Jed just shrugs, but his face goes really red.
‘You have to tell the police what you saw, Jed,’ I say.
‘And you have to learn to keep your promises!’ he snaps back.
‘Why won’t you tell them?’ demands Priti.
‘I’ve got my reasons.’
‘What are they?’
‘Loyalty. That’s something we have in my family!’
Priti pulls a face. ‘OK, let me rephrase the question then: why doesn’t your dad want you to tell the fuzz what you saw?’
‘None of your business,’ says Jed.
He refuses to talk about it any more after that. He just gets out his console, slumps on the bed and acts like we’re not even in the room. Priti says she’s not going to hang out with someone who is wilfully obstructing the course of justice and storms off home.
I watch her wheeling her way through the journalists then I pull out my notebook and start work on a new Bomb-busters storyline in which Jed-eye and Lil’ Priti are arguing about whether to get the police involved or to mount a solo mission to rescue the kidnapped girl from the hostage-takers. But I only manage to do one frame because I keep thinking about what Jed said and I can’t seem to concentrate on drawing properly.
AUGUST 16TH
When we wake up, we see that somebody has graffitied the front of the Muhammeds’ door in the night: Pakis, give her back! it says in bold, red letters. Mr Muhammed tries to wash it off and the TV crews film him out there with his sponge and bucket of white spirit. But it won’t budge.
Something else has happened too. Uncle Ian has told the police that Jed’s mum was there on the day of the wedding party. He turns up at the house again, this time with the nice policewoman and the policeman, who say they need to ask more questions. And they bring a social worker, at Uncle Ian’s request, supposedly to protect Jed’s interests – although Jed doesn’t look too pleased about it. In fact, he doesn’t look too pleased about seeing his dad at all.
First the policeman asks Granny and Grandad about Auntie Karen coming over and ‘harassing them’ as Uncle Ian calls it. Uncle Ian sits on the arm of the sofa with his arm round Jed’s shoulders and answers most of the questions for them, even though he wasn’t actually there.
The social worker makes loads of notes and at one point she says, ‘But Karen was granted contact rights by the family court, is that right?’
Granny looks up and Grandad is staring at Uncle Ian.
‘Jed didn’t want to see her and I wasn’t about to force him,’ says Uncle Ian. ‘Isn’t that right, son?’
Jed just nods. With his dad’s arm round him, he looks smaller than usual.
Granny purses her lips tight and Grandad looks confused.
But then the police start asking me and Jed loads of questions, and Uncle Ian keeps his arm round Jed’s shoulders the whole time as if he’s afraid Jed might leg it out of the room. Jed keeps shifting around and scratching his head like he’s got nits or something.
Were we aware of Auntie Karen’s presence at the wedding prior to the encounter in the alleyway? the policeman asks us.
‘No,’ says Jed.
‘Were you aware she’d been spying on you?’
‘No – That is, yes.’
‘Which is it?’ The policeman asks all the questions this time, not the nice police lady who just stands in the background and takes notes.
‘I suppose,’ says Jed. He keeps scratching his head till I reckon it must really hurt, but he can’t seem to stop.
‘How did you know? Did she say she’d been spying on you?’
‘She wanted to see me, yeah,’ says Jed, still scratching.
Uncle Ian slaps his hand away from his head sharply. Jed twitches his head and holds his hand tight in his lap.
‘Did she say whether she had ever spied on you before?’
‘No.’
‘And had she tried to make contact with you before this?’
I think of the letter under the bush, the letter Jed keeps under his mattress and which I’ve been tempted to read, but haven’t.
‘No.’ The way he’s sitting, it looks like Uncle Ian’s arm round his shoulder weighs a ton or something.
‘Has she or any member of her family ever tried to make contact with you outside the terms of the contact order?’ asks the social worker, who is middle-aged and dressed in beige and talks with a fake, soft voice.
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘Any secret meetings? Phone calls? That you weren’t supposed to tell anyone about? Don’t worry – you can tell us.’ She smiles in that way that is supposed to make us feel we can trust her, but immediately makes me feel the opposite.
