by John Morris
Ayesha lay on her bed, and thought of her elder sister, who she hardly ever saw anymore. They had been best friends, until she was married. Nowadays, she lived with her husband, and seemed to be a different person, a living caricature of their mother.
What she disliked most, as compared to the western society she believed she belonged to, was that women were slaves of men, who behaved like despots. There was no love in their family, only terror.
She slept badly, but determined to go to school the next day, Monday. It was her only chance of escape. She was still sore from the lashing, but worried if she could summon the courage to leave?
She had woken early, extremely sore and tense. Her father was already shouting at her mother, and they were only just out of bed. Her younger sister was still asleep beside her, but Ayesha listened intently. “She will go to school today, and be put under guard when she returns. I will take her, and collect her.”
“But husband, the beating you gave her was severe, I think she should stay home.”
“Nonsense, a beating never hurt anybody, as you should know. Do I need to give you another?”
“No, husband, it will be as you wish. I must begin breakfast, excuse me.”
It seemed to Ayesha, that her parents controlled her life, regardless of her wishes. Soon, her future husband would control the rest of her life. She could never imagine cowering to a man, as her mother had just done.
While her younger sister slept, she embarked upon an audacious and dangerous plan, fearing it would never work. She hid her schoolwork, and filled her bag with clothes and a few favourite personal items.
She needed one more thing, and when her turn came to use the bathroom, she was extremely quick. As she hoped, there was a moment for her to enter her parent’s bedroom. She knew where her father kept the document she needed, in a locked case in his wardrobe. She took the key from its hiding place, replacing it immediately the suitcase was open
Her passport was near the bottom of the pile, and taking it, she noticed a small stack of envelopes beneath. One had her name on it, and she opened it. Inside was a handwritten bill of sale in Arabic. She froze, dropping the paper; she been sold to the man she thought of as her father, for two thousand pounds.
A fire lit within her. These people were not her family, they had no rights over her. She put the bill of sale back in the envelope, keeping that and the passport. She checked the other envelopes, discovering all her brothers and sisters had been bought like animals.
She searched, and found a medical report. The person she had thought of as her father was sterile. She put everything else back as it was and, checking the corridor with her heart aflutter, returned to the bathroom undiscovered.
Her normal routine kicked in, when her younger sister banged on the door, complaining of being late. Ayesha played her part, as if this were a normal day, and despite grimaces of pain, managed to finish breakfast, waiting to be dropped off at school. Her father had recently insisted she transfer to a Muslim school, and she hated it.
She continued her act, and did not look back. She knew her father would be watching until she entered the school buildings. Once inside, she headed for the female toilets, and waited until morning prayers began.
She knew teachers, administrators, and security would be watchful, so she deftly made her way to the gymnasium. That was the place perverted male teachers ogled the young girls. She had been devastated when she found out, but it fitted the male Muslim psyche. A storeroom was unlocked, with a window that led to the ally at the side of the school. She had been there twice before. Smokers used it. She had tried a few puffs but disliked it intensely. Now it was her means of escape.
She slipped out of the window, closing it behind her, and ran for the back road. Once clear, she walked quickly away from school, and her known world. A bus came along and she rushed for the stop, just making it in time. She swiped her travel card, and got off at a busy shopping centre. She overdrew cash on her limited card, but had three hundred pounds in her pocket.
She wanted to sit and consider her future, her next moves, but heard a familiar voice approaching. She hid until the danger was passed, knowing a new threat could appear at any second. She had to get far away.
Her back was causing her intense pain if she moved the wrong way. She thought several wounds had reopened, and worried about blood marks showing through. Despite the pain, she hefted her bag on her back to cover any leaks, and made for a bus stop at the interchange. She had no idea where she was headed, except away.
Most buses were local, but the first intercity coach that came along said Norwich on the front. She hailed it and it stopped. She got on, and took a seat midway back. She ducked down, hiding her face until they were out in the countryside.
The enormity of her situation began to crash down on her, but she battled the impending doom of feeling worthless, by re-reading her adoption paper. It was a bill of sale such as one would prepare for an animal, yet it gave her heart to carry on.
The journey was long, several hours, but her mind had turned to the future, tentative plans of what she would do when she arrived in an unknown city.
As she planned, she fretted. She bent and ripped her bankcard to pieces, it was a means to track her. She knew her mobile phone was another, and although already turned it off, she removed the sim card, but kept it and the phone.
The bus got to Wymondham, close to her destination, where a couple of brutish, British thugs got on board. They were drunk, had shaved heads, and were looking for trouble. Ayesha ducked down and tried to become a small thing.
They spat at her as they passed, and later, started hassling her. They tried to grope her, and called her nasty names. “Best you get off dear, most folk hereabouts don’t like your kind, bombing the innocent, and raping children.”
“Yours is the religion of hate and bums in the air. Child rape and misogynism...”
The world Ayesha knew seemed to disintegrate. She tried to deny their words, but they stung her heart. She knew they were true. She was also a victim of Muslim men, which was why she was running away.
