by Ayisha Malik
Shelley had nothing to say. Anne turned back around. Khala clutched that necklace of hers. The van went silent.
‘If you ask me, it’s not like the best idea,’ said Gerald, clearing something that seemed to be stuck in his throat. ‘Mosque would look a bit weird, innit? Can’t you just pray at home or something?’ he added to Mariam.
‘You would think,’ she replied.
‘Never mind your opinion,’ said Shelley, visibly shaken by Anne’s words. ‘What were you thinking, stealing the bell?’
Gerald shrugged. ‘Dunno. You know how sometimes you think things and don’t even know why? Teddy was always saying people don’t think enough. He was the one who used to say: “Why you saying that, Ger? Where’d you even get that from?”’ He paused, looking at Mariam. ‘I’m well sorry about that graffiti.’
Mariam drove over a pothole, everyone holding on to their seat.
‘Well, at least we know how you feel now,’ replied Mariam eventually, her voice cold.
‘No, I don’t. Honest. I just didn’t think. It was just for a laugh. I’ll do anything to make it up to you, yeah? I’ll clean your garden for a year. Just don’t tell me nan, please.’
Mariam sighed.
‘I should’ve asked myself what Teddy would’ve done,’ added Gerald.
‘Not stolen a bell, I’m sure,’ said Shelley.
‘Or he might’ve,’ said Anne, staring out of the window. ‘He wasn’t an angel. Who knows who he’d be if he were still here.’
They all went quiet for a few moments.
‘I remember when Haaris was learning how to ride his bike,’ said Mariam. ‘He’d gone off ahead, leaving Bilal behind, lost his balance and would’ve hit his head if Teddy hadn’t been there.’
Anne stared at her. ‘Your silence was the worst,’ she said, voice low.
Mariam swallowed hard.
‘Of all the people, I never thought you’d back away,’ Anne added.
They’d come off the A-road and were following a narrow, winding road. She wanted to stop right there and ask for her friend’s forgiveness. All she could do was whisper: ‘I’m sorry.’
Anne stared ahead.
‘I don’t even have an excuse. Just, you know, regret.’
‘Don’t we all,’ said Anne.
Silence.
‘I mean,’ began Shelley, as if she’d heard nothing spoken between Anne and Mariam, ‘it has to be said that Teddy was always very polite.’
‘Yeah,’ said Gerald. ‘Like, really polite. I mean, he’d give money to homeless people in town and stuff, wave to kids, pretend he was an aeroplane and all kinds of shit. Sorry. Then he’d get this look, yeah, this faraway look and said it hurt to be in the world sometimes.’
Anne looked away, tried to wipe her eyes but couldn’t help the sob from breaking through.
‘Sorry, Miss L,’ said Gerald.
She shook her head, unable to speak. Mariam pulled over, ignoring the car behind that beeped at her, and drew Anne into a hug, the gearstick digging into her thigh.
‘Please, don’t,’ said Anne.
‘Oh, dear,’ said Shelley, shuffling forward and patting Anne’s shoulder. ‘There, there now. It’s a horrid thing, I know. Horrid.’
Anne’s sobs got louder. ‘I don’t know what to do,’ she said. ‘I just don’t know what to do with any of it.’
‘Of course you don’t,’ said Shelley. ‘Look at us. None of us know what to do with anything and you … well. Let’s just say you’re a very brave woman.’
Anne caught her breath, breaking away from Mariam.
‘I should’ve told you that sooner,’ said Shelley, sitting back again and looking at Khala, whose eyes flickered between everyone.
‘God, I’m sorry,’ said Anne, wiping her tears.
Mariam took Anne’s hand and squeezed it. She’d never let this happen again. Wasn’t life about breaking through the barrier of discomfort, trying to get to the other side? Isn’t that what you had to do to keep any relationship worth having?
‘Since we’re apologising, yeah,’ said Gerald, turning to Shelley, ‘I’m well sorry to you too, Mrs H.’
‘You certainly should be,’ said Shelley.
Which made Anne laugh. Then Mariam laughed.
‘It’s not at all funny,’ said Shelley.
This just made the two of them laugh even more as they carried on towards Gavin’s house.