I glance quickly at Granny, who looks pale and washed out, her blue eyes suddenly grey like her hair.
‘No!’ says Jed.
‘And on the day of the party,’ the policeman says, obviously keen to stick to what’s relevant to the Stevie Sanders enquiry, ‘would you say your mother seemed desperate?’
‘Yes,’ says Jed.
‘More so than usual?’
‘I don’t usually see her, so how would I know?’ Jed twitches his head again and stares down at his hands.
The policeman turns to me. ‘Ben, do you think Jed’s mum seemed agitated or distressed that day?’
‘I guess so,’ I say. I want to add that this isn’t really surprising, but Uncle Ian is looking at me, so I don’t.
‘Did either of you see which way she went after she spoke to you?’
‘No,’ says Jed.
I say nothing.
‘Of course, you ran off, didn’t you?’ says the policeman, looking back through his notepad, but I’m not sure if he believes Jed. ‘You ran down to the other end of the cul-de-sac,’ he says, reading from his notes. Then he looks up. ‘So if she’d left that way, you’d have seen her, right?’
‘I don’t know,’ says Jed, twisting his fingers in his lap.
‘Answer the question!’ says Uncle Ian.
‘I suppose so,’ says Jed.
‘Did you see her leave that way, Mr Evans?’ The policewoman turns to Uncle Ian. ‘You were with Jed at that time.’
‘No,’ says Uncle Ian. ‘No, I didn’t.’
‘So the only other way she could have left would have been through the park?’
Suddenly I see what they’re getting at. They think she went back through the park and snatched Stevie on the way – just like Priti’s mad theory.
‘She didn’t go through the park,’ says Jed quietly.
‘How do you know?’ the policeman says.
‘I just know,’ says Jed. ‘She must have left some other way.’
‘What about you, Ben? Did you see which way she left?’
I glance at Jed.
‘No,’ I say, then, ‘I don’t know.’
But they don’t seem that bothered about what I’ve got to say because then Uncle Ian starts talking about restraining orders and stuff and the police talk about getting Auntie Karen in for questioning. And suddenly it’s like me and Jed aren’t even there at all. I look at Jed, who’s staring out of the window in the direction of the alleyway.
After the police have gone, Jed legs it upstairs.
‘You did the right thing, Mum,’ Uncle Ian says to Granny, who is looking shocked and upset.
‘I can’t help feeling sorry for Karen,’ she says.
‘That’s what she wants, Mum. But she doesn’t deserve your sympathy. She’s an unfit mother.’
‘No mother is perfect,’ says Granny. ‘I sometimes wish I’d done things differently with you and your brother.’
‘Don’t bring Andrew into this,’ says Uncle Ian. ‘She’s dug her own grave. That’s all there is to it.’
But Granny doesn’t respond. Maybe there’s nothing left for her to say.
More things I’d like to know about Uncle Ian
1. Why did he and Auntie Karen split up?
2. Is he really brainwashing Jed, like Priti says he
is?
3. Why did he lie to the police about Auntie Karen going off through the park?
4. Will the police find out that he’s lying?
5. If he saw the bikers beat Mik up, why didn’t he try to help him?
6. Did he tell the police about any of that?
7. Why does he look such a mess suddenly?
8. Why doesn’t he like it when Granny talks about my dad?
9. Would my dad have been like him if he was still around?
10. And if he was, would I have still loved him, like Jed loves Uncle Ian?
‘The crap’s really hit the fan now!’ Priti says when she pitches up, breathless and soaking wet, halfway through Granny’s salad and corned-beef lunch. Uncle Ian left right after the police, and so it’s just the four of us, eating in virtual silence until Priti bursts in. She’s shivering and she looks kind of frightened.
‘You poor thing, you’re soaking,’ says Granny. I don’t think she wanted to let Priti in, but she didn’t get much choice. Then Priti says, ‘Shit,’ just like that, right in the middle of Granny’s dining room while me and Jed and Grandad are sitting at the table, forks halfway to our mouths, and I’m not sure who’s the most shocked. I don’t think anyone has used that word in this house for years (except maybe Uncle Ian).
