My phone rang as I left the store. I put my bag on a nearby bench and sat down to take the call. It was Tess.
‘You’re off tomorrow aren’t you?’ she asked. ‘Do you want to meet up?’
I made my way over to the café in the precinct. The walls were lined with books and there was a stationery shop where you could browse as you waited for your food. I ordered a sandwich and an apple juice, then sat down to wait for Tess. I chose a seat next to the window and watched the people going in and out of shops, stopping to chat, light a cigarette or take a call. I saw Tess approaching but she wasn’t on her own, Fiona was with her. I breathed deeply as I waved at them and seconds later they had joined me at the table.
Tess went off to join the queue and Fiona sat down. Her make up looked thicker than usual.
‘I spoke to Mark,’ I said. ‘Khaled did go off that weekend, so he hasn’t got an alibi for the whole night.’
‘So it could have been him that went off to meet Miriam.’ Fiona’s eyes flashed. ‘How can we find out?’ ‘I’m working on that,’ I said. ‘But you know I’m going to France tomorrow so we’ll have to stay in touch online. Give me your email address and how to get in touch with you.’
‘I’ll text it to you,’ she said and started pushing buttons on her phone. Tess came back to the table with two cans of diet coke, glasses and straws.
‘So you two are friends now?’ she asked, looking from me to Fiona.
She shrugged. ‘We’re helping Helen out, and Jasmine is seeing to a bit of unfinished business for me.’
My phone pinged as Fiona’s message came through.
‘Have you heard from Helen?’ I asked.
Fiona rolled her eyes. ‘Only about every other minute. She thinks we’re the Famous Five. Except there’s only three of us.’
‘Four,’ said Tess indignantly. ‘I brought you all together remember? Besides, when Jas is in France I will be taking over the operation.’
‘Operation! I thought Helen was bad enough,’ said Fiona.
‘Look, if you don’t want to do this…’ I glared.
‘Calm down,’ said Tess, ‘let’s just chill out, for God’s sake.’
I took a mouthful of apple juice and finished off my sandwich.
‘I forgot to tell you Fiona, I checked on Facebook and I don’t think there is anything going on between Khaled and Sadie.’
Fiona looked like she had just bitten on a lemon.
‘He said to us there was nothing going on, at the rehearsal, didn’t he Jasmine?’
‘Tess is right.’ I agreed. I didn’t mention what he’d said about Fiona being possessive.
‘What he says doesn’t mean anything. I want to know for sure,’ said Fiona sulkily.
‘OK,’ I said. ‘Tess, can you try and speak to Khaled and find out a bit more about that weekend … and about Sadie,’ I added hastily, aware of Fiona’s eyes on me. ‘You’re in the best position to do that after all, he’ll be round at your house to see Mark for rehearsals.’
‘Looks like this enquiry wouldn’t be going very far without me,’ said Tess. ‘I’ll have a go, but I can’t promise he’ll tell me anything.’
‘I can’t help having to go to France,’ I said. ‘It’s only for the weekend. I’m sure I’ll have had enough of them by then.’
A waitress appeared at our table with two plates of sandwiches and the conversation died out for a bit as they started eating. I watched Fiona out of the corner of my eye; she pulled a slice of ham out of her sandwich and picked at it a bit before pushing the plate to one side.
‘I’m not hungry,’ she said. ‘I’m going home. Mum wants me back by three.’ She pushed her chair back and stood up. ‘I’ll be waiting to hear from you, so don’t forget, OK?’ she said.
Tess and I watched her walk briskly across the square, her thin shoulders rigid, before she disappeared from view.
‘Why did that sound like a threat? She still doesn’t trust me.’
‘She’s still hurting about splitting up with Khaled,’ Tess reminded me. ‘Give her a break.’
Tess walked back to the bus stop with me. ‘How long do you think you’ll be gone for?’
‘It depends on how we get on. It might be good if I go to Amersham, see where Michael lives, find out more about him. Try and Skype me without laughing, I can’t help what I look like.’
