by Liz Mistry
Before Gus could inquire about the nature of the disruption, Ms Copley, seemingly anticipating the question, shook her head. ‘Nothing terrible: persistent low-level interruptions such as throwing things, scraping chairs, singing and being generally annoying.’ She flicked a glance at Gus. ‘Initially, we kept them in the same form groups. Then, when things got bad, we split them into different forms in the hope that, away from Shamshad’s disruptive influence, Neha would settle down. The strategy worked in so far as the disruption lessened. However, Neha became withdrawn, and her tutors noticed that, already a slim child, she was becoming even skinnier. Further investigation showed she was also self-harming.’
After a perfunctory knock, the office door re-opened, and Cath returned carrying a tray with coffee and biscuits, which she placed on the small table, before leaving with a smile.
Patricia busied herself preparing the drinks, as she continued, ‘After consultation with various agencies, the girls themselves and their mother, we decided Neha would benefit by being in classes alongside her sister. Shamshad, in turn, realised, despite her youth, her sister needed her to be a different, less angry person. She rose to the challenge and modified her own behaviour somewhat. In effect, she became her sister’s support mechanism.’
Sipping his coffee whilst Alice munched her way through a Breakaway biscuit, Gus thought about what the Head Teacher had said. It sounded like the girls been through the mill, and he was concerned this might knock them back. It seemed their bond was what held them together. A bit like how things had been between him and Katie … before she took off with his wife, that is. Anger rose in his chest, and he sat up straighter, focussing on the matter at hand. ‘Was it solely the break-up of their parents’ marriage that contributed to the twins’ behaviour?’
Patricia sighed. ‘Unfortunately not. The circumstances of the break-up were quite distressing. The girls’ mother is a very devout Muslim, and their father was, by all accounts, a womaniser.’ Her lips thinned. ‘Apparently, on more than one occasion, Razaul Ul Haq infected his wife with an STI. As a result, Mrs Ul Haq became more and more, shall we say, disassociated from reality? When the break-up happened, Mrs Ul Haq couldn’t cope and became obsessive about her religion, praying continuously, disciplining the girls for imagined slights to her or Islam by locking them in the cellar or whipping them.’
She took a sip of coffee. ‘Ultimately, after various suicide attempts, Razaul Ul Haq’s brother stepped in and took the girls in, whilst Mrs Ul Haq was sectioned. I believe she is still an in-patient at Lynfield Mount Psychiatric Hospital. Although Shamshad visits her regularly, Neha refuses to. Neither girl has had contact with their father, to my knowledge, although, on occasion, he has made attempts to contact them via social services. I am not sure what effect the death of their father, in these circumstances, will have on the girls. However, I have requested their social worker be present when you interview them. She is with them now and has, at the behest of their uncle, informed them of their father’s death.’
Although slightly annoyed to have been blindsided by this information, Gus knew Ms Copley would have been negligent in her duty of care to the Ul Haq twins, had she not implemented the strategy she’d just outlined. Gus could only hope the social worker wasn’t a jobsworth who would obstruct his investigation by molly-coddling the girls too much. After all, there was a murderer at large, and they needed to catch him quickly. Any information from the girls might be crucial.
When he felt the pull of tension between his eyebrows, Gus realised he was frowning and a quick glance at Alice, who shook her head at him, confirmed this. With a conscious effort, he widened his eyes, removing the frown, and hoped his displeasure hadn’t been too obvious. Meanwhile, the Head Teacher appeared to be scrutinising him with an indefinable expression. He cringed. God, he was making a real hash of this. Much to his relief, a sharp rap on the door pulled her gaze away from Gus. ‘Come in.’
The door opened, and a small woman entered carrying a large shoulder bag from which protruded the edges of two or three different coloured folders. A ready grin was on her face as she moved towards them. Ms Copley stood and with a smile, introduced the woman, ‘This is the twins’ social worker, Naila …’
Gus jumped to his feet and wrapped his arms round Naila, releasing her only when the Head Teacher’s intake of breath reached him. He turned, conscious he was blinking like a startled doe as he tried to keep his habitual frown from his face. What was wrong with the woman? What had he done wrong now?
Before he had a chance to respond to the look of horror on Copley’s face, Naila spoke. ‘What’s up with you, Patti?’
