn’t need to ask.’

Ouch.

‘I appreciate you love him, Aisha, but what about your parents? How do you feel about them?’

‘I love them, of course I do, I really love them but… I just couldn’t do what they wanted. I couldn’t marry someone I don’t love.’ Her eyes fill and she wipes them with the sleeve of her hoodie. ‘Even for family honour, I couldn’t do that. I know I’ve ruined their lives, I know that I’ve shamed them, but I just couldn’t give Jake up!’ She’s weeping in earnest now, big ploppy tears that roll down her cheeks and splash onto the shabby carpet.

‘Aisha, please don’t cry.’

‘Do you think I’m wrong? Do you think I should have forgotten about my A-levels, about going to medical school and about the man I love to marry some total stranger in Pakistan just because it’s what my parents want? I’m not from Pakistan! I’m from Southall!’

Sheesh!
I’m the last person who should offer advice.

‘Aisha, it’s not my job to pass judgment: I’m just here to help tell your story. I may not have been in love but I hope one day,
insha’Allah
, I’ll find a man who is as special as your Jake.’

‘He is special.’ She takes a shaky breath. ‘He really is.’

‘I can tell,’ I say. ‘And I totally understand the pain of trying to make your own decisions
and
please your parents. Off the record I can’t tell you not to follow your heart but please don’t forget the good things about your family too. You told me there’s one brother you are really close to?’

She nods. ‘Zain. He’s not like the others.’

‘Could you maybe call him? Just to let him know you’re safe?’

‘Maybe, but I can never see them again, not if I want to keep safe. Girls like us don’t really have choices, do we? Everything we do involves sacrificing something else precious and making compromises and I’ve had enough.’

For a second my thoughts had drifted from Aisha to the tangled web I’ve been busily weaving for myself. I’m uneasy about Nina’s dating features and even uneasier about my impending meeting with supermarket Dawud. I’m a dating novice and I’m starting to wonder if maybe it wouldn’t be wiser just to hand the whole marriage business back to my parents? If they ever discover that I’ve been involved in dating, even my own diluted version, they’d be devastated.

‘Is it really worth it?’ I think aloud.

Aisha’s red-rimmed eyes are bright with emotion. ‘It’s worth it. When you find the one, Mills, you’ll understand that it’s worth everything.’

I don’t really know how to follow this. As Wish takes some pictures I find myself thinking about my Aunt Seema, the aunt who is never mentioned, and how much she must have loved her Alan to have sacrificed her family to be with him. It makes me feel so sad but there’s also a tiny part of me that’s a little envious. What must it be like to find a love so powerful that you would give up everything you hold dear in order to be with the man you love? Would I have the courage to do the same?

I hope I never have to find out.

‘Tired?’ asks Wish, much later, opening the car door and taking my bag from me while I try to clamber out elegantly.

‘Exhausted.’ I yawn. ‘How could you tell?’

Wish grins. ‘The snoring on the way home was a bit of a giveaway.’

‘Snoring!’ I’m mortified. I only nodded off for five minutes tops and I was snoring? Oh Lord. I hope I didn’t dribble onto the seats because Nina will sack me on the spot.

‘Not snoring then.’ Wish bleeps the doors shut and sets the alarm. ‘Breathing heavily maybe? Anyway, can’t blame you. It’s been a busy day.’

‘It certainly has.’ I could fall asleep right here outside Eve’s flat. I’m tired in every way, emotionally, physically and mentally. It’s past nine o’clock now; shadows pool between the houses, and the trees in the square are tinted purple and lilac.

Wish smiles down at me. ‘I should go.’

‘I guess you should. Thanks for driving and getting such amazing photos.’

‘It was a great interview; you should be proud. Aisha really opened up to you.’

‘I hope it makes a difference for Aisha and for other girls just like her.’

‘Do you know something?’ Wish steps closer and for a minute I think that he’s going to kiss me on the cheek, but that’s impossible. I’m a good Muslim girl and he knows the score.

But what if he forgot?

Would I stop him?

‘What?’ I whisper.

He pauses then looks at his watch. ‘I’m two hours late. I’ll be seriously in Minty’s bad books if I don’t get going.’

I’m glad it’s getting dark otherwise he might see me turn milkshake pink. ‘Yes! You’d better go!’

I spin round on my spike-heeled boot so quickly that I feel dizzy.

‘Do you want me to walk you to the door?’

‘No! No!’ My head waggles like that dog in the insurance adverts. ‘I’ll be fine. See you tomorrow!’