MARIAM DROVE THROUGH PEATLAND’S centre, unable to see much in the dense, freezing fog. The streetlamps were too dim to make much difference. Everyone peered out of the van’s windows.
‘SatNav’s not gonna be much use now,’ said Gerald. ‘Just follow this road to the top, yeah? And then make a right down the lane.’
When Mariam got to the turning she insisted it wasn’t a lane.
‘Trust me,’ replied Gerald.
She dutifully turned right, only without the streetlamps she couldn’t see much, so slowed down to Khala’s pace, who was, incidentally, muttering prayers under her breath.
‘Gerald, where on earth is this place?’ said Shelley. ‘There aren’t any houses,’ she added, squinting outside the window.
‘Middle of nowhere, innit?’ replied Gerald.
Just then Mariam’s phone rang. She picked up to Bilal on the other end of the line.
‘Wh-ell-ou.’
‘What?’
‘’ere-ai’s-an?’
‘I can’t hear you,’ she said. ‘Hello? Bilal?’
She looked at her phone. No reception. Shelley, Anne and Gerald also looked at their phones. No Service.
‘Kithay agaye?’ came Khala’s worried voice. She was staring out of the window.
‘I have no idea where we are, Khala,’ mumbled Mariam.
Gerald continued to lead them towards the house, Mariam continuing to trust him.
‘I can’t see,’ he said, pushing himself forward, hands either side of Anne and Mariam’s headrests.
Mariam turned her full beams on, the misty outline of a house no more than six feet away.
‘Yes,’ said Gerald, pumping his fist. ‘Got you here, didn’t I?’
‘Quite a feat,’ said Shelley.
Gerald paused. ‘I guess I’d better get him.’
He didn’t move.
‘Go on then,’ said Shelley.
He swallowed hard before he opened the van door and jumped on to the frosty ground. They heard a dog barking. Mariam edged the car forward, watching Gerald walk up to the house.
It was a few minutes before Gavin came out in jeans and a black vest showing his hulking arms, a silver chain glinting around his neck. He pulled at the Rottweiler, who looked quite frantic and ready to jump on Gerald.
‘Isn’t he cold?’ said Anne.
Gavin’s gaze rested on the women in the van.
‘Do you think Gerald’s okay?’ said Mariam.
‘Hai hai, what a disgusting dog,’ said Khala. ‘Why won’t he stop barking?’
The blue house paint was chipped, the picket fence broken and Mariam could just about see an old shed behind the property. After a few minutes the situation looked heated, so Mariam got out of the van, followed by Anne. There were the faraway cries of some sort of bird, the cold causing both Anne and Mariam to shiver, the stillness of the place feeling like a threat.
‘I paid you for it so we’re square, all right? You ladies can sit right back in your van.’
‘Listen,’ said Anne. ‘We’ll return your money. The bell’s very important.’
Mariam was looking at Anne so didn’t notice Gavin frowning at her.
‘You the family that’s going on about turning that church into a mosque?’
For the first time, Mariam thought she might actually become a victim of racist violence. It was more troubling than she’d imagined.
‘Yes,’ she replied, straightening her back.
He stared at her. Even Gerald looked nervous. Another bird screeched from somewhere in the distance; the Rottweiler foamed at the mo
uth.
‘My girlfriend’s Buddhist,’ said Gavin. ‘She could do with a centre around here. But you don’t get those in these parts, do you?’
Mariam cleared her throat, hopeful, if somewhat confused. ‘No.’
‘Anyway,’ Gavin added. ‘It’s too late, so you’d best get out of here, before I set my dog on you.’
Maybe not so hopeful.
‘You mean the bell’s gone?’ asked Anne.
He eyed her up and down.
‘Gav—’
‘And you’d better leg it too,’ interrupted Gavin, jabbing his finger at Gerald. ‘Before I show you what happens to people who disturb my Christmas break.’
‘Now, listen here,’ said Shelley, who had also got out of the van. ‘What will you gain by keeping this bell? Let’s be civilised.’
‘This your nan?’ said Gavin to Gerald.
‘I most certainly am not.’
