Secrets of the Henna Girl

by Sufiya Ahmed

  ‘I think this is it.’

  The English she spoke was delivered in a Midlands accent. She sounded just like Sehar. A flicker of hope ignited in my chest, but I ignored it. Perhaps she was a Birmingham relative come to visit Sher Shah’s family.

  A white man with blond hair emerged from the car.

  I saw Uncle Tahir approach the couple and exchange words. Then Uncle Tahir called out to his wife urgently and Nusrat-kala ran outside. She listened intently to her husband, shook hands with the couple and then turned to run back into the house. I frowned and leaned forward over the roof wall to try and catch their words, but the only sound I could hear was the frenzied clicking of Nusrat-kala’s kitten heels as she hurried up the stone steps leading to the roof. I turned to face her just as she emerged into the sunshine.

  ‘Zeba,’ she panted. ‘They are here.’

  I stared blankly at my aunt.

  ‘It’s the British High Commission. They’ve come to take you home.’

  ‘But …’ I couldn’t believe it.

  ‘You must hurry,’ Nusrat-kala urged. ‘Tahir has given five hundred dollars to the man outside. It should pay for your ticket home. We need to get you out of Pakistan urgently.’

  ‘I …’

  ‘Zeba, my darling, we have no time. Just grab a shawl and go. Tahir and I really can’t be seen to be helping you. We must pretend we know nothing for the sake of Nannyma, or your taya-ji will unleash his fury on her. We will say that you crept out without any of us realizing. We won’t sound the alarm until we think you have passed a safe distance. Now go!’

  For someone who had been yearning for this moment of escape, I hadn’t prepared for it at all well. My hands began to tremble as my mind registered the seriousness of what I was about to do. All I had to do to escape was run down the stairs, out of my nannyma’s house and into that jeep. Nearly a year ago, all Sehar had had to do was walk out of her house, get to the railway station and she would still be alive.

  ‘I’m ready!’ I cried.

  ‘Come on then!’

  Nusrat-kala turned to run back down the stairs and I was about to follow when a voice called out to me. I had forgotten all about Farhat sitting quietly on the wooden bed.

  ‘Where is you going?’ she asked in a small voice. ‘Is your henna party tonight.’

  ‘I am going to leave with those people down there.’

  ‘But is your henna night,’ Farhat insisted in a small, stubborn voice.

  I took a step forward towards the door and Farhat moved to block me. ‘Is my duty to let Abdullah stop you. Zeba-ji, you is not shaming Taya-ji’s family like this.’

  ‘You don’t work for Taya-ji,’ I spat out.

  Farhat looked perplexed. ‘But this is reputation of the village. The izzat of village. The promise has been making by your father. You have to marry.’

  ‘I won’t!’ I gritted my teeth, trying to control my anger. ‘I won’t let them kill me like they did Sehar.’

  At the mention of our friend, Farhat’s eyes widened and she took on a wounded look as if I’d hit her.

  ‘They killed Sehar!’ I cried. ‘You can’t let them kill me!’

  Farhat gulped and then nodded her head slightly. ‘Go,’ she whispered. ‘I say nothing.’

  I threw a look down below to make sure the couple was still waiting. They were looking around anxiously. It was enough to make me bolt, but I skidded to a halt when I reached the door. I turned to look at Farhat. She remained standing, looking strangely serene. I knew that if I escaped today then I would owe my life to this peasant girl. I reached Farhat in a few strides and flung my arms around her.

  ‘I love you, Fatty,’ I whispered, using Sehar’s nickname for her. The words caught in my throat.

  Farhat blushed furiously at the open display of affection. ‘You need leave. Go.’

  I turned and ran as fast as I could, down the stairs, through the courtyard and on to the veranda. The couple were staring at something, which stopped me in my tracks. I turned in the direction of their gaze and saw my nannyma. She was on her swing, her feet lightly pushing the floor to maintain the swaying motion.

  ‘Go, my daughter, go,’ she said simply.

  I burst into tears. Would I ever see my nannyma again? And Nusrat-kala and Uncle Tahir? For the first time I realized that by escaping I was potentially sacrificing contact with my entire family.

