The Child Bride

by Cathy Glass

  ‘I didn’t know that,’ Zeena said.

  ‘Thankfully you’ve had the courage to speak out now,’ I said. ‘Tara is going to help you and arrange counselling. But, Zeena, it will take time for you to recover. Your pain won’t go away quickly; it will take many months, if not years. Allow yourself time and you will heal eventually. You’re intelligent and very brave, and you have your whole life ahead of you. I know you won’t let your father and uncle and those other abusers ruin it for you.’

  She gave a small nod. ‘That gives me some hope. I feel so dreadful right now. The future looks dark and scary.’

  ‘I know, love. But it will brighten. You will make it happen. I know you will.’

  We sipped our tea and took a biscuit each from the packet. Zeena watched me as I dunked mine into my mug before eating it.

  ‘How do you do that so it doesn’t drop off into your tea?’ she asked lightly.

  ‘Years of practice,’ I said, with a smile.

  We were quiet for a few moments as we drank our tea and ate our biscuits. The curtains were drawn against the night and the room felt cosy, as though cocooning us from whatever lay ahead.

  ‘Zeena,’ I said at length. ‘Did your mother really not know what was going on?’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ she said. ‘And I don’t blame her.’

  ‘You’re very forgiving,’ I said.

  She shrugged. ‘My family is different from yours. In my family, like many Asian families, my father was always in charge. His word was law and we all did what he said, including my mother. We would never think of disobeying him. My mother would never question or criticize him in anything. He was like a god to her and it would never cross her mind to challenge him. Even if she did suspect something was wrong, she’d put it from her mind.’

  ‘Even blaming you for Hasan’s rape?’ I asked.

  ‘It wasn’t just her. They all did. It’s part of the culture in the villages to blame the girls. The boys can do nothing wrong; it’s the girls who bring dishonour. My parents, like many of the families we know, still believe that. If a girl or a woman is raped then it is thought they brought it on themselves. That is what my mother believed as well. And of course like everyone else she was worried about family honour; that’s why she made me get married. I was damaged goods. No one else wanted me. She thought that would make it right.’

  ‘Does your father ever hit your mother?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Zeena said.

  ‘Can’t she leave him?’

  Zeena shook her head. ‘It wouldn’t cross her mind to. She hasn’t known anything different, and her sister and her mother were both hit by their husbands, so it’s no big deal to them.’ I frowned. ‘My mother was married at sixteen,’ Zeena continued. ‘It was an arranged marriage, as they all are in the villages. As is the custom, she didn’t meet her husband until her wedding day, so she didn’t know if he was nice or not. My father brought her to this country and they lived with some of his relatives, where she was treated like a slave. Mother had to do everything for them and they hit her with a broom handle if she got it wrong. Then, at seventeen, she had me, and my brothers and sisters followed quickly.’

  I nodded.

  ‘She hasn’t the confidence to leave him. And where would she go?’ Zeena said. ‘It would bring dishonour on the whole family if she left him, and she’d never do that. She’s not like me. Women like my mother don’t leave their husbands. They just shut up and put up with it.’

  It was so depressingly sad, but I adjusted my feelings slightly towards Zeena’s mother for not protecting her daughter, for it seemed in some ways she was nearly as much a victim as Zeena.

  We talked for a while longer, about school, the safe house Norma was finding for her, and continuing her education in another part of the country. ‘It’s going to be so strange at first,’ she said, trying to be positive. ‘I’ve always lived around here. But it’s only until the trial.’

  I nodded.

  Presently she stifled a yawn. I glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. It was after 3 a.m. I knew we’d both be exhausted in the morning but I was pleased we’d had this opportunity to talk. I felt close to Zeena now, and I hoped to be able to help her after she’d moved. She was already ostracized from her family and now she was about to leave behind her friends at school, so I would do all I could to help her. I thought it was a testament to her strength of spirit (and desperation) that she was able to go through with this; moving away and then testifying against her father and others. But what was the alternative? To remain in a life of abuse and servitude. And I wondered how many other girls were trapped and terrorized into staying in an abusive situation, suffering but too frightened to speak out. It didn’t bear thinking about.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The Silence Was Deafening

  I woke the following morning to see Paula and Lucy standing beside my bed, looking at me, very concerned.

