by M S James
I pressed further, ‘Did you ask them if they had paid money for you?’
‘No, I didn’t ask. If they had, they would not admit to it. It would be too shameful.’
‘So, you think they did?’
After a further period of silence Anna said, ‘Yes, it is possible.’
‘How is your relationship with them now? Do they know you are meeting with us in England?’
‘I do not live in their house so I do not have to meet them on a daily basis. I have my own house to run, Ya’cub to look after, my job as a teacher, all taking a lot of time. We have space to get used to the new situation. Things are quite strained but Faisal is very good at keeping us all in contact. It is very hard for me to know that my parents deceived me in such a profound way. But… in time we shall be reconciled.’
There was no point in going any further. Anna was in turmoil with her family in Saudi and it wouldn’t benefit the situation for me to add fuel to the fire. However, I knew that Philip and I should avoid, at all costs, meeting Anna’s adoptive parents. The conflagration would destroy everything.
Anna’s reunion with her grandparents was joyous beyond belief. As she stepped into the sitting room my mother welcomed her with open arms. ‘There’s grand for you!’ she exclaimed. Her Irish accent had largely melded into a Kaymbridge one (not to be confused with a Cambridge accent) but at times of heightened emotion her original accent came to the fore. ‘You’re a fine strong girl, so you are.’ She then gave her finest accolade, ‘All the way from Ireland!’ Anna looked somewhat mystified by this remark but there was no point in explaining it. She would get used to her nana’s oddities soon enough. Mum sat Anna down beside her on the sofa, holding her hand as if to prevent her ever leaving again.
‘How are you, Nana?’
‘I’m fine! Never better. Thank God He has returned you to us! But your mother tells me you’re a Heathen now?’
‘No!’ Philip and I chorused.
‘Anna is a Muslim, not a Heathen. She worships the same God as you do. Allah is the Arabic name for God.’ This was news to Mum who looked puzzled.
‘Well, never you mind,’ Mum added. ‘I’m sure God doesn’t mind what you call Him.’
Anna has a sweet nature and she listened to her nana with amused interest. She was thoroughly grilled, yet again, and answered the interrogation with a full explanation of her life.
‘Here is my son and husband,’ said Anna, proudly handing over her photographs.
‘Oh, he is a darlin’ boy, a dote. Just the same as his mother. You looked just like that when… when we last saw you.’ Anna put her other hand tenderly on her nana’s arm.
‘And your husband, he’s a fine-looking man. Does he have other wives?’
‘Mum!’ I scolded her. ‘You can’t ask something like that!’
‘No, he doesn’t,’ answered Anna smiling, ‘I think he has his hands full with me!’
Before she could ask any more embarrassing questions Philip’s parents arrived. Anna prised herself away from one grandmother and went for a hug from her other one.
‘You are so beautiful,’ said Elizabeth with tears in her eyes. ‘You quite take my breath away.’
‘Welcome back, Anna,’ said David. ‘This is the best thing that has happened to us.’ He was unsure whether to kiss her or not so covered his indecision by saying, ‘Here, Philip, a bottle of champagne to celebrate.’
‘I’ll pop it into the fridge,’ replied Philip, ‘I’m sure Anna won’t mind us drinking to her return.’ Explaining this odd remark to his father: ‘Anna is a Muslim, she doesn’t drink alcohol.’
‘Don’t worry about me, I shall be happy with fruit juice,’ added Anna.
David apologised for his mistake, but no offence was taken. In fact, the rest of us toasted our girl with added jollity.
Anna submitted herself to more questioning whilst we all marvelled at how our little girl had grown into this self-assured young woman. She was a credit to her upbringing but – she undoubtedly had good genes…
Epilogue
To our enormous relief, we never met Anna’s adoptive parents. My blood boiled every time I thought about what they had done to us. However desperate they were to have a child to love, they knew what a vile act they had perpetrated in depriving us of our child. We knew it was in the best interests of the family’s future relationships that we acknowledged Anna’s affection for both sets of parents. We just had to make sure we never came in contact with them.
In early January of the following year there were reports in the news of yet another tragedy in Mina, a suburb of Mecca where Hajj pilgrims performed the final rite of the Hajj, stoning a wall that represented Satan. There had been a stampede when vast numbers of people tried to fling their stones before sunset. Three hundred and forty-five people were killed and nearly a thousand injured.
Days later we heard that Anna’s parents had died in the stampede. Anna and Faisal had decided not to go to Mecca at the last moment since Ya’cub had developed a worrying temperature and they had not wanted to leave him with the nanny.
Praise be to Allah.
Allah moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform;
He plants His footsteps in the sea
And rides upon the storm.
(Almost) William Cowper (1731-1800)
About the Author
M S James travelled to Saudi Arabia in her 30s with her husband and children. She worked there as a teacher for five years, firstly in a private Islamic school and then at the British school. On her return to the UK she continued teaching, mainly music and art. She lives in Cambridge.