‘Come on, Shakeel, do me a favour,’ says Zara, who is wearing a dress and smells of perfume.
‘I’m sorry, Zara. I have to go to the library. I’ll try and get back early so you can see your friends.’ He turns to us and says, ‘Try and entertain yourselves and don’t get under Zara’s feet – OK?’
But Zara is still angry with him and slams the door behind him as he leaves. ‘Don’t think I’m looking after your kids when you start sprogging with Professor Ameenah!’ she shouts after him.
As soon as Shakeel is safely out of earshot, Jed says, ‘Why don’t you let me look after these kids while you go and shag your boyfriend?’
Zara turns round quickly and glares at him.
‘Who told you I had a boyfriend, shrimp?’ The ‘shrimp’ doesn’t quite work because, without her heels on, Jed is nearly as tall as she is.
‘I have my sources!’ says Jed with a swagger. ‘My sources also tell me you could do a lot better. Have you ever considered going for a younger man?’
Zara makes a funny gesture with her head and laughs. ‘Oh, I didn’t realise you meant you. The word “man” must have confused me. I don’t go for boys. Sorry!’ She laughs again.
‘You will be,’ says Jed, sounding a bit like his dad. ‘What do you see in that loser anyway?’
‘Um, let me see!’ she puts a finger to her lips. ‘He’s fit. He’s funny . . . His balls have actually dropped.’
‘I think you’ll find everything in order in that department!’ says Jed. ‘But if you’d like to check . . .’ He reaches for the belt of his jeans.
‘Like I wanna go grubbing around in your skiddy little pants!’ she says. ‘How old are you anyway, kid?’
‘Fourteen,’ Jed lies.
‘That figures.’ She laughs. ‘Now out of my way, kiddo!’
Jed steps to one side with a little bow and Zara looks like she’s going to walk on past him, but then she comes right close to his face and says, ‘And if you tell anyone I’ve got a boyfriend . . .’
‘You’ll what?’ says Jed.
Zara pulls herself up straight, sticks her boobs out and I can see her looking at him, wondering what to say next. ‘Are you trying to blackmail me, kid?’
Jed shrugs.
‘Oh, what the hell, if it’ll shut you up!’ Then she grabs his head, presses her mouth to his and moves her lips around for about half a minute.
Priti lets out a giggle. I just stare.
When Zara finally pulls away, Jed’s face is doing a good impression of my beetroot red, and for the first time since I’ve known him, he’s lost for words.
Zara quickly rubs her sleeve over her lips and says, ‘Right, well, if you ever want that to happen again, you keep quiet, you hear?’
Jed just nods and she turns away.
Priti bursts out laughing. ‘Like that’s gonna keep him quiet.’
But Jed doesn’t say anything and neither do I.
After Zara has disappeared into the bedroom she shares with Priti, we sneak upstairs to check out Shakeel’s room for hidden explosives or detonator devices. It feels like we’re playing bomb squad, but Jed says it’s not a game because Shakeel is a potential terror suspect so this is totally for real. And I don’t bother to argue because he and Priti actually seem to agree on something for once.
The door to Zara and Priti’s room is ajar and we can hear Zara on the phone to Tyreese as we crawl past, commando style. (Why don’t soldiers use their knees to crawl on? Is it because they’ve been shot off – as Jed says – or in case they get a bullet in the bum – Priti’s suggestion?)
Glancing in as I crawl by, I can see that the girls’ room is a tip. The beds are unmade, the curtains are still shut giving the room a purple glow and there are clothes strewn everywhere. They’ve got loads of posters on the wall: goth bands and film stars who look like vampires (Zara’s, I guess), girl bands and pretty-boy popstars (must be Priti’s) and there’s make-up and underwear scattered all over the floor.
Zara is on her bed, lying back on some pink furry cushions. Above her hangs a pink and black gauzy thing like a mosquito net. She looks like some sort of gothic princess as she whispers into her mobile. I imagine evil-looking black fairies fluttering in the air around her.
‘Will you two stop ogling my sister so we can get on with spying on my brother!’ whispers Priti impatiently.
Jed and I both snap to attention.
Shakeel’s room is at the end of the corridor and the door is closed but not locked. I imagine a skull and crossbones sign and the caption, Beware all who enter here!
