The Consequence of Love

by Sandra Howard

  Hugo’s arm was round her shoulders as they said the goodbyes. Star and her mother were the last to leave. ‘I don’t approve of out-of-date food,’ Star’s mum said. ‘That child had a piece of birthday cake too, which is gluten rich.’

  ‘I’m not her keeper,’ Nattie snapped, losing control. ‘I think she’ll live.’

  Hugo saw them out, Star tripping happily down the path. He closed the door and hugged Nattie tight. ‘We did it,’ he said. ‘We made it through the day!’

  30

  Sadia’s Coup

  Nattie left the Buckley Building with Hugo on her mind. She was on her way to keep her date with Sadia and her sister and set off for the coffee shop, pleased to be out of the fuggy office and breathing in the crisp still air. It was a rain-free day at last. Heavy drops had clattered onto the car roof on the way home from Lily’s party and it had rained all Sunday and Monday.

  She was impatient to hear how Sadia had won through and rescued her sister from the forced marriage. It was hard to imagine how she could have pulled it off. Sadia had been tearful and nervous that day at lunch, about to leave for Pakistan on what Nattie had been convinced was a dangerous and doomed mission. But she’d sounded radiantly happy on her return, calling to say she’d succeeded and her sister was with her. It was amazing news. Nattie was thrilled for them and, with Hugo uppermost in her thoughts, it seemed a positive amidst all the negatives.

  She was disturbed by her mother’s news about Bosphor Air, injured and irritated that when Hugo had every opportunity on the morning of Lily’s party to tell her about winning the account, he’d chosen to keep it for Victoria. Nattie knew she was on weak ground to be minding; his keenness to shut her out was understandable and he’d been distressingly hyped-up that day as well – but wouldn’t that simply have made him keener to brag a little and talk up his success? It was hurtful. She would have liked to have made a few suggestions and bolster him up.

  She worried about him handling the Bosphor account. He may well have seemed thoughtful, deep, good-looking, an elegant Englishman who’d charm the travel writers and be good for Bosphor Air; it was a great new piece of business for Tyler Consulting – but too important to be entrusted to Hugo in his present condition. Nattie feared he’d lose confidence and botch it. He needed warm encouragement at the best of times.

  She imagined he was just about getting by with his regular clients; they were familiar, comparatively easy-going, and Christine must be in a rare accommodating mood after Cupcake Corner’s glory moment in the sun. Not Brady. Hugo’s bleary eyes and hyper mood-swings can’t have passed his chairman by. The least slip and Brady would be merciless; it was surprising he hadn’t kicked him out already. There was no shortage of ambitious back-stabbers in the firm either. Nattie sighed. She had her own problems.

  Arriving at the coffee shop, she found that Sadia and Alesha were there already, seated at a table in the window. They jumped up to welcome her and Sadia gave her a hug.

  ‘This is Alesha,’ she said with fond sisterly pride. ‘I’m so glad you can meet.’

  ‘It’s your great triumph that we can do,’ Nattie said, with a wide smile.

  The girls were as alike as twins, despite the six-year age gap, the same oval-shaped face and small-boned slenderness, although Alesha was taller and looked the more spirited of the two – as though she had more of a sense of fun. She was wearing Western clothes, a safe black skirt, light blue sweater and no head covering; her thick, dark, shoulder-length hair was loose, tucked behind her ears. It was hard to believe she’d been living in a strictly religious household so recently, policed and confined, about to be forced into marriage.

  ‘Your father must be incredibly relieved to have you both safely home,’ Nattie said, as they settled in. ‘He’ll have been worried sick these past weeks, I’m sure. I suppose you could only get a visitor’s visa?’ she wondered, struck by the thought and worrying suddenly that their euphoria could only be short-lived.

  ‘No,’ Sadia said, gleefully, ‘Alesha’s able to stay. I can’t believe we did it and are really here!’

  ‘So tell all.’ Nattie looked from one happy girl to the other.