She implored other passengers to help, but was ignored, until the driver pulled the bus over, and threatened the two with eviction. In support, an old lady got up and, brandishing her umbrella, bawled the youths out. She said to Ayesha, “Come, sit up front with me dear, you’ll be safer there. Ignore these halfwits.”
Her escape to a new world was not working out as she had hoped, but at least she was free. She could do as she wished, and would not have her sexual organs mutilated the next day.
Her mind was scattering, when a voice intruded. “Now then me deary, what’re you doing alone, all the way out here? Do you have a name? I’m Rosie.”
She looked up at the old woman who seemed to have become her chaperone, a local by her accent. Ayesha nodded her head; words failed her.
“Where thee be going?”
Ayesha shrugged her shoulders.
The old woman said, “I see. Tell me what your problem is…” and she wittered on, seemingly forever, eventually gleaning small bits of information from Ayesha, which she associated into a larger whole.
As they approached the city, the thugs got off, and Ayesha gave a big sigh of relief. She took several deep breaths, smiled, and was able to concentrate better on what the old woman was saying. Ayesha looked directly at the old woman, and said, “Rosie, we arrive soon. I have no idea what I will do, or where I should go. Can you advise me?”
“You are looking for a free handout?”
“No, never. I don’t know this city at all, and fear my own people will recognise me, and drag me back to forced marriage. I need to disappear from them, find work, and a place to stay. One bedroom is fine.”
“I see. That puts a different complexion on things. Are you educated, do you have any skills?”
“I was studying second year A levels in Physics and Electronics. Also English Literature, because I like it. I know how to darn, sew, cook, and clean
house. I don’t mind being a servant, just as long as I am safe from my family.”
“You mentioned an arranged marriage. I thought that was illegal?”
“Not to our people. They are so tribal. I am not like them. Today I found out I was sold as a baby, so they aren’t even my real family. I have no idea where my real parents are, or even who they are.” Her tears came again. Ayesha felt fragile.
Rosie said, “Surely an arranged marriage can’t be that bad. You will grow to love your husband in time. It was often that way in this country, even one century ago. The rich still do it today.”
“I hate them all. They are misogynists. Do you really want to hear what my life would have become, if I had not escaped?”
“Yes dear, tell me the all of it.”
Ayesha spilled her heart and left nothing out. She described the kitchen table operation for extreme genital mutilation in great detail, the blunt paring knife, no anaesthetic, or aftercare. The removal of clitoris, labia major and minor, and being sewn up very tight, so she could not piss properly. And then she described the life of slavery she would endure for her future mother in law, and her husband, a fanatically devout Muslim who believed in full Sharia Law.
Rosie gaped in horror.
“Last night I refused my father’s direct order to marry this beast, and received fifty lashes. My mother and siblings held me down. My back and buttocks are still extremely painful.”
Rosie thought quickly, as the bus pulled into the terminal. “Come with me. You have money?”
“Yes, a little, but it will soon be gone unless I find work.”
“I know someone with a room to rent, for cash. I also know of a few jobs going in local places, off the beaten track. By tomorrow, you should have a new life. Interested?”
“Oh yes. Thank you, thank you so much. I can never repay your kindness, but I will try.”
They caught a local bus to a nearby village, and Rosie’s home.
Chapter 11 ~ New Directions
Dan completed his morning routine, and arrived early at the office. Discovering he had not eaten, Misses Nicholas began preparing breakfast for him.
Percy arrived at a quarter to seven, ready to relieve the others, but asked for breakfast butties and a flask of tea to be sent up, as he had left before his wife woke.
Dan sat him down at the kitchen table and said, “Eat mine.” Taking the projection sheet, he locked the office, and went to relieve Ben and Charlie. Misses Nicholas continued cooking full English breakfast.
Ben was on his own. “I sent Charlie back just after four, he’s not well. He was on about going home, but I doubt he was up to driving.”
“Shit. He’s worse than I thought. His car is still parked behind the office, so he’ll be sleeping.”
“Don’t blame yourself. You relieving me, Percy a no show.”
“No, he’s having breakfast, and yours is being prepared. Let’s compare logs, then you can go to sleep where and when you wish.”
Less than a minute passed, as the logs were in the same format, one from observation, and another from the software installed. They were identical.
Dan said, “It took me thirty minutes to do my log, you were here all night. It doesn’t make sense for you to man the hide. Stay, eat, sleep, or go home, the choice is yours to make. I’ll see you after ten on Wednesday.”
“Thanks Dan. I’ll eat and go home, sleep in my own bed. The misses will be up and out, so it should be my best sleep in ages.”
Ben departed, and Percy arrived a short time later. “Percy, let me show you the overnight logs, spot any difference?”
“No, they’re the same. That makes a big difference. Are we moving on to a new plan?”
“Yes, although I would like to have you around for at least another week. Ma’am has already signed off on it, unless you have any objections?”
“I’m fine, Dan. Enjoying the role, and where it may lead. So today?”
“Time to wrap up. Help me carry this lot back to our new office.”
“It will require two trips.”
“Three. I’ll need a hand with the generator. It’s no longer required as the fires and cooker are gone.”
“What will we do afterwards?”