  As if sensing my thoughts, Nannyma stood up to hug me and I clung to her.

  ‘My prayers have been answered, Zeba, my beti,’ Nannyma said, untangling herself from my grip. ‘I want the world for you. Now go!’

  Chapter 28

  We sped through the wilderness of Sindh, over rocky paths and then smooth motorways until the glistening lights of Karachi appeared as a speck in the distance. From the moment the vehicle had left the village, I’d been tempted to look over my shoulder to check we weren’t being followed, but I hadn’t had the courage. Somehow I didn’t think I would be able to bear it if Sher Shah or Taya-ji crept up on us, and so I sat grim-faced with my rescuers, none of us uttering a word during the five-hour journey. Introductions didn’t seem important as I spent the time tense and in shock.

  Day had become night by the time the car pulled up outside a two-storey house. I climbed out of the vehicle and gazed up at the red brick building. It looked like the outside of a railway station, a bit like St Pancras station in the Harry Potter movies.

  ‘Is this the British High Commission?’ I asked.

  The woman looked at me kindly. ‘No,’ she said. ‘It’s a safe house, but it is the property of the British government.’

  ‘Safe house? So I will be safe from my relatives?’

  ‘Yes, you will,’ the woman assured. ‘Nobody will be able to locate you here.’

  I wasn’t convinced about the ‘safety’ that the safe house would provide for me. How could it? Sher Shah, who outranked Taya-ji in wealth, status and power, would be helping the search for me. I was sure he would know people in Karachi who could find me.

  ‘My name’s Saima by the way,’ the woman introduced herself. ‘And that there is Damian.’

  I nodded.

  Saima put her hand on my arm. ‘We’re sorry about what happened to your friend.’

  I couldn’t respond. I didn’t know how to. What should I say? Hey, thanks for rescuing me instead.

  We entered the empty house in silence and Saima led me to a room on the upper floor.

  ‘I’ll bring you something to eat,’ she offered.

  ‘No, thank you,’ I said. ‘I don’t want anything. I’m not hungry. I just need to sleep.’

  Saima nodded and left the room.

  That night I hardly slept. I lay in the stark white room on a single bed expecting the door to be broken down any minute. Perhaps I had watched too many movies where the villains caught up with the heroine. I wondered what commotion was happening in the village. I knew Taya-ji and Dad would blame Nannyma and I felt awful, but I knew she would be able to hold her own. Plus, she had Nusrat-kala and Uncle Tahir with her for support. I looked at my watch. It was just after ten. Had I been at the village, my henna ceremony would’ve been under way with girls dancing to the tabla, the traditional drum, and the women singing folk songs. Like Farhat, a yellow turmeric paste would’ve been rubbed into my skin to create a radiant glow and my hair oiled to make it silky soft.

  I buried my head under the pillow trying to block out the thoughts that invaded my mind. I didn’t want to think about what should have been happening right now. I’d wanted to escape and I had succeeded. There was no point looking back now. The minutes slowly turned into hours and I must have fallen asleep because suddenly Saima was jolting me awake.

  ‘We have to leave,’ she was saying. ‘You have a flight to catch.’

  I bolted out of bed. The magic word was flight. I was going home to England.

  ‘There’s a sh
ower room at the end of the hallway and perhaps you could fit into these clothes,’ Saima said, handing me a pair of white linen trousers and a long shirt.

  I took them gratefully and ten minutes later I was ready. Saima offered me some tea and biscuits, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to swallow anything. My heart was in my mouth I was so nervous. Damian came into the room with a rucksack flung over his shoulder. Finally we were ready to leave. I walked down the steps of the house and climbed into the jeep. My breathing was rapid as the vehicle pulled out of the gates and I prayed with all my heart and soul that we would reach the airport safely.

  We arrived fifty minutes later and thankfully my worst fears of a car-jacking were not realized. But I couldn’t help constantly looking over my shoulder as the three of us walked briskly through the airport … and then something awful occurred to me.

  ‘I haven’t got my passport!’ I exclaimed.

  Damian grinned at me. ‘Do you think you’re with a couple of loonies?’ he joked.