  ‘Are you all right, Mum?’ Paula asked.

  ‘It’s after seven-thirty,’ Lucy said. ‘You’re never in bed this late. Are you ill?’ They were used to me being up before them and waking them on a weekday, although they set their bedside alarm clocks.

  ‘I’m fine,’ I said, heaving myself up from the pillows. ‘Just a bit tired. I didn’t go to sleep until the early hours.’

  ‘As long as you’re all right,’ Paula said. ‘We were worried.’

  They kissed my cheek and then disappeared out of my bedroom to finish getting ready: Lucy for work, and Paula for sixth form. I was touched that they’d been so concerned, but as they’d said, it wasn’t like me to be in bed so late.

  As Zeena wasn’t going to school there was no rush for me to dress, so I went downstairs in my dressing gown to make a cup of coffee. There was no movement coming from Zeena’s room, so I guessed she was still asleep. I didn’t know which shift Adrian was working – it kept changing – but he would have set his alarm, so I didn’t wake him. As I waited for the kettle to boil I leaned on the work surface and gazed out of the kitchen window. The summer sun was rising in a cloudless sky, promising a fine day. Birds were already busy at the bird feeder, while others were pecking insects from the shrubs and lawn.

  I poured a mug of coffee and then, opening the back door, I took it outside to drink. The air was fresh but not chilly, so I sat on the bench on the patio and enjoyed the early-morning calm at the start of what was likely to be another stressful day. I glanced up at Zeena’s bedroom window. Her curtains were drawn and her small window was open as she liked it at night to let in the air. It was all quiet.

  As I didn’t know what time Zeena would be going to make her statement I thought we should be showered and dressed ready just in case it was early, so after I’d finished my coffee I went indoors and then upstairs to wake her. I passed Lucy on the stairs coming down and in a hurry as usual.

  ‘Bye, Mum,’ she called, blowing me a kiss as she passed.

  ‘Bye, love. Have a good day.’ I braced myself for the inevitable door slam and I wasn’t disappointed.

  I went round the landing and knocked on Zeena’s bedroom door. A sleepy voice replied, ‘Yes?’

  ‘It’s Cathy, love. Can I come in?’

  ‘Yes,’ she replied groggily.

  Her room was lit by the morning sun coming through the curtains.

  ‘Hello, love. Did you manage to get some sleep?’ I asked, standing beside her bed.

  She rubbed her eyes. ‘A little, thanks. Did you?’

  ‘I did. There’s no rush, but as we don’t know what time you’ll be going to see Norma I think you should get up in reasonable time. Shall I go in the bathroom first or do you want to? It’s just gone eight o’clock.’

  ‘You go first,’ she said. ‘I’ll go down and get a drink.’

  ‘All right, love.’ I came out and closed her door.

  Paula had just come out of the bathroom and I said goodbye to her before I went in.

  ‘I should hear about the summer job soon,�
� she said. ‘If a letter arrives for me will you text me?’

  ‘Yes, I will.’

  I showered and dressed and then checked Adrian was awake. That morning the three of us had breakfast together – a first for a weekday, as I was usually taking Zeena to school at this time. Adrian knew Zeena was leaving us soon but he didn’t know the extent of the abuse she’d suffered. Zeena had felt comfortable confiding in Paula and Lucy as women, but understandably not Adrian, a young man of twenty-two. After breakfast he left for work, and then just before ten o’clock the landline rang. I answered it where I was in the hall. It was Tara and she began by asking how Zeena was.

  ‘Very brave and trying to stay positive,’ I said.

  ‘Norma can take Zeena’s statement at twelve o’clock,’ Tara continued. ‘I’ll collect her at eleven-thirty and take her to the police station, so there is no need for you to come. I’ll bring her home after, although I don’t know what time. Can you tell Zeena for me?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ I then told her about the letter that had been pushed through our letterbox the evening before.

