I’d like to tell Mrs Leadbitter at school that I think I’m going to be forced to marry. She’s really nice, but what would she do? I’m scared she won’t believe me, or worse, she goes and talks to the Diversity Officer for advice.
I’ve decided I’m going to run. I don’t know where yet, but I have to run. Aisha was scared she was going to be married when we went to India to see our grandparents. Me? I’m scared I’ll be married and left there.
I can’t run from here. They all watch me like a hawk, especially Baljit. He’s the worst. I can understand my mother. She came here to marry my dad and never integrated. If you ask her, she probably hates it here. My dad just wants a quiet life so he does what my mother tells him, even if he has to look like he’s always in charge. But Baljit? He was born here but goes on like he’s a Freshie, talking about Izzat. Him and Uncle Gurmej. He’s horrible. Aisha was always saying how he gave her the creeps. I think I know what she meant. I’ve started to notice him watching me, like a dirty old man perving over young lasses.
So I know I have to run from school. We get an hour for lunch. That’s when I have to go. Get a head start, before anyone knows I’ve gone, before my mother and the whole neighbourhood come looking for me.
I know if I get caught it will be big trouble. I’ll never see England again. To have one daughter run away is shameful, but two? My mother would never get over it.
So I have one chance. I cannot waste it and I cannot take anything with me. I have to go in the clothes I’m wearing. I know I have to run. I just don’t know where.
‘Bloody hell,’ Sam said as she and Ed bent down. ‘Gone six already.’ A mounting pile of discarded foliage and branches were stacked up near them, Julie Trescothick making it grow ever higher.
‘A little early for Bonfire Night,’ Ed said.
‘Thought I’d take some cuttings for the garden,’ Julie didn’t miss a beat.
Ed smiled. ‘Touche.’
‘You’ll get a better view of the body now,’ Julie told them as Sam and Ed took a couple of steps forward. It was impossible to tell whether the body had been thrown or rolled into the stream, impossible because the undergrowth had grown back. What was obvious was that the water had preserved the lower part of the body. The corpse was laid on its back, but from the waist down it was completely submerged in flowing water, not a torrent, but not a trickle either.
‘I don’t know how full this stream gets,’ Julie said. ‘But the slope of the land and those floods in January won’t have seen it dry up.’
The face had almost vanished.
Ed, hands on knees, started to hum an Elton John song from the Lion King movie.
Sam swivelled her head, scrunching her brow. ‘Any reason why that song?’
‘Circle of life,’ Ed said. ‘He’s dead but he’s fed others.’
Sam shook her head. ‘Bloody hell, Ed, only you could bring Walt Disney to a rotting corpse.’
She turned to the SOCO chief. ‘Julie, do what you need to do here, photos, and we’ll do the rest at the mortuary. We’ll search his clothing there as well. I’ll arrange a fingertip search once you’ve finished but I’m not hopeful. Jim’s on his way, so we’ll wait for him.’
‘Have you considered anybody else Sam?’ Julie said.
‘Forensic Anthropologist?’ Sam understood. ‘I’ll speak with Jim. We might need to involve one at some stage.’
‘What a job,’ Ed joined in. ‘Trying to work out how long somebody’s been dead from the state of maggots in the body.’
Sam dismissed Ed’s throwaway line, well aware of the skills the scientists could bring to the table, even when they were faced with nothing more than a skeleton.
‘I’ve known them be spectacularly wrong,’ Sam said. ‘But they can get it right and they can aid in identification.’
She straightened up. ‘And you know my maxim.’
‘Surround yourself with experts,’ Ed said.
Sam nodded. ‘Too right... scientific, search, interviewers... whoever. If it progresses the job, I’m all for them.’
She stopped and answered her ringing phone. It was the DI from Devon. Sam listened.
‘Great. Thanks. Look, I’ll speak later. I’m just about to go into a meeting.’
She ended the call.
‘Their undercover op in Plymouth has finished,’ Sam said. ‘The UC will provide a statement identifying Baljit as taking Sukhi’s car into the garage.’
Sam and Ed both turned as Jim Melia walked towards them.