  ‘I stayed in a hotel, but visited the house often,’ Sadia said. ‘I was terrified the first time, expecting our mother to be difficult, but it was nearly ten years since she’d seen me and I’d hoped she might actually give me a hug. She didn’t, she was just really cold and suspicious. Even the house was unwelcoming, a two-storey block with a high white wall, nothing like our lovely old home in Lahore. I needed to persuade her that I hadn’t come to make trouble, though, so I put on a show of going along with everything and said I’d really wanted to have a little time with Alesha, a few sisterly moments before the big day.’

  ‘Your mother must have known how Alesha felt about the marriage, which I can see would have made it more credible that you’d want to be there,’ Nattie remarked, ‘as a shoulder for her to cry on.’

  Alesha nodded eagerly. ‘Sadia was brilliant. Like they say here, she played a blinder – she should be in Bollywood. She criticised arranged marriages, just to be believable, and argued with our mother, sticking out her chin and saying why shouldn’t the girl have an equal say in a decision that was for life?’

  ‘And how did your mother react to that?’ Nattie asked wryly.

  ‘She flew into a furious rage, pouring out venom and screaming that Sadia should be punished for daring to question what was pure and good.’

  ‘It was okay, more or less,’ Sadia said. ‘I wasn’t given a beating. I’d often wondered, though, whether she’d ever regretted leaving Dad, given our stepfather’s views, but Alesha says not.’

  ‘No, she’s as radical and judgemental as he is, a leading light in a community that spends all its time gossiping, stigmatising and forcing girls into loveless marriages.’

  ‘Things are improving,’ Sadia said in a lawyerly way, trying to flag up the positive. ‘Our mother and stepfather live in Rawalpindi, which is huge and modern – historical too, it was an important base in the British Raj – and the majority of people living there have a more enlightened and rational outlook on life these days.’

  ‘Go on.’ Nattie sneaked a look at her watch. She was only on a coffee break. ‘However did you win through with the passport and visa?’

  ‘I’ve never been more frightened in my life,’ Alesha said. ‘Our stepfather kept my passport in a locked cabinet, thankfully not in a safe with a code, but he put his keys in a bowl on his bedside table at night, right beside him, and I had to creep into the bedroom, take the whole bunch and find the key to the cabinet . . .’ She shuddered, remembering.

  ‘I was in such a panicky sweat, I left damp toe-prints on the lino in the hall. The bedroom was carpeted, though, and so was the room with the cabinet. That helped, but I had to return the bunch too, which was an even worse agony really.’

  ‘I dread to think what they’d have done to you if they’d woken up,’ Nattie said, feeling a shiver pass through her, and Sadia reached across the table for her sister’s hand.

  She turned then with a smile. ‘We have you to thank for the visa, Nattie. It was your fantastic help, telling me about the forced marriage unit that allowed me to win through with the visa. Without that, Alesha’s bravery would have been in vain. She was due to be married this week.

  ‘I’d needed Alesha to smuggle out her passport, but I still had to get it to the British High Commission in Islamabad, which is only half an hour from Rawalpindi – the airport is too – and do what I could about the visa.

  ‘I called the unit with little hope. It was set up to help rescue British citizen girls, after all, and Alesha didn’t qualify. I asked to speak to the man whose name you’d given me, but they said he wasn’t there. I begged them to pass on my mobile number, but didn’t hear anything more. I was really despondent. Then just as I was setting off miserably for the British High Commission, he called! He said he was in Islamabad and would be happy to accompany me and press m
y case.

  ‘He even queued with me for hours. He carried clout and my father being a British citizen and having a good job helped too; the officials eventually agreed to grant Alesha a visa with exceptional leave to remain. I was crying tears of joy. We were able to get the application expedited as well, and I collected the passport the very next day.’

  ‘But however did you manage to get Alesha to the airport and out of the country?’

  ‘I’d thought the Mehndi ceremony would be our best chance to make our escape,’ Sadia said. ‘I had it all planned.’

  ‘Tell me about the Mehndi ceremony.’

  ‘In Pakistan an arranged marriage is a long-drawn-out process. There’s the proposal party when the groom’s parents and family elders formally ask the girl’s parents for her hand and rings are exchanged. The groom’s mother or sister puts the ring on the girl’s finger and vice versa, never any contact between the couple. There’s a sort of musical celebration called the Dholki, when a whole lot of women come to the bride’s house and sing and dance, then just before the wedding day there’s the henna ceremony, which is called the Mehndi.