Ms Copley, who, until then, had maintained a professional calm, became flustered, flapping her hands, shoulders taut. ‘Some Muslim women are uncomfortable with men, other than their husbands, touching them.’
Gus cocked his head to one side and winked at Naila, indicating she should respond. She squeezed Gus’ arm and lowered her bag to the floor beside the empty chair. ‘Don’t know why you’re getting your knickers in a twist, Patti. Gus is Mo’s best friend. He’s like a brother to me. No need to get all aeriated.’
She turned back to Gus. ‘Patti and I went to Belle Vue Girls School together many moons ago. She was a goody-two-shoes, over-protective mother hen then as well … and too politically correct for her own good sometimes.’
Risking a glance at the Head Teacher, who had sat down again and was grinning at Naila, he thought he’d never seen anyone who looked less like a goody-two-shoes … or, for that matter, a mother hen.
Naila sat down. ‘Remember the argument about The Three Little Pigs? You were really angry when Mark told you they’d read it to his class at story time.’ She turned to Gus and Alice. ‘Mark’s her brother. She was all for complaining to the school about it, because there were Muslims in the class. Took all my best efforts to convince her that unless Mark’s teacher was forcing the Muslim kids to eat the ‘little piggies,’ it was okay to hear a story about them.’
Patti released a belly laugh, surprising Gus by its sheer raucousness. ‘I’d forgotten all about that, Naila. How things have changed.’
Naila punched her lightly on the arm and turned to Alice. ‘Good to have you back, Al. You look great. Love the bobble hat.’
Chapter 17
14:15 Hawthorn Drive, Eccleshill
Christine stared at the dusting of lily pollen that dotted the windowsill. She’d have already nipped the stamen off, if she hadn’t been distracted last night.
Remembering, she prodded the slight swell beneath her eye and grimaced. Graeme had been so angry, and she couldn’t really blame him. This was so much worse, though, wasn’t it? How could he not have told her of his intentions? It was bad enough he was involved in all that stuff, but to actually publicise himself as their official representative for the by-election was beyond her understanding. Shuddering, she wrapped her arms tightly across her body. How could he have kept this from her? She’d put up with his sexism because he was a good father and provided her with everything she needed on a financial and material level … this, though … was something completely different. He was risking everything for the sake of his own over-inflated ego.
A tear rolled down her cheek, and with an impatient hand, she wiped it away. After she’d seen the headline in the Bradford Chronicle and calmed herself down, she went straight to Patti Copley’s office. One look at Patti’s face told her she’d already seen the article, and before she’d even uttered a word, Christine knew what the outcome of the meeting would be. Sure, Patti had re-iterated it was only temporary, ‘til things died down,’ but Christine knew she’d never walk back through those school doors again.
She was worried about Jacob too. How would he be faring at school? Would his friends know already? How would they and their parents react? No doubt, some would agree with Graeme’s sentiments. Bradford voted for Brexit, so there had to be a fair few Albion First supporters crawling around in the woodwork. Although she knew that
most Brexiteers weren’t racists, she was also aware Albion First was gaining more and more supporters. Disagreeing with her husband’s politics, she’d voted remain, although she’d never admit it to him. Best to keep those sorts of things secret. She grimaced. Mind you, someone had other ideas, didn’t they? The bastard who took those damn photos was definitely turning the knife, and judging by Graeme’s reaction the previous night, he was not impressed. In light of the paper’s revelations, Christine understood why he’d been so incensed. Bad enough for the Albion First candidate’s wife to be caught in an adulterous act on the eve of his public announcement, but for it to be with an Asian man was one step too far. Good job the papers hadn’t got wind of it.
To her, it was obvious who was to blame, both for Graeme’s deceit and for his reckless actions. It was bloody Michael Hogg. There was no love lost between Michael and Christine, although this was extreme, even for him. She could almost hear his fawning tones, stroking her husband’s already elevated ego. Buttering him up, he’d plant grandiose ideas her stupid, vain husband was gullible enough to accept as truth. She hated Michel Hogg with a vengeance. He was despicable and lecherous. On more than one occasion, she’d had to fight him off at the Albion First parties. Sleazy little bastard always seemed to have half an eye on the dark corners where he could feel up one of his brain-dead acolytes. Didn’t seem to matter most of them were married or, in her case, that she was the wife of his so-called best friend.