‘This should at least provide the literary festival with a start for any creative writers’ workshop,’ Jim said.
He then imitated the clipped tones of an aristocratic thespian. ‘The decomposing body of a man was found in the grounds of a stately home, continue.’
He had a paper and pencil in his hand, ready to make a rough sketch. ‘So where is he?’
Sam, still holding her phone, realised she had an answer-phone message.
Seconds later she was listening to Bev’s urgent voice, then moved away and made a call.
‘I’ve been trying to get hold of you,’ Bev told her. ‘Amber said her hammer was in a toolbox in her downstairs loo but I’ve searched and it’s not there. She’s not had a break-in so I got her to write down everyone who’s been in her house in the last couple of months. It’s not a long list but her study group, four of them, met there on the day Glen was murdered. One name jumped out.’
Sam felt an adrenaline kick. ‘Who?’
‘Baljit Bhandal.’
Chapter Fifty-One
Where’ve they all gone? What was their rush?
‘Wait here,’ my mother shouted to me. ‘Do not leave the house.’
Typical. The only time I’m left where I can pack a few clothes and I’m not ready yet. Will I ever be ready?
I turn on the TV, open the sour cream and onion Pringles, stretch out on the settee, and channel hop through boring news and quiz shows.
I miss Aisha. I hope she’s happy. I wonder whether she’s somewhere with that lad. I don’t know him but I hope he’s okay.
I’m outside now, sat on top of Dad’s new garden shed. Why did he want a shed? He doesn’t do gardening. Not that we’ve got much garden anyway. It’s all paved over now, same as Uncle Gurmej’s. He’s got a new shed as well. They both got them the same day, thinking about it, not long after Aisha ran away. Maybe they’re going to make some of that illegal booze. What do they call it? Desi. Indian firewater.
But something’s definitely happening today. They’re all panicking. No, it’s more than that. They’re shitting it. I love that phrase. Nobody’s ever heard me say it, though. I wouldn’t dare. That would have me whisked off to India on the next flight. Punjabi Airways: speedy passage for overly Western girls.
Here’s the rain. Typical. I’ve not been left alone since Aisha went. As soon as I get the chance to do something I would never be allowed to do, climb on to the shed roof, it rains.
I spoon the Dahl out of the pan. It’s good. My mother’s a good cook. So am I. That was her mission in her life. Make sure her girls can cook.
There’s still nothing on the TV, just people you’ve never heard of interviewing people you’ve heard of even less.
The house is so quiet.
I know where the squeaks on the stairs are. I can get up and down in total silence. Aisha could as well. I know Baljit can. He sneaks in when he’s been clubbing. Hypocrite. Tells me not to look at men, look at the floor, only speak when I’m spoken to, do what he says all the time, and there’s him clubbing, ogling all the white girls.
He always gets his own way. Do you think I’ll get a car like he did? No chance. I didn’t even get a bike when we were kids. He did. Golden child. I had to count myself lucky I got a pair of roller skates. Lucky me.
I try one of the doors upstairs. I cannot remember the last time it was unlocked.
That multi-coloured spread on my mother’s bed is so tacky. And so heavy. She must sweat like a pig. Proba
bly stops my dad trying to have sex with her. Oh that’s gross.
She keeps the passports in her bedside drawer.
There they are. I grab them. All there except for Aisha’s. Did she take it with her?
Now I can see the plane tickets. Heathrow to New Delhi. Four tickets. Must be the trip to see our grandparents. Here’s mine. I quickly compare it to the ones for Mam, Dad and Baljit.
My hands are shaking.
I read them again. Check them again.
Mine’s one way.
Why?
I don’t want to answer. There’s only one reason.
I run out of the room, slam my bedroom door behind me and sit on the edge of my bed. I’d chew my fingernails if my hands weren’t shaking as much.
Then the front door slams shut.
Sonia Mitchell heard Parkash shout. ‘Mia! Mia!’
Footsteps on the stairs.
A heavy silence.
Whatever was happening, Sonia couldn’t hear.
More shouting from Parkash. ‘Davinder! Davinder! Come here!’