“I thought we should visit some ghost villages this morning, find out what is, and is not, going on. This afternoon, I should be able to spend in an aircraft tracking station to learn more about the bigger picture. Care to join me?”
“You bet. I’d love to know what this is all about, although I already have my own thoughts about it.”
Dan smiled and said, “You’re probably correct, but think big, much bigger. I don’t know the answers yet, but we are headed in the right direction. Please hold the telescope while I free it from the tripod.”
Once everything was stored in the office, Dan showed Percy how to make a backup, and then use it to compile the log. Percy was a little unsure, so Dan said, “We’ll do it together tomorrow, you working, and I watching. You’ll soon get the hang of it. It’s a bit like a video, but with pan and zoom facility.”
Once Percy’s training was completed, Dan prepared a video log to show the RAF what was happening on the ground. They heard noises upstairs, followed by someone coming down. Dan locked the office, and they went through to the kitchen. Misses Nicholas was cooking another breakfast, despite Charlie’s protestations.
Dan held out his hand. “Charlie, thank you for all your help, we needed you, and you stepped up to fill that breach. Please take this envelope as a sign of our appreciation, including full payment for last night. Now go and enjoy your retirement. Ben here’s one for you, thank you also.
Just then there came a rap on the rear door; it was opened to reveal Slugger glancing around furtively. He was carrying a hessian sack. “Now which of thee good gents and lady, wants a brace of plump rabbits, or a fine cock pheasant. Caught him this morning o’er by Willets Green. Lovely young bird. Feel the breast.”
Heads shook, but Charlie enquired, “How much Slugger?”
“This pheasant, he be worth a lot more. But for the local law I’ll deal for twenty pound. Cash, you understand.”
Charlie tried to haggle, but was no match for the poacher. He ended up paying five pounds more, but the pheasant would be hung for a week, and oven-ready. Slugger concluded the trade, “That be ‘perfic’. I’ll gift thee the giblets an’ all. A fine meal for the Lord’s Day. Drop by Sunday morning. The misses goes to church. I be in the gutting shed.”
As soon as slugger departed, Dan said, “Excuse me people, but I have a report to make. Say thirty minutes, Percy.”
The report took a little longer to file than expected, as the Director wanted a word with him, but the clarity of sharing face to face was worth the lost time. Later, Dan found Percy studying a large-scale ordinance survey map of the greater area.
“Ah Dan. I’ve been doing a little homework, and thought we should take this route. What do you think?”
Percy traced a network of country roads with his finger, and Dan said, “That’s fine Percy. Could we take your car, as I’d like to take pictures, video maybe, and regardless, you know these local roads. I’ll show you how to fill in a mileage form to claim as expenses.”
“There’s no need for that Dan. I’ve been filling out travel vouchers for years. It’s almost nine o’clock, when do you want to leave?”
“Now suits me fine.”
They began what would become known as ‘the grand tour’. The first village was slightly larger than their home base, and still supported a shop come Post Office. Percy went in as Dan videoed. Minutes later Percy reported, “They’ve seen no immigrants around here. I bought some water. Here. Onwards.”
The next village was not on Percy’s beat, and looked desolate. Most of the houses were boarded up, only a few showing signs of life. Dan again shot video, speaking the village name, and adding observations.
“Percy, we need local information. Drive around, I’ll get road and house names and
numbers. I think we should speak to a resident, if anyone’s about.”
They toured the village. Only two houses were definitely occupied, but no one appeared to be home. They found a similar situation at the next two villages, repeating their routine at the next: Ribblesford.
They were about to knock doors, when an elderly man rushed towards them brandishing a walking stick. He was shouting. “What you snooping at? Get out of here and don’t come back.”
They got out of the car, and the man slowed to look at them, continuing to close the distance, but the threat had faded. Dan set his phone to voice recording, and put it, mic facing outwards, into his top shirt pocket. He said, “Good day sir. We are here on official business, checking on the number of vacant dwellings in this area. Can you tell us what is happening?”
“Maybe, maybe not. Depends who’s asking. I’ll take it you’re not Muslim?”
“No sir. Christian, both of us. I’m Detective Glover, and this is Constable Blodwell of Lower Meddlington Police.”
Percy produced his warrant card, and the man’s attitude changed at once, but he was still wary. “I still wants to know what you’re abouts.”
At a nod from Dan, Percy took over. “We’re not interested in you sir, your business is your own affair. But there are a lot of villages hereabouts like this one. We want to know where the people went, and why. Who owns the empty houses?”
The man began to reply, but Dan asked, “Is there anywhere to talk, where I could sit down to make notes? I’m sure what you tell us will be invaluable, and it will be kept confidential.”
“Well I suppose I could ask the misses to make a brew, but first, tell me your real interest.”
Dan took a chance, given what the old man had already said. “We are concerned about Muslim people taking over villages, such as this one…”
He had not finished speaking, when the man began a rant, leading them towards his home. “They’s been here thee knows, frightening people out-er their wits. Once neighbours leave, them Muslims gangs come. They be changing the locks on houses, putting stuff inside, dumping other stuff outside, making the village a tip. I told them to go. They have no right here. I got threatened for me trouble, and now they’re trying to drive us out.