‘Mum won’t let us have locks on our bedrooms,’ Priti whispers. ‘Says she’d rather see the nonsense we get up to.’
Jed and I stand guard while Priti opens the door. Jed is holding two fingers up to his chest, like a pretend revolver. Priti gently eases down the door handle and we all pile into Shakeel’s bedroom.
The room is really neat, not like his sisters’ at all. There’s not much space to move though because a large double bed touches the wall on both sides and there are bookshelves built up all round it which make me wonder how it feels to sleep there. I imagine an avalanche of books burying Shakeel alive while he sleeps.
‘After they get married, Ameenah’s gonna come and live with us. Just till they get a place of their own,’ Priti whispers. ‘That’s why he gets to have a double bed!’
‘If he gets married,’ whispers Jed, staring at the desk with all Shakeel’s law college books on it, then over at the bench beneath the window where all the radio equipment is laid out.
‘What are we looking for?’ I ask.
Priti shrugs so we both look at Jed.
‘Anything suspicious,’ he says. ‘I’ve brought my phone so we can take pictures and pass them on to my dad.’
‘So, Jed, what does your dad do exactly?’ asks Priti, looking straight at him.
‘He’s a mechanic,’ says Jed, opening Shakeel’s underwear drawer and lifting out a pair of boxer shorts. ‘Reckon we should check for skid marks?’
‘So is he in the bomb squad or what?’ asks Priti as Jed waves Shakeel’s pants in front of my face.
Jed shrugs.
‘I thought you said he was in the bomb squad.’
‘No, I didn’t.’ Jed drops the pants back into the drawer and continues rifling through it. Shakeel’s stuff is all very tidy and I can’t help thinking that he’s going to notice someone’s been in here messing it up.
‘Then how does he know about terrorists and bombs and stuff?’
‘Even if I knew, I probably couldn’t tell you. All that sort of stuff is classified, innit?’ He looks right at her. Priti narrows her eyes and stares back. ‘So stop asking stupid questions and get on with it before we get caught.’
‘We’ve got to put everything back exactly where it was,’ I say.
They both turn to look at me, like I’m some kind of freak.
‘You said if he knows we’re on to him, he’ll go underground,’ I say.
‘That’s true,’ agrees Jed. ‘Make a mental note of where things are before you pick them up.’
So that’s what we do and it’s quite good fun. I try to measure the exact position of everything on the desk and replace things really carefully. Jed isn’t so careful and keeps forgetting and Priti doesn’t actually do that much searching. She sits on the bed and quizzes Jed. ‘Ben said your dad’s bomb squad – or whatever it’s called – had identified Shakeel as a suspect,’ she says.
‘No, I didn’t,’ I say.
‘But if he’s not even in the bomb squad then this is a waste of time.’
‘Everyone knows that a Muslim tinkering about in his bedroom with home-made electronics is dodgy,’ says Jed.
‘So what exactly is your dad gonna do when you tell him anyway?’ asks Priti.
‘Hey, look at this!’ I’ve opened this folder and inside is a list – all typed out neatly in columns. Names, addresses, phone numbers and emails accompanied by little ticks and crosse
s in columns.
‘What do your reckon it is?’ I ask, handing it to Jed.
‘This must be a list of all the people in his terror cell!’ says Jed, forgetting to whisper.
‘Shh! ’ says Priti, looking at the list of names. ‘That’s creepy Uncle Aatif,’ she says. ‘I can totally believe he’s a terrorist.’
‘Exactly,’ says Jed, folding up the list and putting it in his pocket. ‘Keep it in the family. Like the Mafia.’
‘Hey, you can’t just take it,’ says Priti.
‘Yes, I can. I’m gonna give this to my dad and he can check these people out.’
‘Won’t Shakeel notice it’s gone?’ I say.
‘He’s got it on computer. He can just print off another copy.’ Jed glances at Shakeel’s laptop. ‘Next time we should bring a memory stick – download stuff off his hard drive. Now come on, keep searching!’
Me and Jed keep up our search and Priti stares out of the window, humming.
‘Wow!’ exclaims Jed suddenly. He pulls something out of the bottom of a drawer from under a pile of neatly stacked pyjamas and holds it up. It looks like a belt of some sort – one of those wide belt things that bullfighters wear – only this one is black and rubbery and lined with compartments: five or six of them, spaced out along its length.