  ‘It’s a women’s event and the concept of the beauty parlour is pretty big in Pakistan so Alesha’s henna party was being held in town. The women bring along sweets and gifts and put henna on the bride’s hands and feet – it’s often done by professionals using beautiful decorative designs. Traditionally the bride’s mother and family don’t attend, the groom’s side arrange it all, but the Mehndi has become more elastic and I’d been allowed to go. I was under strict instructions to order a cab and see that Alesha arrived home by the appointed time.’

  ‘And the cab was your chance, when you were going to make a run for it? You had the passports, airline tickets?’

  ‘Yes, secreted in my underwear just in case someone snooped in my bag. I had two small online cases waiting at the hotel where I’d been staying, mine and one for Alesha – I’d worried that travelling with no bags at all could have drawn attention. We left as soon as we could, picked up the cases and taxied on to the airport. Our combined adrenalin would have fuelled that cab all the way there!’

  ‘Waiting for take-off was like anticipating an axe falling on our necks,’ Alesha said. ‘We couldn’t believe the plane would leave on time; it was a night flight and they’re more often delayed than not. And once our mother and stepfather discovered the missing passport – well, that would have been it! They’d have seen Sadia into jail for attempted kidnap or something, I’d have been beaten or worse and married off. It was truly like waiting for the torturer to arrive.’

  Alesha’s hand, loosely looped round her cappuccino cup, still bore the faint remains of the henna designs and Nattie wondered if they’d caused comment at the airport.

  ‘I was anxious about them being a giveaway,’ Sadia said, ‘but Alesha kept her hands covered with floaty veils as far as possible. I prayed that our mother and stepfather would imagine an accident or street attack or something, and wouldn’t think of checking on the passport right away. I told Alesha that, but only half believed it myself. The tension was unbearable, showing our passports, waiting for alarms to be raised. I still can’t really believe we’re here!’

  ‘Our dad is seriously worried about repercussions,’ Alesha said, ‘with all the wedding preparations, the shock and outrage, loss of honour. He’s had abusive calls, terrible threats; the police even visited, saying complaints had been made. Dad told them I hadn’t taken anything and he couldn’t see anything criminal in a girl changing her mind before the wedding. It happened. They had to agree.’

  ‘He’s made us rent a flat on this side of London,’ said Sadia, ‘and he’s going to move too. We’d rather be here all the same, watching our backs, than see Alesha forced to be the wife of a cousin on our mother’s side.’

  ‘Sadia’s even more at risk than I am,’ her sister said, ‘because of her book.’

  Nattie congratulated her on how well it was doing and Sadia looked delighted. ‘I told Alesha about pouring out all my private troubles that day you interviewed me about it,’ she said. ‘You were so warm and sympathetic and we’d only just met.’

  ‘You were sympathetic too,’ Nattie smiled, ‘when I embarrassingly mentioned the man I’d loved – talking about myself, the very last thing an interviewer should do. It was your lowered eyelashes: they made me think of him.’

  Sadia didn’t know where to look.

  ‘I really felt for you,’ she said. ‘You were married and had a family, but to have been in love with a man who’d disappeared, it was easy to see you still cared. So hard for you, not knowing what had happened, even if he was still alive.’

  Nattie felt ashamed. ‘I should get back,’ she mumbled, making a show of looking at her watch. She sat up straighter and let it out. ‘But I do know what happened now. You see, I heard from him, that very same day, right after we’d had lunch. He’s here, seven years on, back in the country and safe. I’m with him now, ruining my husband’s life.’

  She stared from one girl to the other; they still had their problems, but they weren’t tied, they were free to live their lives. Tears welled. She felt more ashamed than ever, and angry with herself. It was the pregnancy, her hormones playing up.

  Both girls put out a hand to hers, a simultaneous gesture; Nattie was kneading her hands, elbows on the table.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, recovering. ‘I’m in rather an overwrought state, and late too. I have to go. It’s just that everything’s coming to a head in my life. I have to make an impossible decision and there’s nothing worse than hurting someone you love. One I love too much, the other, not quite enough.’