  ‘How very worrying,’ Tara said. ‘Norma said it was only a matter of time before they found out where Zeena was staying. I’ll take the letter with me when I collect Zeena and give it to Norma.’

  ‘All right, I’ll tell Zeena.’

  We said goodbye and I went through to where Zeena was sitting in the living room with a book and told her of the arrangements. Unsurprisingly she immediately grew anxious.

  ‘I really don’t want to make this statement,’ she said. ‘I’m trying to forget what happened, but I’ll have to go through it all again and in a lot of detail.’

  ‘I know it’s difficult,’ I said. ‘But Tara will be with you. And Norma is so kind. She’s used to taking statements from young people and children who have suffered. I’m sure she’ll be sensitive to your feelings. And you only have to make the statement once, then it’s over with. It’s important you do it.’

  ‘I know,’ Zeena said despondently. ‘But then there’ll be a court case and I’ll have to go through it all again, and in front of my father and the other men!’

  I knew that many child-abuse cases never made it to court because the young person couldn’t go through with the ordeal. I took Zeena’s hand in mine as I tried to reassure her.

  ‘I’m almost certain you will be able to give evidence in court without having to see your father or the other men,’ I said. ‘Ask Norma, but I think at your age you can sit behind a screen in court or give evidence via a live television link.’

  This seemed to reassure her a little, but nevertheless it was a huge trauma. And, of course, it would be many months before the case went to court, giving Zeena plenty of time to worry and possibly back out. I kept her busy for the rest of the morning; she helped me in the kitchen and then we hung the washing on the line to dry. I didn’t want to start packing her cases until we had a definite day and time for her leaving, as it would be even more unsettling to be surrounded by packed cases with nowhere definite to go.

  We returned to the garden and I enlisted her help in pruning a shrub.

  ‘You’ve got a lovely garden,’ she said.

  ‘Thank you. I like gardening.’ The top part of the garden had flower-beds, lawn and tubs on the patio, while the bottom part was dedicated to children’s play: mainly lawn, no flowers to damage, and swings, a climbing frame and mini goal post for football.

  ‘It’s very peaceful out here,’ Zeena said.

  ‘It is now, but you want to hear it when I am fostering young children,’ I said, with a smile. ‘They run wild here, but that’s OK. Children need to run and let off steam. So do adults sometimes.’

  ‘I know that feeling,’ she said. ‘Sometimes I feel I’m about to explode. Perhaps I should start running around the garden.’

  ‘Feel free,’ I said, and, laughing, we both went for a jog around the garden.

  At 11.45 a.m. I said we should go indoors so we could hear the front doorbell ring when Tara arrived.

  ‘I’d rather stay out here,’ Zeena said, reluctant to leave the peace and tranquillity of the garden for the upsetting task that awaited her.

  ‘I understand, love, but you won’t be away too long, and then you can come out here again when you return. We could have dinner out here if it stays fine.’

  ‘That sounds good,’ she said.

  Very reluctantly she put down the spade she’d been using to help me and followed me indoors. We washed our hands at the sink in the kitchen and I made us a cold drink. She didn’t want anything to eat. I reminded her she needed to take the letter from her father with her and she fetched it from her bedroom. Thankfully, Tara arrived on time so Zeena wasn’t left waiting with more time to grow anxious.

  ‘How are you?’ Tara asked Zeena.

  ‘Nervous,’ Zeena admitted, and handed her the letter.

  ‘Thank you. Try not to worry, you’ll be fine,’ Tara said. Then to me, ‘We’ll see you later then.’

  Zeena gave me a big hug before she left and I watched them go. I knew Tara appreciated how anxious Zeena was and that she would take good care of her, but it didn’t stop me from worrying. I returned to the garden and occupied myself in doing jobs I’d been putting off for some time: weeding and cleaning the bird feeder and patio furniture. But even though I was busy, my thoughts kept returning to Zeena and the statement she was having to make, detailing the abuse she’d suffered. As the afternoon wore on I also grew concerned that she hadn’t had anything to eat since breakfast and must be hungry.