‘You’re such an idiot, Jas!’ she said, punching me. The bus arrived at that moment and I waved back at her until she had disappeared from view. I felt strangely empty.
I opened the front door and was greeted by the sight of a luxurious luggage set in the hallway.
‘Mum,’ I called out excitedly and she came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a tea towel. ‘It’s gorgeous!’ I said. There was one medium size black leather case with a small holdall that fitted on top. The kind of luggage Sadie would have. Damn! Why did she keep popping up? ‘I was going to take my old rucksack.’
‘You can’t travel with that,’ Mum said. ‘What would your father think?’
I stopped smiling. ‘Is that what this is all about?’
‘No,’ she said indignantly. ‘I wanted to make up for letting you down today and I managed to get off early. I’ve cooked us a mushroom risotto and some salad so we can have that later.’ I gave her a hug and she looked surprised.
‘I’ll go and have a shower then do some packing. Can we eat after that?’
Mum nodded and I went off upstairs. The first thing I did was go into my bathroom and put the hair dye on. I left it on for thirty minutes to make sure the colour took. I wanted the red to be a thing of the past. I wrapped a plastic bag around my head and started sorting out what I wanted to pack. I was starting to feel edgy about meeting Michael.
Mum called upstairs that she was popping out to the shop so I took the opportunity to run downstairs and get myself a drink. An icy looking bottle of vodka lay on the top shelf. I poured the clear liquid into a glass and took a can of diet coke out of the fridge. It tasted much better than wine. I went back upstairs and washed the colour out of my hair. The smell made my eyes water, but the results were worth it. I stared into the mirror. I looked more like I used to, before Sadie, my hair a chocolate shade of brown. I dried my hair under the dryer then rubbed some hair clay in. It didn’t look too bad. I put some music on, then set about packing my case.
Mum looked shocked when I went downstairs.
‘What have you done to your hair now?’ she asked. She stepped back and studied it. ‘Actually, it doesn’t look too bad. I never could get used to that red. It wasn’t you somehow. It suits you short, but maybe try a hairdresser next time eh?’
After dinner I watched TV for a bit, then went upstairs to check my emails before I went to bed. I clicked onto Sadie’s site, but seeing her new hairstyle in her profile picture put me in a bad mood. I turned the computer off and got ready for bed, exhausted after such a long day. Just as I was dropping off my phone buzzed. It was a text from Michael.
See you tomorrow at the Eurostar arrivals. I can’t wait to see you. I have a surprise for you.
Great! Didn’t he realise that meeting my father for the first time in my memory was going to be one hell of a surprise already? I sincerely hoped he didn’t have anything else to spring on me. I turned my phone to silent and closed my eyes.
CHAPTER 18
I cursed my bag as it wedged itself in the way of the ticket barrier. I was thinking about Mum. She’d told me she had something important to tell me at the last minute as she waved me off at St Pancras, and left me wondering for the whole journey what it was she wanted to say. I scanned the people waiting behind the barriers, several men holding up pieces of cards with names on. Then I spotted Michael. I stopped walking, my legs suddenly feeling a bit wobbly. Even though the photograph that had been displayed in all the papers was burnt into my brain, it was still a shock to see him. But it wasn’t just that that was making my heart clatter in my chest, it was the two policemen carrying machine guns standing be
hind him that prevented my feet from moving. Was I too late?
Then Michael raised his hand to wave and the policemen moved off. My stomach relaxed a little. I pushed my ticket into the gate and manoeuvred my bag through the barrier. Then he was at my side, taking my bag, his hand on my arm. I shook it off.
‘Jasmine, how was your journey?’
‘Fine,’ I said.
He took a step backwards. ‘Let me look at you. You’ve changed your hair colour.’
‘I’m always changing my hair colour.’ The dark clusters around his chin were new too. A disguise?
‘You’ve got a beard.’
His face was a lot more creased than I expected. He had a tanned, weather beaten look about him.
‘It suits you. Jasmine… come on, let’s get a taxi.’ I followed him out of the station, weaving through people, more heavily armed policemen. French conversation fluttered through the air all around me.
