Worlds Apart

by Azi Ahmed

  A part of me wanted to say something, but I didn’t know what. He’d made up his mind and blocked every channel of conversation I could attempt. I was really cheesed off and felt like a prat sitting there.

  ‘Thank you,’ I said, putting my hand out to him to shake, but he was so engrossed in those damn files he didn’t notice, so I retracted and left the room.

  Ginger was waiting outside and led me out of the building to the Portakabin by the main gates. Not a word passed between us. However, this time I didn’t care and just wanted to get out of the place.

  ‘Goodnight,’ the security officer said as I passed.

  I smiled at him, a bit embarrassed that he was seeing me again so quickly. I checked my watch: fifteen minutes, that’s all it took, and ten of those involved getting in and out of the building. It was the worst interview I’d ever had. But now, having met the colonel, it felt like the place I most wanted to be. It had ‘challenge’ written all over it.

  As soon as I got out, my phone rang and it was Mum, which was even more depressing. She wanted me to come home that weekend. I wondered how she would react if I told her I wanted to join the army. Though it would be difficult to gauge her reaction, I imagined she would be shocked and very upset. It was rare to hear about Pakistani men being in the British Army let alone a Pakistani girl.

  Mum then dropped the bombshell that she and Dad were going on hajj and wanted me to go with them. I tried to remain calm as she prattled on about the ‘pink’ and ‘blue’ jobs; Mum organising the suitcases and Dad meeting the local imam to organise the flights. In our tradition if someone invites you to hajj it cannot be turned down unless it’s a matter of life and death.

  I asked if Dad was there. She went quiet for a second. I’d never asked to speak to him on the phone before.

  ‘No.’ There was surprise in her voice. ‘What do you want to speak to him about?’

  I didn’t reply. I was interested to know about his time in the army, at least his role and rank.

  That night I tossed and turned in bed, not about my parents’ spiritual journey but about the army interview. I felt sheer disappointment with myself, and I wished I could go back in time and change my approach or have said something different.

  I couldn’t get the officer out of my head: his glazed eyes, neglecting to shake my hand, and all-round dismissive aura. All these things collectively made me feel like a failure. Nevertheless, I had to let it go, I told myself bleakly.

  It took a few days to blank out the experience and just when I thought I’d got it out of my system, it all came flooding back one evening when I was working late in the office. I got a phone call from the barracks asking me to come in that same evening.

  The journey back down to the barracks was just as cold and dark as the last. I was anxious to get there and get on with the job they had lined up for me. I forgot to take my CV because I was in a hurry to get out of the office. I also didn’t have time to check up on the ranks. I was seeing a captain tonight and had no idea where he stood in the rankings as opposed to an officer; nor had I foung out what SAS stood for.

  The security officer in the Portakabin was different to the one last week but he was wearing an identical dark pullover with white collars sticking out. He stared at me, bemused, as I approached him.

  ‘Hello,’ I said with a smile, feeling more upbeat. ‘I’ve come to see Captain Wood.’ A gust of wind blew from behind, making the lapel of my coat flap over my cheek. I’d tied my hair back in a ponytail this time and applied clear lip gloss.

  The security officer continued to stare at me for a moment then picked up the phone and punched some numbers in. He did not smile, but I was getting used to that.

  Someone answered; I could tell because he turned his back to me and began talking down the phone. I couldn’t hear what was being said because of the traffic behind, but his shiny head nodded a few times and then he turned back and looked at me.

  ‘Did you come to see someone here a few weeks ago?’ he asked.

  ‘Last week,’ I corrected. ‘Is it in the same building?’

  He shook his head and gave me another set of directions and handed me a visitor ID badge.

  ‘Room 342, someone will meet you up there.’

  I pinned the badge onto my coat and entered the barracks.

  The courtyard was empty, but this time it was lit by floodlights so I could see the surroundings more; there were two old brick buildings stood on either side of the courtyard about four floors high. The first set of windows was six feet off the ground so I couldn’t see inside, and there were a couple of large army vehicles parked at the far end.

