by Jacqui Rose
‘I know you’re there Laila, I saw you.’ The person’s voice was loud and distinctive. And Laila knew straight away who it was. It was Yvonne.
‘Come on Laila, I’m not going away until I see you.’ Laila wished Yvonne would go. She would only get her into trouble. What was she doing here anyway? She’d never been to see her before, come to think of it, she’d never even bothered with her at school.
‘Laila!’
However much she put the pillow over her ears, it was impossible to ignore Yvonne’s raucous voice. It was obvious she wasn’t going to go away until she got what she came for.
Laila went to the window. She could see Yvonne looking in the gutter for more stones to pick up. She knocked on the glass to draw her attention, frowning as she spoke.
‘What do you want?’
Yvonne crinkled her nose. ‘Well that’s charming. I come to see my mate and that’s all the greeting I get. Open the door so I can come in.’
‘I can’t.’
Puzzled, Yvonne spoke. ‘Why not?’
‘It’s locked.’
Laila could see the exasperation on Yvonne’s face.
‘Well, open the window.’
‘I can’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘I’m not allowed.’
With her hands on her hips, Yvonne raised her voice louder. ‘Hey up Laila, what’s the gig? We’re not going to get very far this way. Just open it.’
Tears came to Laila’s eyes. ‘Please can you go away?’
‘No, not until I see you proper like.’ Laila moved from behind the curtain. She opened the window and leaned out, but not before she looked nervously up and down the street.
‘Here, I brought you McDonald’s, you lot can eat it can’t you?’ Yvonne smiled at her warmly, taking a bite of her burger.
‘Now you’ve seen me, can you go away now? I don’t mean to be rude.’
‘What’s that on your face?’
Laila touched her cheek absent-mindedly. It hurt. A penalty for not cooking the dhal curry the way Baz liked it.
‘It’s nothing.’
‘Has he been knocking you about?’
‘Who?’
‘Your fella.’
‘No.’
‘I bet he has. All blokes are the same. My stepdad knocks me about.’
‘Does he? What do you do?’
Yvonne shrugged, nonplussed. ‘Nowt, besides call him a prick.’ Yvonne paused and took another bite out of her Big Mac. ‘Sure you don’t want some? I’ll lob it in through the window. You know your fella came round to see me?’
‘No … no, I didn’t.’
‘He thought he was The Big I Am. Told me not to come and see you.’
‘Then why have you?’
With a wry smile, Yvonne answered. ‘Because he told me not to come and see you.’
For the first time in the conversation, Laila smiled. She spoke quietly to Yvonne, still aware any one of the neighbours could be listening. ‘Did he frighten you?’
‘No. He’s just a big bully like me stepdad. He scares you?’
Laila paused then answered, ‘Sometimes.’
‘So is it really true you’re married?’
‘Yes.’
‘What’s it like?’
It was Laila’s turn to shrug this time. ‘All right I suppose.’
‘Let’s see your ring.’
Laila pushed her hand out of the top window of the low rise terrace bedroom. Yvonne pulled a face when she saw it. ‘It’s big. Do you like it?’
It was Laila’s turn to shrug. ‘Not really.’
‘Seems funny, you being married. Did you want to?’
Laila answered haughtily, trying to convince herself as well as Yvonne. ‘It’s my duty.’
‘Bugger that, if my mam tried to marry me off to some old fella I’d do me nut.’
‘He’s not that old. He’s only thirty-four.’
Taking another bite of the burger, Yvonne fell silent for a moment then asked, ‘You all right? You look a bit pale.’
‘I don’t feel so good. Got a few pains in my stomach.’
‘From what?’
Sheepishly, Laila replied, ‘Dunno.’
‘Well what does your mum say?’
It was an uncomfortable question for Laila to answer. She put her head down, not wanting Yvonne to see the hurt in her eyes. ‘She’s not here.’
‘So you’re stuck at home on your own?’
‘Yeah.’
‘They locked you in?’
Laila’s head shot up, her face a picture of fear. ‘Shhh. They’ll hear you.’