Outside the station was very noisy. The road was busy with traffic and people were seated outside a row of cafes on the opposite side of the road. Michael wheeled my bag around to the side away from the crowds and the next thing I knew I was being bundled into a taxi. Michael sat in the front and the driver struck up a conversation which involved a lot of waving of hands on the driver’s part. My heart lurched every time he let go of the steering wheel, not helped by the craziness of the other cars on the road. Everything was moving very fast. I tried to take in the sights but couldn’t concentrate. I studied the back of Michael’s head. Every now and then he tried to catch my eye in the mirror. I stared resolutely out of the window. I recognised Notre Dame, and the metro signs, and we must have passed a hundred cafes, all identical looking. I saw a girl drinking a green liquid, which I recognised as being from the chapter on food and drink in our school textbook.
‘Are you OK Jasmine?’ Michael was asking. I nodded. ‘It’s not far now. We’re staying at a hotel near the Bastille area.’
We lurched through a few narrow streets, the driver impatiently honking on his horn. I had never experienced such noisy traffic before. Every now and then he slammed his hand down on the steering wheel and cursed loudly. I was glad I didn’t know what he was saying.
We drove slowly along an energetic street full of small shops and cafes, then turned into a less busy narrow road, where the driver parked the car, leapt out and took my case out of the boot. Michael handed some notes to the driver and they shook hands. The street was made up of very tall old looking buildings. It was notably quiet after the hustle and bustle just around the corner.
‘This is us,’ said Michael, pointing to a large impersonal looking building, with hundreds of little windows looking down at us. ‘Come on up. Sara can’t wait to meet you. Caroline told you about Sara didn’t she?’
Michael put his key in the tall impersonal door and turned. He stepped inside.
I stayed outside the door.
‘Sara? I thought her name was Nora?’ A strange expression flittered across his face. ‘I suppose you mean your wife. The one you abandoned us for.’
Concern erased the baffled expression from Michael’s face.
‘Jasmine,’ he said. ‘It wasn’t really like that. There are things I need to tell you, but let’s get you settled in first.’ He took a step towards me, coming out of the doorway. ‘You don’t know how happy I am to see you.’
I shrugged and he turned away and I followed behind him and waited while he checked me in at the reception. He spoke fast fluent French and although I didn’t want to be, I was impressed. Then we stepped into a tiny lift, where I was much closer to him than I was comfortable with. I held tightly onto my case until the lift had creaked it’s way impossibly slowly to the fifth floor.
‘Come and meet Sara, then I’ll show you to your room. We’re only a couple of doors along from you.’
I walked along in a sort of trance. I couldn’t quite believe that I was really with my father, and he was behaving like it was all completely normal. I pulled my bag into the doorway, letting it prop the door half open.
The room was large, plain and very white, with a double bed, comfy chair, a flat screen television and not much else in it. A tall woman was standing by the window.
‘Jasmine,’ she said, ‘I’m so pleased to meet you.’ She was incredibly pretty, with shoulder length dark hair. She was wearing a neat skirt suit and a scarf around her neck. Her eyes and skin were dark brown. She spoke English with a heavy French accent. ‘Please come and sit down.’
I sat down on the chair. It was soft and squishy and I sank down into it, suddenly exhausted.
‘Can I get you a drink?’ she asked.
‘Just water please,’ I said. She opened a tiny fridge which was hidden under the TV, poured out a glass and set it down at my side. I looked around.
Michael hovered by the side of the bed. ‘I know this is a very strange situation,’ he looked at Sara – ‘for all of us. I’m going to show you to your room and let you relax for a bit, then we’ll all have something to eat and try and get to know one another. I want you to feel at home here.’
‘Michael,’ Sara said. ‘When are you going to tell Jasmine…?’
Michael cast a warning look at Sara and surprise registered on her face. He shook his head.
‘We’ll talk later,’ he said, raising his voice. She looked uncomfortable.
‘Do you need to let Caroline know you are here?’ he asked me. ‘You can use the telephone in your room.’