  The directions didn’t seem so complicated this time and I arrived at the office within minutes.

  I knocked twice and entered.

  ‘You must be Ahmed.’ Captain Wood was sat behind a desk staring at a computer screen. He didn’t look at all as I expected; late fifties with a mole on his left cheek, wearing very large glasses that almost filled his face.

  He signalled for me to sit in the chair opposite him. I did so and patiently waited for him to finish what he was doing, now realising this was the norm around here. Outside I could hear voices, all male. It suddenly dawned on me that I hadn’t seen a woman yet. Not that it bothered me, but it did add to the strangeness of the place.

  Finally, Captain Wood turned away from his screen and looked at me. ‘I believe you came in to see Officer Crane a few weeks ago. We need admin support. Your file was passed on to me.’

  I was about to correct him and say it was last week but stopped myself. ‘Yes, sir.’

  I decided to follow Officer Crane’s lead and address the captain as ‘sir’.

  Wood stood up, revealing an enormous waist, then leaned over to the filing cabinet and brought out a white form. ‘When you’ve finished filling it in, let me know.’ He handed it to me and turned back to his computer.

  I was a bit taken aback. I thought he would talk a bit about the unit and the roles available to see if I would be interested before handing me a form. Moreover, why did they change their minds and decide to transfer my files to this department? I didn’t even know what this department was, other than I was up for an admin post. And why has no one asked to see my CV yet? I thought.

  Reluctantly I took the form, which looked fairly straightforward, and filled it out in minutes. Captain Wood swapped it for a sealed brown envelope. ‘This is for your medical, follow me.’

  Medical?! I got up awkwardly and followed him out, all the time thinking about my hairy legs. He pointed towards the stairs I had just come up. ‘Go back through the courtyard, across the other side and you’ll see a door down the corridor labelled Medic.’

  Why was everything so spread out in this place? I repeated the instructions in my head as I made the journey back down. Now I was really nervous. I had no idea what this medical entailed and why I needed one if I was working in the office. The last time I visited a doctor was twelve years ago and my records were still in Manchester somewhere. I couldn’t even remember which surgery or doctor they were with.

  The walk to the medic room turned out to be only a few minutes long. I couldn’t help noticing how quiet it was. Not a soul in sight. I knocked on the door. No answer.

  I knocked again – still no answer. I turned the knob only to be faced with another corridor.

  Along I walked, noticing on the left-hand side a door open and the faint sound of a man’s voice inside getting louder as I got closer. It was someone talking on the telephone.

  ‘Yeah, mate … Yeah … fucking hell. Well, that’s the way it goes around here, mate.’

  I hovered outside, not sure what else to do, as I needed to check if he was the person I should be speaking to. There wasn’t anyone else around.

  The conversation continued.

  I pressed my back against the wall so he wouldn’t see me, as I didn’t want to interrupt him but when I heard the receiver click down I quickly knocked on the door.

  �
�Yeah?’

  I popped my head around to see a man of medium build with mousy hair. He sat behind a desk with the Sun newspaper open in front of him, wearing a canvas jacket and T-shirt. Surely this can’t be the medic, I thought.

  ‘I’ve come for my medical.’

  The man looked me up and down a few times. ‘Who sent you?’ he asked gruffly.

  ‘Captain Wood.’

  His eyes moved down to the envelope I was holding, then he put his hand out for it. I stepped into the room and gave it to him. I watched as he ripped it open and scanned through the two sheets of paper inside. I had no idea what was written on them.

  Finally he replaced the documents back in the envelope, got up and walked out of the room, brushing my shoulder as he passed.

  I stood in the middle of the room and scanned the bare office, clutching my handbag tight. Doubt kicked in, perhaps coming here tonight wasn’t a good idea after all. For some reason I had hoped to see the colonel again, but that didn’t seem likely.