  She stood up hurriedly and managed a wan grin. ‘This is awful, baring my soul when I should be back at my desk. You must please forgive me. I’m so happy for you both. Call any time if I can ever be of help.’

  Sadia and Alesha came out with her. They stood on the pavement saying their goodbyes and offering encouragement.

  ‘It’s hard, isn’t it,’ Sadia said, giving her another hug, ‘the pull of duties and ties?’

  ‘I’d just go with your heart,’ Alesha said, seventeen and free as air.

  Sadia gave her a firm elder-sister’s look. ‘Nattie will do what is right; we should let her make her own decisions – and get back to the office. We mustn’t hold her up a minute longer.’

  Nattie smiled, nodded in a vague sort of way, and set off down the street at a clop. Her back was turned, her eyes brimming over again, but when she thought of all the girls less lucky than Alesha, denied rights, distressed, dominated, she felt humble. Was there anything more precious in life than the freedom to make one’s own decisions?

  31

  Mother and Daughter

  Victoria looked down at her phone again and re-read Nattie’s text.

  Can I see you, Mum? I need to talk. What’s best for you in next couple of days? Around five tomorrow, after work, or Friday’s good, except for picking up Lily. Ahmed will look after Tubsy, then both of them in the afternoon.

  Victoria clicked off and went to stand at the kitchen window. She was tired, just in from a long busy day, and stared out through the glass. The garden was cloaked in blackness, but with the bright light from the kitchen she could make out shape and form. Was it crunch time? Had Nattie made her decision?

  Five o’clock tomorrow would be best. Victoria didn’t feel especially happy about Ahmed looking after the children – not that he wasn’t responsible, probably more so than Hugo as things were; it was just a feeling they were getting too close to him. It must be so painful for their father. She sighed. They were into December already, with the whole business of Christmas coming up – and what was Nattie going to do about that?

  She texted Nattie back.

  Sorry, busy Friday, let’s go for five tomorrow? Hope nothing too serious. Be lovely to see you, darling.

  She got on with the evening, cooked, did a few chores, tried to still her mind. William called. ‘On my way, so
rry!’ He never made it by the appointed time.

  ‘A bit less late than usual,’ Victoria said, trying to be cheerful when he came in. ‘I’m glad I factored in an extra twenty minutes’ cooking time.’

  He kissed her. ‘Perfect synchronisation then.’

  They sat down to supper and she mentioned Nattie’s text.

  ‘I don’t want to worry you,’ William said, pouring her a glass of wine, ‘I’m sure Ahmed isn’t really in much danger, but a couple of the lesser players, Iqbal and Haroon, are up for release. He was at school with these guys and Harehills may be part of Leeds, but it’s as tight-closed as any small village community you’ll get. It will hardly have been popular there that Ahmed broke rank. He’s a hero with us, but back there, it’s not like he’s an old boy who made good. There’s the honour thing too. It’s not great, those two snivelling shitholes coming out.

  ‘Remember Yazid, the thicko ringleader of that small cell?’ William carried on. ‘He’s still inside, but there’s also Shelby, of course, that little cunt, who’s got a score or two to settle and he’s been throwing his weight around again for some time now, weaselling his way into the clubs and doing the social scene.’

  ‘God, Shelby,’ Victoria said. William was doing a poor job of not worrying her. ‘I had enough stress over Nattie’s fling with him. He had it in for Ahmed back then all right. Remember the time he came to the house trying to persuade me that Ahmed was in with the terrorists? I saw him off with a flea in his ear, though Nattie would never believe it. I can hardly blame her, it was just at the time when the Home Office and MI5 were checking Ahmed out.’ Victoria felt sorrowful, remembering the pulls of loyalty and immense stressfulness of the job.

  ‘I’ve often wondered,’ she said, ‘whether it was Shelby who fed Hugo his drugs. I expect you know, don’t you? You, the Post, set Shelby up pretty successfully with that entrapment ring, after all, and got him put away.’