‘It’s OK, I’ll text her later.’ I said. ‘I’m a bit tired.’
‘Let me show you to your room,’ said Sara. ‘I’ll help you with your bag.’
She took my case, which was leaning against the wall and frowned at the weight of it. ‘It’s heavy!’ she exclaimed.
‘I’ll do it,’ I said, taking the handle from her. At that moment there was a knock at the door. Sara pushed past Michael, opened the door and spoke rapidly in French. I couldn’t see who she was speaking to. She sounded agitated. She came back into the room followed by a young girl.
‘But Maman,’ the girl was saying as she came in, stopping mid-sentence when she caught sight of me. She looked about my age; she was slim, wearing a dark jacket and jeans. A white headscarf was draped around her head. She had the same dark skin as Sara. She stared at me and her mouth fell open in surprise. I stared back, feeling suddenly dizzy. Who was this girl? There was something familiar about her. We stared at each other. Michael came back into the room.
‘What are you doing here?’ His raised voice made me jump.
‘Did you really expect me to stay away?’ she said. Michael looked embarrassed.
‘Are you going to tell me what’s going on?’ I asked. I couldn’t take my eyes off the girl. She smiled at me.
‘Hello Jasmine,’ she said. ‘I’m Malika. I’m your half-sister.’
CHAPTER 19
Something exploded inside my head. I pushed past the girl and ran out of the door, along the corridor, down all the stairs and out into the street. I hurtled blindly past a few doorways until I collided with a man. He shouted incomprehensible words at me and I ran again, turning into an alleyway, where I tried to control my breathing. My chest hurt. I took in several deep breaths until I could stand up straight. A shuffling noise behind me made me turn quickly, my heartbeat picking up pace.
Malika. My sister.
‘Please,’ she said. ‘Don’t run away again. I’m your friend.’
Looking at her up close gave me an extraordinary sensation. Her eyes were dark brown, and shaped just like Michael’s. Gran always said I had Michael’s eyes. Wisps of dark hair stuck out from under her scarf.
‘Come with me,’ she said, ‘there’s a little park around the corner, we can stay there for a moment.’
I followed her, not knowing what else to do, somehow drawn to her. She led me back out onto the main street, where we crossed the road and went into a small park opposite. It was tiny, but the bench we sat on was in the sun and was opposite
an ice cream kiosk.
‘Wait there,’ she said, then disappeared off to the kiosk, coming back with two bottles of cold water.
I held the refreshingly cold bottle against my burning cheek, before taking a welcome sip.
‘You didn’t know about me, did you?’
I shook my head, my eyes filling with tears. Rage was making my head pound.
‘I should never have come,’ I said.
‘Don’t say that.’ She turned around on the bench to face me, pulling her legs up under her. ‘If you hadn’t come we would never have met. You’re my sister. I’ve always wanted a sister.’
Her eyes roamed over my face, looking into my eyes, as if searching for answers.
‘How old are you?’ I asked.
‘Fourteen.’
I bit down on my lip until it hurt.
‘And you?’ she asked.
‘Fifteen.’
I could see she was doing the same calculations in her head as I was doing in mine.
‘How long have you known about me?’ I asked.
‘For about six months. But now everything makes sense. Papa has been strange for the last few weeks, acting as if something was about to happen. Yesterday he told me that you were coming here.’
Hearing her say ‘Papa,’ like that cut into me.
‘Aren’t you angry?’ I asked.
‘There are too many things in this world to be angry about. I wish he had told me earlier but I can’t change the past. I’m just so glad you are here.’
‘Why has he kept me a secret? I don’t understand.’ I stood up and started pacing up and down, the anger returning. ‘Why did he tell you and not me?’ A thought suddenly occurred to me. I sat back down again, deflated. ‘Does my mum know about this?’ I shivered. Despite the sunshine a breeze had sprung up. Malika tucked a strand of hair back under her headscarf.
‘Why are you wearing a headscarf?’
‘I’m a Muslim,’ she said.
‘But your mum isn’t wearing one.’
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