‘What is it?’
Footsteps running up the stairs.
Silence again.
Sonia breathed deeply, held her breath. What was happening in that house? Every possible scenario flew through her head and almost all of them ended badly.
Wait or act? Sit back or send someone in?
The silent seconds felt like hours. Sonia was in NASA control centre, that nail-biting period of radio silence waiting for the astronauts to re-enter the earth’s atmosphere.
Give it a few more seconds. How many?
Her ears were straining that hard she felt they would start to bleed.
Footsteps.
Sonia stiffened. Took another slow, huge lungful of air.
Running water; a pan or a kettle being filled?
Someone was downstairs.
‘Sit down, sweetheart.’ It was Parkash again. ‘What were you doing in our bedroom?’
Sonia exhaled, bowed her head. Thank God for that.
She had ‘ears again’.
‘You’re not in trouble,’ said Parkash. ‘But I see you’ve seen our surprise.’ Her voice was full of compassion, no anger.
‘What surprise?’ Mia shuffled on the seat. She’d left the passports on the bed.
‘That we’re letting you stay with your grandparents all summer. We can only go there for three weeks but we thought you might want to spend all the holidays with Papa-ji.’
Silence.
‘You always said you wanted to, didn’t you? Stay with grandad?’
‘Yes but…’
‘But what, darling?’ More soothing tones.
‘My ticket is only one way.’
‘And you thought… Well, I don’t know what you thought.’ Parkash started to laugh. ‘Come here, little one. You thought we were going to leave you? Is that it?’
Silence. Maybe a nod from Mia, thought Sonia.
‘Don’t get upset, little one. Of course we weren’t going to leave you.'
‘We would never do that, Mia.’ It was Bhandal. ‘You can only book tickets so far in advance. We couldn’t get you a return. Nearer the time we’ll get you one and send it.’
‘I thought you were going to leave me there because of Aisha.’
‘Aisha has shamed us.’ It was the mother, voice full of scorn. ‘She has run away and now I cannot look at anybody in the Gurdwara. She has betrayed us. But you... ’ her tone changed, quiet, melodic. ‘You have done nothing wrong. You’re a good girl. We just want you to be happy.’
Sonia Mitchell had heard enough.
‘Get the boss on the phone,’ she told her colleague. ‘She needs to know about this.’
I’m back upstairs now. I don’t know what to believe. I want to believe them. You don’t want to think your parents are going to leave you in a dusty village in the middle of nowhere where running water is a luxury, to marry a bloke old enough to be your dad, do you?
But I never thought they’d force Aisha to run away.
That guy was coming here to marry Aisha. Once he’d done that, his parents would come over and Aisha would be running the house surrounded by Freshies. And when I say ‘running’, I mean waiting on them hand and foot. Who could blame her for not wanting that life?
But it could be even worse for me. I might be left there. My ticket was one way, and I know Bethany’s grandma goes to Benidorm for six weeks in January and she must get a return ticket because she hasn’t got a computer. She can’t remember it’s called the Internet, never mind use it.
At least here Aisha could have had the TV or radio on in the background. Over there? You must be joking. I’m not talking Delhi or Mumbai or Goa. I’m talking a small village in the Punjab.
Drive down to the supermarket? We’ve done the Tudors at school. It would be like Henry VIII asking one of his courtiers to pop into Tesco for a couple of wild boar steaks for tonight’s banquet.
Grandad’s rich by their standards – he has a tractor, even if it’s old. Loads of them still use an ox and plough.
Car? You’re doing well if you have a moped.
The people all seem happy, but they don’t know any different. My mother yearns to go back because she never settled here, never integrated. But me? Aisha? We’re different. We know nothing other than this... England, and all the technology and convenience that go with it.
Honestly, if you went there, you’d feel like a time traveller. Going backwards obviously.
Would they really leave me there?
Chapter Fifty-Two
Sam wiped egg mayo from the side of her mouth and reached down into the foot well of the car for a tissue.
‘Wonder how Jim’s getting on at that other job in Newcastle? Kiddie murders. Never good.’