Gavin stepped forward, loosening his Rottweiller’s leash as Gerald took a step back. ‘Get out of here, Ger. I’m giving you thirty seconds, all right?’
Gerald glanced at the three of them, Mariam increasingly aware that her husband had no idea where she was. Shelley looked like she wanted to give Gavin a good talking to. Just then Khala, wrapped in a big black and white tassled shawl, bundled out of the van.
‘Khala, we’re leaving,’ said Mariam.
Khala paused, flinching at the barking dog, but seemed to steel herself as she walked up to Gavin, took his hand and placed something in it. He gave her a dubious look before he opened up his palm. They all saw the glint of gold as he brought it up to his face. He turned on his phone’s torch and inspected it.
‘This real?’ he asked Khala.
‘Real,’ she confirmed.
‘What are you doing?’ said Mariam.
‘Sshh,’ replied Khala. ‘Tell him give the bell.’
‘But your husband gave you that,’ said Mariam. ‘It has Allah’s name on it.’
‘Allah is everywhere,’ said Khala, tears surfacing. ‘Not just around my neck.’
‘Khala …’ said Shelley.
She didn’t need to know Punjabi to understand what was happening.
‘Well?’ said Mariam to Gavin. ‘You can keep that if you give the bell back.’
‘If this is fake, I know where you live, Ger.’
Gerald shook his head.
‘All right,’ said Gavin. ‘This way.’
Giving that necklace had felt like Rukhsana’s parting present, and though happiness wasn’t quite what she felt, it was the sense of having done the right thing. And the latter could often lead to the former.
Her husband would’ve agreed.
They’d come home to Bilal striding out of the door, speaking to Mariam quickly, while Gulfashan and Shagufta attacked Rukhsana with too many questions. She entered the house to see another face in the room – the old man from the pub. Tom started talking loudly at Anne and Gerald, shaking his fist, and then Shelley looked so uncomfortable Rukhsana wanted to tell her to stay for chai. But she left, without anyone stopping her. Not to have someone stop you from leaving the warmth of a full house was a sad thing. And then everyone cheered for Rukhsana and the old man hugged her and she found the feeling.
Happiness.
It was late at night when she heard Bilal’s footsteps and called out to him in a low voice, her heart in her throat.
‘Beta, in the new year, it will be time for me to go back to Birmingham.’
Rukhsana felt a pull at her heart just at the mention of it. Bilal stared at her.
‘You’ve looked after me enough. I’ve enjoyed my time, but you are all busy and … I should leave.’
She wasn’t quite sure why he looked so still, or why he paused for so long.
‘Khala, I …’
‘Oh, don’t worry about your khala. I overstayed my welcome already, na?’
‘No, Khala, it’s not that, it’s …’
‘What, beta?’
‘Well, there is no house to go back to,’ he said.
‘Kya?’ she asked.
What did he mean? Bilal came and perched on the side of her bed, looking at her blue veins snaking around her ankles.
‘I sold the house. For money for the land.’
Rukhsana rested her hand where her necklace used to be, on account of being used to Allah being there. What did he mean he sold the house? But that’s where she lived.
‘I’m sorry, I should’ve told you, but there was never the right time and … we didn’t want to worry you.’
‘Beta,’ she whispered, feeling overwhelmed and her eyes stinging with tears. ‘That was my sister’s home.’
Bilal looked down. ‘I know. It wasn’t easy. But I don’t want you to think you have nowhere to go. You have us and we’ll … we’ll think of something for you. A nice communal place to live.’
They wouldn’t even keep her with them. She’d be taken to some nursing home. No-one would visit. She’d die without any family or friends around her. Ya Allah you are all knowing. And He was the only one who knew Rukhsana’s pain in that moment. The breaking of a heart for lack of a place to call home.
‘If we’re doing this protest then you’re going to have to get out of your grave,’ said Mariam.
Bilal opened his eyes. There she was in her brown Barbour coat, hair falling over her face, looking down at him. The cold seeped through his layers of clothing and into his veins, the earth frosty and hard as he shifted his body weight here and there. It had begun to drizzle, the icy droplets falling on his face. Bilal was still agitated about Mariam going off with Khala to retrieve the bell. (What if something had happened to her? What would happen to Haaris? Would he go to live with his biological dad? Why did Saif seem to have everything that mattered to Bilal?) And then, of course, there was the selling of the house without telling Khala … Such thoughtless cowardice.