‘Tyreese has only gone and told the police about him and Zara,’ says Priti, her words tumbling out of her mouth in a rush. ‘And all about how Zara was scared my brothers would honour-kill her if they found out and so the police have told my mum and dad and now they’re all kicking off!’
‘Blimey!’ says Jed.
‘And Tyreese is claiming Mik kidnapped Stevie as revenge for the dishonour to the family. Only I reckon they did it and they’re trying to frame Mik like they did to Said.’ Priti barely pauses for breath. ‘And Shakeel has gone storming out of the house and no one has seen him for ages and he’s probably gone to hire the contract killer and now there’s a big fight going on and who knows what will happen next.’
‘Why didn’t you stay to listen?’ Jed asks.
‘My mum sent me over here,’ says Priti. ‘She didn’t want me to be exposed to it.’
‘Oh, that’s charming, that is!’ says Grandad. ‘I suppose she’ll be wanting us to adopt the kid next!’ But he doesn’t look that fed up because this is a bit like one of those daytime TV shows with the lie-detector tests, and people crying and shouting at each other, happening right in his own dining room.
‘You should have called my number then left your phone on over there, so we could have listened to what’s going on. We could even have recorded it.’
‘Jed!’ says Granny. She’s looking quite alarmed. The stuff with the police this morning has left her shaken, and she and Grandad had no idea about Zara and Tyreese or about the honour killing or the suicide bomb plot or any of it.
‘Funny how I didn’t exactly have time to think of that when my sister is about to be murdered by our own parents,’ says Priti.
‘They’ll never get away with killing her now,’ says Jed. ‘The cul-de-sac is crawling with police and reporters.’
Jed’s right. Grandad complained that he couldn’t even get his car out of the drive yesterday. And there are loads more protesters now with their banners. Apparently, it’s getting so bad that the police have had to draft in extra numbers for this service at the cathedral tonight in case there’s trouble.
‘What’s all this talk of killing?’ says Granny. ‘I’m sure you’re letting your imaginations run away with you.’
‘We’re not, Granny – honest!’ I say. ‘Zara was seeing this boy – Tyreese – and bringing shame on Priti’s family.’
‘And now they’ve found out they have to kill her,’ says Jed.
‘I’m sure this can’t be true,’ says Granny, but she’s gone really pale and I notice that her hands are shaking.
‘It is, Mrs Evans,’ says Priti. ‘And Dad says it’s all Zara’s fault that Mik’s been arrested. And Mum is just crying all the time. I’ve never seen them so mad.’
‘Well, the police don’t want to go releasing your brother now,’ says Grandad. ‘Not now everyone thinks he’s a kidnapper. They’ll lynch him for sure.’
‘That’s why the bikers are trying to frame him,’ says Priti, shifting anxiously from foot to foot, like she wants to go to the loo.
‘He’s perfectly safe in police custody,’ says Granny.
‘I wouldn’t be so sure about that!’ mutters Grandad.
Granny looks at him. ‘Don’t scare the girl, Barry,’ she says.
‘I’m already scared,’ says Priti. ‘My brother and sister can be really annoying, but I wouldn’t want either of them bumped off.’
‘Let’s not be too dramatic,’ says Granny. ‘I’m quite sure nothing like that is going to happen.’
‘And now Shakeel’s gone missing too,’ says Priti, hopping around some more. ‘He said he was going to the mosque and then getting some stuff for his radios, but he’s been gone for hours and no one knows where he is.’
‘He’s gone to get more radio equipment?’ says Jed, raising his voice significantly.
Priti nods. ‘He was going to go the service at the cathedral later, to show that the Asian community care, but now no one knows where he is.’
‘Radio equipment!’ Jed repeats, staring at me and Priti.
There’s a pause before Priti says, ‘Oh, crap!’ Granny opens her eyes wide with shock and Grandad chokes on a bit of lettuce. ‘You don’t think . . .?’
‘Too right I do!’ says Jed.
‘This is all going too fast for me,’ says Grandad.
‘What are you all talking about now?’ asks Granny. She looks like a fragile old lady.