‘Who will hear me?’
‘Please Yvonne, the neighbours. They’re good friends of my uncle. I’ll get in trouble. I’ve said too much already.’
After a moment, Yvonne asked warmly. ‘You want me to come and see you tomorrow?’
Laila didn’t say anything. There was no way Yvonne could come back. It would only lead to trouble. But then the idea of having someone to talk to was more than she could ever have hoped for.
‘If you like, but not in the morning. Baz will be home, he’ll be angry if he sees you. And Tariq won’t be back till late.’
‘Okay. You want me to bring you something?’
‘Some chocolate buttons would be nice.’
‘Okay. See you tomorrow.’
Laila waved and closed the window. A moment later a sudden panic passed through her. What was she thinking of, asking her to come back? Baz was sure to find out. She struggled to open the window again, wanting to call and tell Yvonne not to come. But it was too late. She’d gone.
Laila sat back on the bed, wondering why she’d just brought more trouble on herself.
It was late by the time Yvonne got back to her house and she was exhausted. There’d been trouble in the club with one of the girls being found in the toilets with a punter. The owner of the club had thrown them both out, but the man had come back with some of his friends and all hell had kicked off.
It had pissed her off. Yvonne had had to work the high stage because of it, which meant less tips than the middle stage where she usually worked. She’d earned just under eighty quid which was less than she normally would have earned on a Tuesday night and she’d had to work doubly hard for it.
Putting her earnings in the hole in the wall behind her poster, Yvonne thought of Laila. Funny thing was, she’d initially only gone round to Laila’s house to wind Baz up; wanting to show him he couldn’t push her around. But she’d found herself genuinely liking her. Perhaps it was because she felt sorry for her, but Yvonne felt it was more than that, she couldn’t put her finger on quite what it was but strangely, she was looking forward to seeing her again.
Laila had always been the goody-goody at school. She’d always seemed so perfect. Beautiful, kind and clever. And it was because of these traits Yvonne had disliked her. Everything Laila was, Yvonne felt she wasn’t. So she’d done what her family had done to her all through her life. She’d bullied Laila.
So it was a turn-up for the books to discover what a sweet person Laila was. Strangely enough, she was looking forward to seeing her again tomorrow.
The door banged open. It was her stepdad. Yvonne glanced at the clock. Two-thirty a.m. He was early. Usually he wouldn’t get in till at least four o’clock, staggering drunkenly up the stairs. Yvonne watched her stepdad stumble into her room with a look of disgust on her face. His trousers had a wet stain at the front from where he’d pissed himself, and his shirt was unbuttoned to his belly, his enormous pasty white flesh on show. He fell on to the bed and landed on something.
‘What the fuck is this?’ Pulling it out from underneath him, Yvonne went to snatch it back.
‘Not so fast, Yvie. Let’s see what you’re hiding.’
‘I’m not hiding nowt. I just don’t want a fat lummox like you sitting on them.’
‘Oi, less of your cheek.’
Yvonne rolled her eyes. She was used to the nightly visits. Coming
in for nothing more than to look for a fight or an argument. The only time she’d been free of them was when he had had been inside for GBH. It’d been the best eighteen months of her life but then when he’d been released, her silly cow of a mother had let him back in, for it to start all over again.
Yvonne watched her stepdad trying to focus his drunken eyes on what he was looking at. ‘Chocolate buttons! Hey up, they’re my favourite.’
‘Well it’s a shame they’re not for you then. Buy your own you tight git.’
With a smile on his face, he ripped the purple bag of chocolates open, stuffing them into his mouth by the handful. Yvonne’s eyes filled with tears.
‘You bloody prick. Them aren’t yours.’ She reached across to get the bag furiously.
‘It’s my house and anything in this house is mine, you bloody cheeky mare.’
Yvonne shouted, red-faced, at the top of her voice.
‘This isn’t your house, it’s me mam’s house and I’m sick of it. I’m pig sick of you. You bloody bugger.’
‘Come here.’ Her stepdad swiped at her, grasping hold of her sleeve, dragging her down to the bed. ‘You’re a cocky little cow and you need teaching a lesson.’