He might stay in his grave.
‘Look, I said I’m sorry about last night but all was okay in the end and, you know, we got what we went for,’ she said, crouching.
They had all returned the evening before to find a furious Tom in the living room.
‘What’s she doing here?’ Tom had demanded, looking at Shelley.
Shelley seemed to swallow as she paused. ‘Well, I’ll be on my way.’
Before anyone could say much, Shelley gave Khala one last look, nodded, and left. It was only then that they cheered for Khala for having saved the day. Gavin would be returning the bell to St Swithun’s in his lorry, for an extra charge, of course, paid by Shelley. Even Tom, who didn’t care two bits about it, thought Khala had shown good form. She looked rather alarmed when he put his arm around her.
‘We’d better go,’ Anne had said.
‘See you all at the protest tomorrow,’ replied Tom.
‘Oh no you won’t,’ she’d said. ‘The doctor’s said you need to rest. You’ve been too excitable lately.’
‘What the hell does she know?’
‘Maybe Anne’s right,’ Richard had added.
‘I’d show you how fit I am right now if you weren’t wearing that damn collar. And I’m not missing out on showing up that old bag.’
‘She’s all right, you know,’ said Gerald. ‘For an old bag, I mean.’
‘Bell’s rung out your brain, boy. Anyway, Bill’s given me this placard,’ said Tom, picking it up.
Babbel’s End we just ask that you let us have our mosque.
‘I said he should change it to: Babbel’s End can just fuck off, we’ll make this church a fucking mosque.’
‘Not quite what we’re going for,’ said Bilal.
‘Least you could do since I donated that money, but I guess it’s that Muslim blood of yours. Makes you proper.’ He paused. ‘When we get that church deconsecrated you’re going to use that for the conversion, all right?’
Bilal wanted to argue but was fearful of the brimming of his own emotions. He didn’t think Tom would appreciate them.
Now,
Bilal had been taking a moment in the grave to think about Bruce – had Bilal’s passions manipulated his memory? Had it definitely been Bruce’s writing? And about Khala, and possibly losing Mariam and Haaris.
‘We’re not pressing charges against Gerald, then?’ he asked.
Mariam considered it for a moment and shook her head. ‘No. Stupid boy. But we’ll think of something for him to do to try and make up for it.’
Bilal closed his eyes. ‘Yes. I suppose so.’ Gerald had to be forgiven, even though it felt rather unjust. Bilal was only surprised that Mariam didn’t hand him over to the police immediately. He took a deep breath, as if that would help how depressed he felt at the state of life’s affairs. ‘You should’ve seen Khala when I told her about the house.’
‘She’s not come out of her room,’ replied Mariam. ‘Haaris sat in there for a while.’
Life was all about rights, wasn’t it? The rights we have over others, and the ones they have over us.
‘What do you want to do, Mariam?’ he said, sitting up.
‘About?’
‘You know. About us.’
She plucked the withered blades of grass, her hands red from the cold, unable to look him in the eye. ‘I don’t know.’
He pushed himself out of the grave, brushing down his trousers.
‘I suppose one protest at a time,’ he mumbled, about to walk back into the house. Then he paused and looked at Mariam.
She was biting the inside of her cheek.
Bilal took another deep breath. ‘We need to talk about Khala.’
‘YOU ARE GOING TOO?’ asked Rukhsana as her friends scurried in and out of the kitchen, gathering the snacks they’d made for the people on the right side.
‘Le,’ exclaimed Shagufta. ‘Of course we are going.’
There was a mosque at stake and suddenly the aunts were acting as if this was their village. The whole country was acting as if it was their village. Yes, Rukhsana could understand why Shelley was angry.
‘Why are you staying home?’ asked Gulfashan, wrapping foil over the tray of samosas.
Rukhsana wanted to tell her it was because she saw little reason in things now, but felt this might be rather too self-pitying.