‘Woah!’ says Priti. ‘What is that?’
‘I think it’s pretty obvious what this is,’ says Jed.
‘What?’ I ask.
‘It’s a strap-on bomb!’ says Jed. ‘I’ve seen them on TV. Suicide bombers always wear them under their clothes.’
We all stare at it for a moment.
‘Are you sure?’ I say.
‘Positive,’ says Jed.
We’re all transfixed. I think about the pictures Lukas showed me on the Internet – of men in white robes with belts just like this strapped underneath.
‘Is it live?’ I ask.
‘Dunno,’ says Jed, holding the thing at arm’s length.
We all look at each other.
‘Then how do you know it won’t go off the minute you put it down again?’ says Priti.
Jed clearly hasn’t thought about this. ‘What do you want me to do? Stand here dangling it while you two evacuate the building?’
‘That would be the gentlemanly thing to do,’ says Priti.
‘Go on then!’ Jed retorts.
They stare at each other.
‘Do you think we should tell Zara so she can evacuate too?’ I butt in.
‘No one is evacuating,’ says Jed. ‘I’m just going to put this thing down. One blows, we all blow!’
So we hold our breath as Jed carefully inches the weird-looking contraption back into the drawer where he found it. It’s like a scene from a film. As the bomb belt touches the wooden base of the drawer, Priti lets out a little cry.
But there’s no explosion. We all look at each other and then Jed gives a loud sigh of relief.
‘Shame!’ says Priti. ‘Would’ve been a cool way to go.’
‘Yeah, blown to a million pieces, just like Ben’s dad!’ says Jed.
I try to push the image out of my head, imagining bits of Jed flying off in all directions instead.
‘Hadn’t we better cover it up?’ I say to Jed. ‘We don’t want him to know we’ve seen it.’
‘Perhaps he’s got surveillance cameras up here and is giving the order for us all to be assassinated right now!’ says Jed.
‘Shouldn’t we tell someone?’ I ask.
‘Who?’
‘I dunno. The police. It could go off at any time, couldn’t it?’
But just then there’s a ring at the doorbell and we all freeze. Eventually, Priti peers out of the window. ‘It’s Ameenah!’
‘What do we do now?’ asks Jed.
‘Come on. We have to get out of here,’ says Priti.
We shove things back in roughly the same places we found them then pile quickly out of the room and into the hallway.
Zara’s door is closed now and there’s music coming from inside the room. The doorbell rings again.
‘Who is it?’ Zara yells.
‘It’s Ameenah!’ says Priti.
‘Oh, God!’ Zara curses. There’s the sound of hasty movement and then another voice, not Zara’s – a male voice.
‘Have you got someone in there?’ asks Priti.
The door opens and there is Zara pulling her top back on. I look away quickly (Jed doesn’t) but not before I’ve caught a glimpse of Tyreese, topless and grinning, lying on the bed.
‘Wow, you’re a fast mover!’ says Priti.
Jed keeps staring at Zara as she wiggles back into her top.
‘Look, Ugli,’ Zara says. ‘There’s a fiver in it for you if you can stall her while I get him out of here.’
‘You’re on,’ says Priti, grinning at Tyreese and then at Zara, who looks genuinely nervous. Perhaps she really is worried about being honour-killed.
The doorbell rings again.
‘God, why does the ice maiden have to turn up now?’ Zara curses.
‘We’ll keep her talking while you sneak him out,’ says Priti and, for the first time, I get the feeling Priti isn’t just in this for the money. ‘He can climb the tree house and jump over the fence.’
I glance at Tyreese, who is lying back on the bed now, showing no signs of putting his clothes back on. I imagine him leaping over the fence in just his boxer shorts.
‘Come on,’ says Priti to Jed and me. ‘And don’t forget to smile!’
So when the door opens, Ameenah is confronted by all three of us, breathless and barring her entry with our grins.
‘Hello, Ameenah!’ says Priti brightly.
‘Hello, Ameenah!’ say Jed and I in unison.