Yvonne was scratching wildly, throwing her arms into the air as her stepdad held her down.
‘Get off me you fucker.’
‘I’ll show you who’s boss missy and we’ll see how cocky you are then.’ With a swift movement, he pulled off his belt, wrapping it expertly round his hand. Yvonne heard the whistle in the air before she felt the stinging lash on her back. She screamed out in pain, managing to sit up. ‘I hate you. I hate you.’ Tears rolled down her cheeks as the buckle of the belt connected with her face, filling her mouth with saliva and blood.
21
Laila thought it was strange. Not the fact that Yvonne hadn’t turned up as she said she would, but it was the devastation she felt by her not doing so.
She didn’t even know Yvonne well, but she’d sat staring out the window all day yesterday waiting for her to come, and now, a day later, she was doing the same. Watching, waiting, hoping the empty street would be filled with the approaching figure of her new friend, Yvonne.
She’d stood and waited for her so long yesterday that her legs had begun to ache, so today she’d pulled up the wooden chair from the corner of the room, placing it in front of the window.
Laila heard the key in the bedroom door. It was Baz.
‘What you doing there?’
‘I just like watching everyone go by.’
Laila could sense the panic rising inside her as Baz walked across to the window, pulling the net curtains right across to get a full view of the street. She had thought he was working and the idea Yvonne would appear just as Baz was looking out was beginning to frighten her.
‘What’s up with you? You look like you’re up to something.’ Baz grabbed hold of Laila’s hair, pulling her head back. ‘You better not be. I’ve warned you.’
‘No, no, I’m not. I just wanted to see out.’
‘You’re lying.’
‘I’m not, I swear. I thought you’d be at work.’
Baz’s eyes hardened. ‘Oh so because you thought I was at work, you assumed it was okay to make a show of yourself at the window?’
‘It wasn’t like that Baz.’
Laila hadn’t time to explain what it was like before she found herself being sent across the room by the back of Baz’s hand. He stood above her, then brought his foot down into her side. She moved, quickly scurrying along the floor, trying to protect her stomach with her hands.
‘Please, Baz. I wasn’t doing anything wrong.’
Baz mimicked Laila as he spoke. ‘I wasn’t doing anything wrong, I never do anything wrong, because I’m little Miss Perfect.’
Baz grabbed her top and Laila heard it tear, the material cutting into her armpit as he held her up. ‘You’re pathetic.’
Baz brought his foot down into her side again. She screamed, terrified not for herself but for her pregnant stomach.
‘No Baz, please. The baby.’
‘You’re not fit to be a mother, you know that?’
Laila scrambled under the bed for refuge. She felt Baz grab hold of her ankles and, desperate to protect herself from him, held onto the bed leg, preventing him pulling her out.
‘Oh no you don’t.’ Baz continued to pull her as her fingers began to slip, betraying her grip. A few seconds later Laila felt Baz let go of her ankles, but it was followed by a cool waft of air as he lifted the bed up.
‘What did I warn you Laila? I told you nothing was going to change when we came back to Bradford, but you seem not to want to hear me.’
‘I do, I do. I’m trying Baz. I’m trying to make you happy.’
‘No you aren’t, and if you don’t want to hear then, my little beauty, you’ll feel.’
Laila was aware of the pain shooting through her, but it was secondary to her survival instinct. She ran for the door, just as Baz hurled the wooden chair at her. It missed. Fractionally, smashing on to the wall and bringing down the framed pictures.
‘Laila, stop acting the fool.’
Baz ran out after her onto the landing. It didn’t take him long to catch up. He clutched hold of Laila’s clothes as she stood at the top of the stairs begging him.
‘Baz, please.’
He drew her close to him, staring into her beautiful brown eyes. As he held her, Laila could feel his body beginning to become aroused and his hand starting to explore her body.
‘Princess frigid, aren’t we?’