  I checked my watch. I had been here almost an hour and all I’d done was fill out a form.

  ‘Which unit have you come from?’

  The man’s voice made me jump as he sped back in to the room, still holding my envelope.

  ‘None.’

  ‘Who interviewed you?’

  ‘Captain Wood.’

  He turned on his heel. ‘This way.’

  I followed him out and down the corridor the way I had come in. His pace was faster than Ginger’s, making it impossible to control the clanking noise my heels were making as I tried to keep up.

  We entered a room that, thankfully, looked more like a doctor’s surgery, with a metal trolley stacked with clear plastic trays and bandages. I looked around, wondering who else was joining.

  He closed the door behind and turned to me. ‘Let’s start by taking off your shoes…’

  * * *

  An hour later, I was heading back up to Captain Wood’s office.

  The medical wasn’t as bad as I thought. I had to accept that things were done differently here and I shouldn’t get too hung up, especially at the man’s surprise when he saw my hairy legs.

  Captain Wood was stood outside his office talking to another man in uniform. They both glanced round at me as I came up the stairs and carried on talking.

  I stopped a few metres away and dithered, not knowing what to do with myself except look at the floor. It felt like ages before the man walked off and Captain Wood turned his attention to me.

  ‘OK, Ahmed, come with me.’

  I followed him back into the office, watching him go behind his desk, open the same filing cabinet and bring out two green forms.

  More forms.

  ‘I need you to fill out these.’ He handed them both to me and left the room.

  The door was slightly ajar and I could hear faint voices outside. Suddenly a girl appeared; early thirties, tall, broad shouldered, dressed in a dark business suit and with her hair in a bob.

  ‘Is Al in tonight?’ she asked with a friendly smile.

  ‘Who?’ I asked, looking up from the forms.

  ‘Captain Wood,’ she corrected.

  ‘I think he just went out.’

  The girl crossed the room to an empty chair close by me.

  ‘I’m Kate,’ she introduced, crossing over a muscular leg. ‘Haven’t seen you before.’

  ‘I just joined.’

  ‘Which unit are you from?’

  I shook my head. ‘I haven’t–’

  ‘Oh…’ she cut in. ‘You’ve been doing … other stuff.’

  I opened my mouth to reply but she got in before me.

  ‘I’m from Ops Int.,’ she continued, shuffling her chair round to face me.

  ‘What’s that?’

  She looked at me as if I was stupid.

  I was saved by a loud knock on the door and another girl appeared. This one was totally different; Amazonian build with blonde hair scraped back and biceps bulging out of her short-sleeved T-shirt. She had the most amazing physique I’d ever seen.

  ‘Hi!’ She waved at Kate, not wasting any time. ‘I’m Becky. What’s your name?’ Her accent sounded Australian or Canadian.

  Kate looked at her with a cool expression and replied. ‘Kate.’

  ‘Hey, Kate! Good to meet you.’ Next she pointed at me. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Azi,’ I replied quietly, not sure where this conversation was going but pleased to see some females at last.

  Becky suddenly dived into a large sports bag that was slung over one shoulder and brought out a family-size chocolate bar.

  ‘Hey, want some?’ she asked to no one in particular as she unwrapped half of it.

  ‘No, thanks,’ Kate replied, leaning over the desk and taking a copy of Jane’s Defence Weekly, a military magazine.

  Becky pointed the chocolate bar at me, nodding anxiously for me to take a chunk.

  I didn’t feel like any but felt I should out of politeness, then changed my mind again. I smiled weakly then shook my head, declining her offer.

  ‘Where have you come from?’ Kate asked, slowly flicking through pages of the magazine.

  Becky swallowed a large piece of chocolate then broke off another before replying, ‘I’ve trained with John and David in Paras, been on climbing expeditions with Martin from here…’

  What’s Paras?

  ‘Who have you come to see?’ Kate scanned down an article.