It was Marcia she felt sorry for, though. Poor sod wasn’t stupid. Christine had seen the look on her face when she’d spotted Michael disappearing into a corner with some floozy or other. No, Marcia Hogg was well aware of what her husband got up to. Seemed like she and Marcia had something in common after all … duplicitous partners. She wondered what guilty little secret Marcia had. After all, no-one was one hundred percent innocent, were they? Maybe she had a thing for her boss. It wouldn’t surprise her; Graeme could be a smooth operator when he wanted.
Christine poured herself another glass of wine from the bottle she’d opened when she got home. It was nearly empty now; still, she didn’t care. Its numbing effect was a welcome distraction from the pain. She hit redial on her phone, knowing it would go straight to voicemail. None of the men in her life seemed keen to talk to her today.
Chapter 18
14:30 City Academy, Manchester Road
Naila needed a private word with the Head Teacher, so Gus and Alice had agreed to wait outside her office. Now, he was beginning to regret it. Kids in coloured polo shirts, arms filled with books, chattering as they walked to their next class, made him feel old. A few of them eyed Gus and Alice with interest as they skirted around them. One smart-ass waited until he was level with them before pushing his friend. The hefty lad fell against Alice, who, in turn, banged her arm against the wall. Straightening, Gus scowled at the perpetrator who lowered his head and sped up, clearly anxious to put as much distance between them as he could.
He turned to Alice. ‘You okay?’
‘It’ll take more than that little scrote to knock me down.’ She reached over and squeezed his arm. ‘I’m fine, Gus. Really, I am. You need to stop worrying about me.’
Thrusting his hands in his pockets, Gus shrugged. ‘Don’t flatter yourself, Al. I wasn’t worried about you. It was him I was bothered about. Thought you might deck him, and how would I explain that to the very scary Ms Patti Copley, Head Teacher?’
Alice snorted. ‘Don’t give me that ‘very scary Ms Copley’ shit, Gus. I know you found her attractive. Hell, if I were to ‘turn’ for anyone, it’d be her.’
Gus nudged her with his shoulder. ‘Inappropriate, Al … and,’ he sniffed and bowed his head, his tone low, ‘if I may say so, under the recent circumstances, just a tad insensitive, don’t you think?’
From the corner of his eye, he saw Alice’s head jerk up, and then, he was grinning. ‘Got ya.’
‘Idiot. I’d forgotten all about Gabriella and your sis. I’ll back-track and take my size tens out of my mouth, shall I?’
‘Don’t worry. If you weren’t putting your foot in it, I would think there was summat wrong with you.’
Looking indignant, Alice banged him on the arm. Yelping, Gus jumped, raising his hand to cradle his arm.
Alice frowned. ‘What’s up with you? I only tapped you.’
Attempting to look innocent, Gus pursed his lips. ‘Nothing, you caught me by surprise, that’s all.’
‘Don’t believe you. What’s up with your arm?’
‘Nothing, I told you.’
Hands on hips, Alice glared at him. ‘I know when you’re lying, Gus. You’re like a two-year-old, and your face goes all beetrooty.’
‘Beetrooty? Beetrooty? You’re mad. How can someone with my ‘deeelicious mocha complexion’ look like a damn beetroot? Just not going to happen.’
Alice was not to be put off. She glared at him until he gave in. ‘Okay, okay. Don’t tell my mum, though, will you? Promise?’
Raising an eyebrow, Alice shook her head from side to side in slow motion. ‘How old are you, Gus?’
He fixed his eyes on her face and folded his arms.
‘Okay, okay … I promise.’
Gus leaned forward and whispered in her ear, ‘I got a tattoo on my arm yesterday.’
Bursting out laughing, Alice shook her head. ‘You nearly had me then … tattoo indeed.’
Looking indignant now, Gus narrowed his eyes. ‘I did. Mo took me. I got a small image of Greg’s Bob Marley painting on my arm, so there!’
Inclining her head, apparently convinced, Alice said, ‘Well, well, well, so you’re not such a wuss after all. You can show me it later.’