Laila yanked away but the force of the movement made her lose her balance and she grappled, desperately searching for Baz to cling on to. Briefly, Laila felt her fingers touching Baz’s arm before she tumbled backwards, floating in mid-air for a moment before crashing down and hitting the hard edges of the stairs. Then there was nothing but darkness.
‘Laila? Laila? Wake up.’ Laila’s eyes fluttered open to see Tariq’s worried face staring at her. Unsure where she was, Laila turned her head to discover she was somehow back in her bedroom, lying on her bed. Her whole body hurt, and the pain in her stomach which had already been there had become worse.
‘Are you okay? Baz told me you fell down the stairs carrying the chair.’
‘Where is he?’
‘He’s gone to work. Do you want me to get you a drink?’
Laila reached for her brother’s hand. ‘No. Just stay with me.’ She smiled weakly at Tariq.
‘Laila, I’m so sorry.’ Laila shook her head.
‘Don’t blame yourself Tariq. It’s not your fault.’ She squeezed his hand harder as she saw the tears come into his eyes. ‘Don’t, Tariq. Please don’t.’
‘Did he do it Laila? Did he do this to you? Just tell me.’
Laila shook her head again. She didn’t want trouble and she certainly didn’t want her brother saying anything to Baz. ‘No, Tariq. It’s like he said. I fell.’
The pain shot through her again and Laila twisted her body to the side. It was a while before it subsided enough for her to talk.
‘Tariq, I think there’s something wrong.’
‘Just lie still, try not to get upset.’ Tariq stroked his sister’s hair gently as she closed her eyes.
‘What’s going on here?’ Mahmood Khan stepped into Laila’s bedroom and immediately screwed his face up in disdain. Every time he saw his niece he was overwhelmed by a sense of despair. Even though she was now married to Baz, her presence still bothered him. He’d thought it would disappear, but seeing her only reminded him of his brother’s weaknesses and the lack of guidance he’d instilled in his children. His late brother and his family were a disgrace to the Khan name and the sense of shame was almost too much to bear.
Tariq jumped up from the bed. He hadn’t seen his uncle in a few days. ‘Hello uncle. Laila’s not well. She had a fall.’
Mahmood didn’t bother to enquire how or why it’d happened. ‘Tariq, I need you to come with me. I have a
few things I need to do.’
‘But what about Laila, uncle?’
‘Just lock the door as usual.’
Tariq’s face blushed red with shame. ‘I didn’t mean that. She’s unwell. Don’t you think someone needs to stay with her?’
‘What for?’
‘She’s having pains. The baby, uncle. Perhaps there’s something wrong.’
Mahmood waved his hand. He didn’t wish to discuss anything like that, especially as he had no doubt that his niece’s stupidity, not to mention her wilfulness, most likely caused it. Walking out of the bedroom, Mahmood spoke without taking so much as a glance at Laila.
‘Let whatever needs to take its course happen Tariq. Who are we to question what is given or taken away from us?’
Laila heard the sound and immediately knew what it was. She sat up quickly, then threw herself back down as the pain travelled through her. She needed to let it subside but she also knew she needed to get up before it was too late. Pulling herself up again, Laila ignored her dizziness and the pain, slowly making her way across to the window.
A smile crossed her face. It was Yvonne.
‘Hold on.’ Laila tapped on the window getting her friend’s attention. Unlocking the bolt, it took Laila three attempts to lift it. She knew it wasn’t heavier than when she’d lifted it yesterday, in fact she knew it wasn’t heavy at all, but every movement hurt, as if it was pulling her insides out.
‘Hi.’ Laila greeted Yvonne shyly. She wanted to tell her what a relief it was to see her. How she’d feared she wouldn’t come back and how the thought of that had started to sink her into a dark despair. But how could she? How could she tell Yvonne, a person she hardly knew, that she was her only contact to the outside world.
‘I suppose you thought I weren’t coming back.’
‘I never really thought about it.’ It was a lie but Laila was too embarrassed to say anything else. Not quite knowing what she should say, Laila added, ‘But I’m glad you’re here though.’
‘I nearly never came.’
‘Why not?’
‘Just because.’ It was Yvonne’s turn to lie now.