She wiped her fingers. ‘Our body can wait for his PM until tomorrow. Gives us a bit more time to concentrate on the Bhandal family.’
Ed, sitting behind the wheel, gulped from the plastic bottle of Fanta – no Pepsi in the shop - before answering. ‘We’ll need it.’
‘Yeah, but don’t you just love it when a plan comes together? ’ Sam said. ‘The whole bloody family captured on a digital photograph behind the blue tape. Even the uncle.’
‘Uh huh,’ Ed said.
‘I want to get Mia to a Place of Safety tonight,’ Sam went on. ‘I know they’ll not take her on a plane tonight, but I don’t want to give Carver or anyone else the opportunity to say there was no risk otherwise we’d have acted sooner.’
She dropped the tissue. ‘Then tomorrow I want to start on the application for a Forced Marriage Protection Order. Bev and Paul Adams can meet us after Bev’s bailed Elliott and Tracey. Amber’s never been arrested so she can just be allowed to go. If we need to get them back in, so be it.’
‘What do you want to do about the rest of Aisha’s family?’
Sam paused, thinking it through.
‘Baljit can be arrested tonight. He’s hidden the car. The UC will identify him. Lock Baljit up on suspicion of theft of a motor vehicle. Recover his shoes. Every pair. Leave the parents and the uncle to stew. See what tomorrow brings. There’ll be the PM, a press conference and no doubt a bit of grief from Jill Carver.’
Ed told Sam to make her calls while he drove.
‘Tell Bev we’ll rendezvous at Morrisons, the big one on Newcastle Road. Get some uniform back-up there. We’ll need transport for Baljit and Mia. And tell them in the LP to keep their ears open.’
Ed knocked on the Bhandals’ front door. Sam, Bev and Paul stood behind.
Baljit opened the door. ‘What the fuck do you lot want now?’
Ed stepped towards the door and took hold of Baljit’s arm just above the elbow. ‘You’re under arrest for theft of a motor vehicle... ’
‘What? Get off me.’
He tried to pull away but Ed yanked him on to the street. The marked Ford Focus moved from its position further up the street.
‘Stop pulling,’ Ed said. ‘You’
re going nowhere.’
A uniform cop jumped out of the front passenger seat, slapped the quick-cuffs on Baljit, and walked him to the car.
He was being driven away before Bhandal came to the door.
‘What is going on here?’ he demanded.
‘Is Mia home Mr. Bhandal?’ Sam said.
‘What have you done with Baljit?’
Parkash appeared at the doorway, followed by Mia.
A heated exchange in Punjabi took place between the couple.
‘Your son has been arrested for theft of a motor vehicle,’ Ed said, the voice of authority. ‘Sukhvinder’s vehicle.’
‘That’s ridiculous,’ Bhandal shouted.
‘And now,’ Sam said, stepping forward. ‘I’m taking Mia to a place of safety. I’m making an Emergency Protection Order.’
Bhandal’s hatred and rage were boiling over.
‘You’re not taking her anywhere,’ he shouted, spit flying from his lips.
He turned to his wife and spoke quickly. Her aggression echoed her husband’s.
Ed switched to Punjabi. ‘We have every right to arrest Baljit and to remove Mia.’ He leaned closely in towards them. ‘This is not rural India. The laws of the Elders hold no sway here. The only law is the law of the land, this land, England. I am coming inside with my colleagues to search your house. If you try and stop us you will be arrested for obstruction.’ He looked over his shoulder. ‘Let’s go.’
‘You come with me Mia.’ It was Sam.
‘What’s happening? Why do I have to come with you?’
‘I’ll explain in the car.’
‘Stay where you are,’ her father barked. ‘Don’t you dare move Mia.’ He stared defiantly at Ed.
‘I don’t intend having a tug-of-war with your daughter’s arms, but she is coming with us.’
Parkash had moved away from the doorway.
‘She stays here!’ Bhandal pushed Mia back into the hallway.
Ed stepped forward, shoved him out of the way, and put his arm around Mia’s shoulders.
Dark Tides Thrillers Box Set Page 62