  Becky put another piece of chocolate in her mouth and studied the back of the packet, then reeled out a few more names, none of which included Wood or Crane. Even if she had mentioned them I wouldn’t have known – she seemed to know everyone on first-name terms.

  I watched the body language between them both. It was as if they had forgotten I was in the room, and by this time I had forgotten about filling out the forms. I had no idea what they were talking about or why they were here, but they definitely didn’t look like they were here for admin jobs.

  There was another knock on the door and a man appeared holding a clipboard. He looked early forties, a bit taller than me with blond hair and piercing blue eyes, wearing a camouflage uniform.

  ‘Is Al in tonight?’ he asked Kate.

  ‘You just missed him.’

  The man brushed past Becky and gave her a knowing nod. ‘Alright.’

  Perhaps this was the Martin she was going on about. Either way, he seemed familiar to both these girls and ignored me.

  ‘Colonel asked me for the list of girls on female selection. Becky, you’re down for this … Kate?’ he pointed his pen at her.

  What’s selection? And why is it only for females?

  ‘I want to find out more about it,’ Kate replied carefully.

  ‘Come to the meeting next week.’

  Then he turned to me.

  I looked at him blankly. If these girls were putting their name down, perhaps I should too. I didn’t want to give the wrong impression by saying no.

  ‘Yes,’ I replied.

  Kate and Becky swung round and stared at me, then exchanged glances which made me feel nervous all of a sudden. What had I signed up for?

  The man scribbled my name on the clipboard and asked us to report next week with our sports kit. He then strolled out of the room, leaving the three of us in silence.

  Moments later Captain Wood was back. I wasn’t sure where this left me with the admin post, and when I informed him about the selection training he made no effort to hide his amusement, saying he was sure he’d see me back for my admin post very soon.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ALPHA FEMALES

  BEFORE THE TRAINING began, I did manage to visit home. I performed the usual routine on the train and changed into shalwar kameez before pulling into Manchester Piccadilly station.

  Dad picked me up in his lime-green Mazda. There wasn’t much conversation between us but he looked pleased to see me and stroked my head, which was a tradition the elderly did to the young when greeting them. He aske
d if the journey was OK. I wondered if Mum had mentioned that I had asked after him.

  This visit was essential because my sister was back from Pakistan with her shiny new husband and his kid brother. I knew what the brother was here for so I scraped my hair back, wore no make-up and planned to behave as unattractively as possible. That would include giving him dirty looks and improvising pigeon Punjabi to give him the impression that I’d become so Western I could hardly speak my own language any more. My Punjabi was fluent, of course, as I had grown up with it. Thankfully, the marriage bureau hadn’t come back with anything yet. I felt a pang of guilt thinking back to my trick with the form filling, but let it go as quick as it came.

  I could feel the tension in the house as soon as we arrived. Mum avoided eye contact with me and her words were strained. I wanted the weekend to fly by so I could go back and get on with my new life in the army.

  Most of my time was spent serving tea to visitors who, as expected, didn’t acknowledge me because they felt I had deserted Mum and Dad. It fuelled Mum to nag me to move back home because I was bringing shame on them. It drove me up the wall along with the Bollywood music blaring out of the TV in the background. I told her to stop talking before I said something I’d regret, but she went on to blame my gobbyness on Dad for not saying anything.

  I wanted to ask why she cared what people thought; hadn’t she pre-empted this scenario before she said I could go? She herself had shocked both Dad and the community by running her own business, but now that it came to me doing something independent she retreated because of community pressure. I did sympathise, however, because it was she who had to live with the gossip – not me. Although Dad had been through this with the community when she ran the shop and he had dealt with it by ignoring them.

  I decided to let it go. I knew Mum was waiting for a reaction to let off steam, and normally she would get one, but I didn’t want to get stressed before going back to London. All of this I was managing to keep under control until the weekend ended in a flare up with Shazia. She had finally got in touch and came round to see me. Her dress sense had changed to wearing a full hijab. It was her choice and I respected it.