It turns out that Ameenah is stunningly beautiful. Priti only ever talks about how clever she is, and Zara is always saying she’s mumsy and middle-aged, so I never expected her to be gorgeous. But she has skin like chocolate peaches, long dark hair and big eyes. She’s wearing traditional dress and looks a bit like Princess Jasmine from Aladdin. (Blythe is into all that stuff and she’s made me sit and watch the DVD with her dozens of times, so that’s how I know.) When I look at her, I imagine butterflies dancing around in my stomach.
‘Wow!’ I hear Jed say under his breath. ‘Shakeel is punching way above his weight!’
‘Hello, Priti. And Priti’s friends,’ says Ameenah, ignoring the comment and looking me and Jed over in the way my grandad does to Priti – as if she’s not sure she approves. I blush, but I don’t look away.
‘This is Ben. And this is Jed. They’re my friends,’ says Priti, still grinning, one hand on the door so Ameenah can’t get in.
‘I see. Hello, Jed and hello, Ben.’
I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out.
‘Shakeel said I could drop by and pick up a brochure about the caterers that I need for the wedding plans.’
‘I see,’ says Priti. ‘And how are the plans going?’ She sounds like my granny when she says this.
‘Very well, thank you.’ Ameenah makes a move to come in. Jed and I edge back nervously, but Priti stands firm.
‘Would you like a drink?’ she asks. ‘A cup of tea perhaps? Or a glass of water?’
‘No, I’m fine, thank you, Priti. I just need to get that brochure.’
‘My mum says you should always offer guests refreshment.’
‘Well, you have offered and I have declined. I am sure she would be satisfied with that,’ says Ameenah, sounding a bit like a schoolteacher.
‘No, she’ll be really cross if she hears you were here and we let you leave without something to drink and a bite to eat,’ says Priti, trying to out-polite Ameenah. ‘She won’t believe me if I say you didn’t want anything.’
‘I’m happy to explain to her if that would help,’ says Ameenah in a very sweet voice, but looking slightly impatient. ‘It’s just that I’m in a bit of a rush.’
‘Please, Ameenah!’ Priti pleads. Then her face l
ights up suddenly as a new idea comes to her. ‘Besides, I need some help with my homework.’
‘I thought school had broken up.’
‘It has,’ says Jed, who has been unusually silent up to this point. ‘Priti’s doing this special holiday project. It’s a bit like coursework, only for younger kids. It’s dead important and Priti says you are really clever.’
‘Yeah,’ says Priti. ‘You are the cleverest person we know.’ She gives Ameenah a big grin.
‘Who’s supposed to be looking after you today, Priti?’ asks Ameenah with a sigh.
‘Zara, but she’s, well, you know what she’s like and she’s not half as clever as you and she won’t even try to help.’
Ameenah sighs and glances at her watch. ‘Very well, I’ll see what I can do. Five minutes though. What is it you are trying to do?’
Priti glances at me and raises her eyes to the heavens. For once, Jed is quiet. Glancing upstairs, I can see Tyreese on the landing. We have to get Ameenah into the kitchen so he can disappear without her noticing.
‘We’re trying to build a bomb!’ I say quickly.
Jed and Priti both turn to stare at me and so does Ameenah. I feel myself starting to go red. ‘It has to be made out of stuff you find in the kitchen,’ I add. ‘It’s a science project. We have to invent something to make an explosion just out of things from around the house.’
Priti and Jed look at Ameenah for her reaction. For a moment, she stares at me and I think I’ve blown it. Then she starts to smile. ‘That sounds interesting,’ she says, looking right at me. The butterflies do backflips in my tummy. ‘I might have a few ideas. Come on. Let’s see what we can find.’
Jed and Priti both grin and as we all troop into the kitchen, Priti whispers, ‘That was awesome. How did you know she was into science?’
‘I didn’t.’
‘She was Young Chemist of the Year about twenty years running. That was a stroke of genius.’
‘Astro Boy can talk when he needs to!’ says Jed, giving me a punch on the arm which hurts more than I let on.
I imagine myself as Astro Boy, taking him out with a well-placed right hook. The thought makes me smile.
Once we’re in the kitchen Ameenah starts talking about bicarbonate of soda and vinegar and Coca-Cola, effervescent vitamin tablets and empty film canisters. She’s so busy rummaging in the cupboards for stuff to make a big bang that she doesn’t hear the front door click as Zara bundles Tyreese out of the house.
We Can Be Heroes Page 8