  I stared at him. I wasn’t sure how to answer that.

  ‘It’s all arranged,’ Saima said. ‘We have a copy of it.’

  ‘You do?’ I was dumbfounded. ‘Will they accept that?’

  ‘Relax,’ Saima assured. ‘We’ll get you home.’

  I took a deep breath and felt like I could finally just trust Saima and Damian.

  Then suddenly, like a predator emerging from nowhere, Asif stepped out from behind a pillar and stood barring my way. I froze in my tracks as my heart began to thud in my chest. This was like one of Sehar’s Bollywood movies. In the space of a split-second I knew my instincts had been right; men like Sher Shah and Asif wielded too much power in this country. You couldn’t just escape them. It wasn’t possible.

  ‘Going somewhere?’ Asif said coolly as he towered in front of me.

  I just gaped at him. Saima and Damian moved swiftly to my side.

  ‘Who is he?’ Saima asked in a small whisper.

  ‘My fiancé.’

  I heard her sharp intake of breath.

  ‘Well, he’s keen on you, ain’t he, love,’ Damian muttered.

  ‘He’s going to drag me back to the village,’ I said, my voice shaking.

  ‘No he won’t,’ Saima said firmly. ‘You’re British and he can’t kidnap you from this airport. Perhaps we should try and get security, Damian.’

  I wanted to believe her but the sight of the three men forming a triangle behind Asif persuaded me otherwise. There was no way I was going to be able to escape.

  ‘Can I help you, mate?’ Damian said casually, as though being ambushed like this was the most ordinary of events.

  ‘I am not your “mate”,’ Asif replied tersely in English, the fingers of one hand rolled into a fist, his knuckles white. ‘And furthermore you have my bride-to-be. I want to know why you’ve kidnapped her.’

  ‘I think you’ll find,’ Damian countered, ‘that she’s here of her own free will.’

  ‘Let her tell me that,’ Asif demanded. His hand was now resting on his hip, forcing back his army jacket to reveal the top half of a handgun tucked into his jeans.

  I stared at the lethal weapon. This was crazy, I thought. I was a simple girl from a small town in Yorkshire. How could this be happening to me? What was Asif going to do? Shoot Damian and Saima and then drag me back to the village? Sehar had been wrong about him. There was no honourable pride in Asif, just a need to impose his own will like his father.

  It seemed Damian had noticed it too. ‘Take it easy,’ he said.

  ‘No!’ Asif snapped. ‘You take it easy!’

  ‘There’s no need for all this,’ Damian said quietly.

  ‘Keep quiet!’ Asif ordered.

  ‘Look,’ Damian began, ‘what is it you want? You can’t seriously think you can shoot us here? We’re officers of the British High Commission. It doesn’t matter who your father is or your family connections, you won’t get away with it.’

  Asif was staring at Damian with disbelief. ‘You think I’m going to shoot you?’

  ‘Of course we think that!’ I burst out, finding my voice from a combination of fear and outrage. ‘What else would we think?’

  Asif’s eyes widened in further disbelief. Then, as if he were noticing the exposed gun for the first time, he pulled his jacket over it. Finally he said, ‘I just wanted to talk to you before you left. Why did you do this? Why run away?’

  ‘I want to go home,’ I whispered. ‘I don’t want to marry you. These people are helping me.’

  ‘And you’ve decided now?’ Asif demanded incredulously. ‘A day before the wedding? Why didn’t you say anything when I came to see you?’

  ‘Because I didn’t think you would listen.’

  ‘And this is your way of getting me to listen?’

  ‘I never agreed to this marriage,’ I mumbled, close to tears.

  ‘Our marriage has been arranged by our parents,’ Asif said tightly. ‘I am respecting their wishes. Why aren’t you?’

  ‘Because I don’t want to marry you,’ I cried, then added feebly: ‘I want an education first.’

  Asif looked baffled. ‘So what’s the problem? You can attend a ladies’ college in Karachi. I won’t stop you.’

  ‘In Karachi?’ I repeated. Salman Shah had been right. Asif had no intention of leaving Pakistan – no matter what Taya-ji said. Before I knew it, the truth was tumbling out of my mouth. ‘Your parents want you to come to England with me. They don’t want us to live here.’