  No letter had arrived for Paula that day about work and at four o’clock she returned home from sixth form. She, too, had been thinking about Zeena, concerned as to how she was getting on. I said I didn’t think she would be too long now and that I was planning on eating outside. She liked the idea and helped me choose and then prepare suitable dishes: quiches, rice, salads and garlic bread.

  At 4.45 we were both relieved when the doorbell rang.

  ‘That’ll be Zeena,’ I said, and I rushed down the hall to answer it.

  Tara and Zeena both looked exhausted, and I could see that Zeena had been crying.

  ‘She’s done very well,’ Tara said. ‘Norma said she’s a very brave young lady.’

  Zeena went down the hall to find Paula.

  ‘Are you coming in?’ I asked Tara.

  ‘No, I can’t,’ she said. ‘I’m seeing Zeena’s siblings at five o’clock. I’m late now.’ I nodded. ‘Norma hasn’t found a safe house yet for Zeena,’ Tara continued. ‘But she’s still looking and hopes to find something soon. She’ll phone you as soon as she has something suitable. In the meantime we’ve both agreed that Zeena shouldn’t go out at all.’

  ‘I understand,’ I said.

  We said goodbye and I joined Paula and Zeena in the kitchen. Zeena didn’t want to talk about what had happened and immersed herself in helping with the evening meal. Paula and I didn’t mention it either. We waited until Lucy was home before we ate; unfortunately Adrian wouldn’t be home until much later. The girls and I took the dishes, plates and cutlery outside and set them on the patio table, together with a jug of water and glasses. The air was warm, with only the slightest breeze – Lucy commented that it felt as though we were on holiday. My family and I love eating outside, and I find food tastes so much better in the fresh air. Zeena was hungry, so was I, and I realized that I‘d been so preoccupied worrying about Zeena that I’d forgotten to have lunch. We chatted as we ate and also laughed; there was a light-heartedness in our conversation that hadn’t been there for some time. Once we’d finished we took the dinner things into the kitchen and then returned to the garden. Lucy, Paula and Zeena ran to the bottom of the garden and amid lots of squeals of delight began playing on the apparatus and swings. I’ve never known a teenager yet – regardless of how sophisticated they believe they are – who didn’t enjoy the children’s play equipment.

  I fetched my camera from indoors and took some photograph
s of the three of them playing, a copy of which I’d give to Zeena. Usually I take lots of photographs of the children I foster, but with all the secrecy and security surrounding Zeena it hadn’t been appropriate. Nor had there been much opportunity for days out, when I would have normally taken photographs. When the girls tired of the apparatus they got the bats and balls out of the shed. It was lovely to see Zeena playing and having fun as a child should, and I took more photographs. Then Zeena said she’d like a photograph of Lucy, Paula and me, so we posed with the garden as the backdrop. We continued with a game of doubles badminton and at nine o’clock Adrian arrived home, called hello through the open patio doors and then brought his plate of food into the garden. I joined him on the patio and we chatted as he ate while the girls continued playing on the lawn. The sun began to set, so I fetched some tea lights, which I lit and arranged around the patio. The effect was enchanting and quite magical.

  ‘I’ve got Friday and the weekend off work,’ Adrian said as we continued talking. ‘I’m thinking of going away with Kirsty, my girlfriend, to the coast.’

  ‘Oh, very nice,’ I said. ‘Will I meet her soon?’

  He nodded. ‘I’ll bring her here first before we leave.’

  ‘I look forward to meeting her. And Adrian –’ I began, my voice growing serious.

  ‘Yes, I know, Mum,’ he said, aware of the lecture that was to follow. ‘I’ll be careful.’

  I didn’t have to say any more. Without a live-in dad to have those father–son talks, I had fulfilled that role. Adrian was a healthy young man, so it was naïve to pretend that at some point he wouldn’t be having a physical relationship with his partner. Whether it had reached that stage yet with Kirsty I didn’t know, and it was none of my business, but I knew Adrian would treat her with respect and consideration.