‘Nothing, Granny,’ I say. ‘Don’t worry about it.’
‘Shakeel wouldn’t really though, would he?’ says Priti, looking alarmed.
‘Are you willing to bet a load of people’s lives on it?’ says Jed.
Priti glances at me and then back at Jed. For once she doesn’t seem to be finding all the drama exciting. ‘You’re right,’ she says. ‘I’d better be going. Somebody has to stop him.’
‘But what about your wet clothes?’ asks Granny anxiously.
‘I’ve really got to get back. Thanks anyway, Mrs Evans.’
‘Are you sure you wouldn’t rather stay here for a bit?’
‘She’s really got to go, Granny,’ I say.
‘Right,’ says Granny as Jed bundles Priti out towards the door.
‘The minute Shakeel gets back, you’ve got to put a tail on him,’ Jed tells Priti as we all crowd into the porch. ‘And text us about any suspicious movements’.
Jed’s face lights up as something occurs to him. ‘I bet he’s targeting the service tonight,’ he says. ‘Think of all those Christians in one place and blowing up a massive cathedral – that’d be a good thing for an Islamic terrorist, don’t you reckon? He’d get plenty of virgins for that!’
Priti nods, but she’s got a faraway look in her eyes. She pauses for a second before she opens the door to the waiting media outside. ‘Do you think he really is, you know, a suicide bomber?’
‘I reckon so,’ says Jed and it’s almost like he wants it to be true.
‘Do you, Ben?’ Priti turns to me.
‘Maybe,’ I say and afterwards I wonder why I said it – something to do with being better safe than sorry, I suppose.
‘All right then. I’ll send Jed a text if anything happens.’
And then she’s gone and it’s too late to say I’m not sure.
Me and Jed spend all afternoon watching Priti’s house with our binoculars. Shakeel comes back about 4 p.m., but after that no one else comes or goes for ages and we don’t hear anything from Priti. I’m starting to get a bit bored, and I guess so are the cameramen outside the Muhammeds’ house, but for some reason Jed doesn’t get restless, which is completely unlike him. He just stares at the house through the binoculars, refusing to answer any of my questions.
>
Then, at 5.33 p.m., there’s finally some action to wake up the sleeping paps. The front door opens and we see Shakeel come out, dressed in full robes.
‘Suspect on the move,’ says Jed.
Mr and Mrs Muhammed, and Zara (who’s got sunglasses on again), Ameenah and Priti all follow Shakeel out on to the driveway. It’s like a family photo opportunity. They all look self-conscious, but there’s nothing hurried about it. We watch as Shakeel says goodbye to them all in turn. The journalists’ cameras click, click, click.
‘Like he’s going on a long journey,’ I say.
‘It’s a long way to heaven!’ says Jed ominously.
And there is something really formal about the way they all say goodbye to him – not like he’s just popping out to the shops for some milk.
Priti looks up at the window and nods. We wave, but she doesn’t wave back – she’s got her hands thrust deep inside the folds of her sari, like she’s cold or something. Then, when none of the others are looking, she quickly raises a hand to her ear and mimes holding the telephone. It’s done in an instant then her hands are curled back round herself again.
‘She’s going to call us,’ I say and a minute later, Jed’s phone beeps.
‘You’ve got a message,’ I say.
‘I know, dumbo,’ he says, picking it up. ‘It’s from Priti.’ He hands it to me.
Suichde bomber on the mov it says (I guess it’s hard to text with only one hand when you’re not looking).
‘She must think Shakeel’s really going to blow himself up,’ I say.
‘And he’s taking Priti with him, by the looks of it,’ says Jed.
He’s right. Shakeel is getting into the car and Priti – who’s dressed just like she was on the day of the wedding, in her very best sari, minus the wheelies – is getting in with him. The rest of the family stay on the driveway to wave as the car drives off.
Jed’s phone beeps again. Jed reads the message then passes it to me. Bom belt on it reads.
‘We should try and follow them,’ says Jed.
‘How?’ I say. ‘It’s not like either of us can drive, even if we did have a car.’
We Can Be Heroes Page 23