  Now Asif seemed affronted. ‘I am an officer in my country’s army. I will not be leaving Pakistan.’

  ‘But Taya-ji and Mariam-chachi only want us to marry so that you will leave Pakistan for the UK,’ I argued. ‘They don’t want you here in the face of danger. That’s why my dad agreed to the marriage even though he knew I didn’t want it!’

  Asif stared at me. ‘How do you know this?’

  I explained what Nannyma had told me, but left out the conversation with Salman Shah. Asif listened silently, his scowl deepening with my every word. Finally when I finished, he simply said, ‘Go home, Zeba.’

  ‘What?’ I gasped.

  ‘Go home,’ Asif repeated.

  I stared up at him. Was he letting me go? Or was this a ploy to … what? I didn’t know.

  ‘Don’t look so shocked,’ Asif said. ‘You are free to go. I suggest you return to England as soon as possible, otherwise I don’t know what my father will do to you.’ With those words he walked away from me.

  ‘You OK?’ Saima asked.

  ‘He said I could go,’ I mumbled.

  ‘Yeah well, what are we waiting for?’ Damian said. ‘Let’s get out of here before the guy changes his mind.’

  The three of us hurried to the check-in counter. I was trembling. I could not believe Asif had just let me go like that. It was a miracle.

  ‘You know, I gotta say this,’ Damian said, as he handed me my boarding pass. They had been allowed to accompany me to the gate to make sure I boarded the flight safely. ‘You are one of the lucky ones.’

  ‘Oi!’ Saima warned him. ‘Don’t scare her.’

  ‘It’s OK,’ I whispered. ‘I know, you’re right. My friend wasn’t one of the lucky ones, and it’s thanks to her that I made it this far. I owe you all. Thank you for everything.’

  ‘You’re welcome,’ Saima smiled. ‘And say hi to Tara for me. Tell her I’ll meet her for coffee back home when my time is up here. Remember, someone will be there to meet you off the plane at Heathrow.’

  I nodded, unable to say anything as a lump formed in my throat. I wanted to throw my arms around these two strangers to express my gratitude for what they had done for me. But I didn’t. A big part of me was desperate to board the plane and have it take off into the air before Asif changed his mind, but, resisting the urge to run, I attempted to articulate my thanks again. Saima stopped me by placing an arm around me.


  ‘You don’t need to say anything. You are going to be just fine,’ she assured me. ‘Isn’t she, Damian?’

  Damian winked at me and when he took a step back I knew it was time to go.

  Smiling my goodbye, I turned and walked through the door, which led to the steps down to the tarmac. The bus ride to the plane took about two minutes and then I was climbing aboard the 747 direct to London.

  I couldn’t believe it. I was going home. The words were like a song in my heart.

  Chapter 29

  The plane was circling Heathrow, waiting for authorization to descend. It was evening, but there was still plenty of light and I could clearly see the tops of houses through the little oval window. It was my first sight of London, my capital city, which I had never visited, and although the view was dull, the joy in my heart threatened to explode. However, the surreal feeling of coming home only lasted until the plane’s wheels hit the tarmac. As the Boeing 747 slowly made its way to its stand, there was only one thought nagging in my mind: what would happen to me now?

  As soon as I left the plane, I was met by an airport official whose job it was to deliver me to the Foreign Office representative.

  ‘You look nervous,’ he said, looking down at me sympathetically. ‘Don’t be.’

  I managed a weak smile as I tried to erase the fear and fatigue from my face. Heathrow airport was huge and the journey down the endless corridors was taking its toll on me. My mind was screaming its one relentless question: how was I going to survive on my own?

  My answer came in the shape of a tall, statuesque Asian woman dressed in sneakers, jeans and a T-shirt. I knew it was Tara as soon as I saw her. Her big brown eyes lit up when she saw me, and immediately I felt better. Was she used to working with girls who looked like me – scared rabbits fleeing the foxes? Whatever the reason, she bounded up to me on her long legs and reached down to grab me in a hug.

  ‘Welcome home, Zeba,’ she said in a warm, husky voice.