Gus opened his mouth to reply and was interrupted by Naila stepping out of Patti Copley’s room. She led them a few doors down and, chattering nineteen to the dozen, opened another door. Gesturing inside, all three of them entered, and she closed the door behind them.
Although the room wasn’t quite as big as Patti Copley’s, it was equally calming. One of the Ul Haq twins sat on top of the Deputy Head Teacher’s desk, the other on a comfy chair in front of a small coffee table with two unopened bottles of water on top.
The girl by the coffee table appeared to be nervous. Her slender fingers were clenched white in her lap. An ornate hijab framed the girl’s face and one of the long-sleeved, floor-sweeping dresses, fashionable with Muslim girls, covered the rest of her. She glanced over at her sister as Gus, Alice and Naila entered and then lowered her head. Seemingly under the pretence of lifting one of the water bottles from the table, she avoided their greeting. Tilting her head, she looked at her sister and said, ‘Sham?’
Sham, her legs dangling down, her heels drumming a regular rhythm against the wooden table, smiled at her sister and maintained her tattoo. Her shiny black boots were in danger of doing serious damage to the desk. She wore a pair of skinny jeans and a crop top, both in black. The top skimmed her pierced navel, its sleeves cut short above a tattooed Celtic band that circled her upper arm. From her upper lip shone a small diamante and a line of steel studs glinted across the top of each ear with a complimentary row fanning from her lobe backwards. Her hair was short, spiked and purple.
Naila gave her a look and gestured for the girl to join them. In one lithe movement, she jumped down and plonked herself down beside her sister. Snatching a bottle of water, she stared at them her look a challenge. She opened the bottle and flinging her head back, gulped like a greedy toddler, spilling water down her chin.
The other girl sighed almost silently and stretched out her hand to touch her sister’s arm. ‘Come on, Sham. Stop it now. I need you.’
Naila gestured for Gus and Alice to take the other two comfy chairs whilst she wheeled the desk chair over and sat between the girls. Gus took the time to observe the twins. In the back of his mind, he’d been concerned he may not be able to differentiate between the two and may end up forgetting which was which. He found it difficult to focus at the best of times without massi
ve amounts of caffeine, frequent breaks and recapping, but the Ul Haq twins had made his job easy. They were so dissimilar he’d have no difficulty telling them apart. He glanced at Alice, sneaking a wink.
Patti had told them one of the girls had real issues, and he was nearly certain she’d intimated it was Neha who had the issues and Shamshad who held things together for them. His glance slid from one girl to the other. Either he’d got the names muddled up in his mind, or he’d need to readjust his perceptions pretty damn quickly. The girl in the hijab had called her sister ‘Sham,’ so, if he’d not misremembered, that would mean the goth was the stronger sister.
Before he had a chance to say anything, Alice, her tone excited, leaned forward on her chair and addressed Shamshad Ul Haq. ‘Love your boots, Sham. Just love them! You don’t mind if I call you Sham, do you? I heard your sister call you that. Is it okay?’
Gus smiled and settled back. Alice, as usual, was working her charm. Her gushing chatter had put the girls at ease, and the way she identified with Shamshad Ul Haq was something he couldn’t hope to achieve in a million years. As he watched, Alice flashed her smile at Neha and held out her hand to shake. Neha glanced at her sister and then, with obvious reluctance, extended her hand and touched Alice’s fingers. Almost immediately, she pulled her hand away and thrust it inside the sleeve of her opposite arm, repeating the gesture with her right hand. As the fabric fell away, Gus saw the pale white slashes of self-harm on her wrists. To accord the girl her privacy, he averted his gaze and saw Naila watching him. Her sad smile acknowledged the deductions he’d already made. With a slight head shake, Gus turned to observe Sham and Alice.
Like her old bouncy self, Alice engaged the girl in idle chatter. Gus was relieved. After what she’d been through, he hadn’t been sure what to expect. He still thought she’d returned to work too soon, yet he knew better than to voice his concerns too often. Instead, he’d keep a watching brief on her. Make sure she didn’t over-stretch herself. Mind you, at the minute, she seemed to be having the time of her life, comparing tattoos and boots and suchlike. He was aware of Neha watching her sister with Alice. Her shoulders were hunched, and under the sleeves of her dress, she scratched her arms ferociously.