She keeps the passports in her bedside drawer.
There they are. I grab them. All there except for Aisha’s. Did she take it with her?
Now I can see the plane tickets. Heathrow to New Delhi. Four tickets. Must be the trip to see our grandparents. Here’s mine. I quickly compare it to the ones for Mam, Dad and Baljit.
My hands are shaking.
I read them again. Check them again.
Mine’s one way.
Why?
I don’t want to answer. There’s only one reason.
I run out of the room, slam my bedroom door behind me and sit on the edge of my bed. I’d chew my fingernails if my hands weren’t shaking as much.
Then the front door slams shut.
Sonia Mitchell heard Parkash shout. ‘Mia! Mia!’
Footsteps on the stairs.
A heavy silence.
Whatever was happening, Sonia couldn’t hear.
More shouting from Parkash. ‘Davinder! Davinder! Come here!’
‘What is it?’
Footsteps running up the stairs.
Silence again.
Sonia breathed deeply, held her breath. What was happening in that house? Every possible scenario flew through her head and almost all of them ended badly.
Wait or act? Sit back or send someone in?
The silent seconds felt like hours. Sonia was in NASA control centre, that nail-biting period of radio silence waiting for the astronauts to re-enter the earth’s atmosphere.
Give it a few more seconds. How many?
Her ears were straining that hard she felt they would start to bleed.
Footsteps.
Sonia stiffened. Took another slow, huge lungful of air.
Running water; a pan or a kettle being filled?
Someone was downstairs.
‘Sit down, sweetheart.’ It was Parkash again. ‘What were you doing in our bedroom?’
Sonia exhaled, bowed her head. Thank God for that.
She had ‘ears again’.
‘You’re not in trouble,’ said Parkash. ‘But I see you’ve seen our surprise.’ Her voice was full of compassion, no anger.
‘What surprise?’ Mia shuffled on the seat. She’d left the passports on the bed.
‘That we’re letting you stay with your grandparents all summer. We can only go there for three weeks but we thought you might want to spend all the holidays with Papa-ji.’
Silence.
‘You always said you wanted to, didn’t you? Stay with grandad?’
‘Yes but…’
‘But what, darling?’ More soothing tones.
‘My ticket is only one way.’
‘And you thought… Well, I don’t know what you thought.’ Parkash started to laugh. ‘Come here, little one. You thought we were going to leave you? Is that it?’
Silence. Maybe a nod from Mia, thought Sonia.
‘Don’t get upset, little one. Of course we weren’t going to leave you.'
‘We would never do that, Mia.’ It was Bhandal. ‘You can only book tickets so far in advance. We couldn’t get you a return. Nearer the time we’ll get you one and send it.’
‘I thought you were going to leave me there because of Aisha.’
‘Aisha has shamed us.’ It was the mother, voice full of scorn. ‘She has run away and now I cannot look at anybody in the Gurdwara. She has betrayed us. But you... ’ her tone changed, quiet, melodic. ‘You have done nothing wrong. You’re a good girl. We just want you to be happy.’
Sonia Mitchell had heard enough.
‘Get the boss on the phone,’ she told her colleague. ‘She needs to know about this.’
I’m back upstairs now. I don’t know what to believe. I want to believe them. You don’t want to think your parents are going to leave you in a dusty village in the middle of nowhere where running water is a luxury, to marry a bloke old enough to be your dad, do you?
But I never thought they’d force Aisha to run away.
That guy was coming here to marry Aisha. Once he’d done that, his parents would come over and Aisha would be running the house surrounded by Freshies. And when I say ‘running’, I mean waiting on them hand and foot. Who could blame her for not wanting that life?
But it could be even worse for me. I might be left there. My ticket was one way, and I know Bethany’s grandma goes to Benidorm for six weeks in January and she must get a return ticket because she hasn’t got a computer. She can’t remember it’s called the Internet, never mind use it.
At least here Aisha could have had the TV or radio on in the background. Over there? You must be joking. I’m not talking Delhi or Mumbai or Goa. I’m talking a small village in the Punjab.
Drive down to the supermarket? We’ve done the Tudors at school. It would be like Henry VIII asking one of his courtiers to pop into Tesco for a couple of wild boar steaks for tonight’s banquet.
Grandad’s rich by their standards – he has a tractor, even if it’s old. Loads of them still use an ox and plough.
Car? You’re doing well if you have a moped.
The people all seem happy, but they don’t know any different. My mother yearns to go back because she never settled here, never integrated. But me? Aisha? We’re different. We know nothing other than this... England, and all the technology and convenience that go with it.
Honestly, if you went there, you’d feel like a time traveller. Going backwards obviously.
Would they really leave me there?
Chapter Fifty-Two
Sam wiped egg mayo from the side of her mouth and reached down into the foot well of the car for a tissue.
‘Wonder how Jim’s getting on at that other job in Newcastle? Kiddie murders. Never good.’
She wiped her fingers. ‘Our body can wait for his PM until tomorrow. Gives us a bit more time to concentrate on the Bhandal family.’
Ed, sitting behind the wheel, gulped from the plastic bottle of Fanta – no Pepsi in the shop - before answering. ‘We’ll need it.’
‘Yeah, but don’t you just love it when a plan comes together? ’ Sam said. ‘The whole bloody family captured on a digital photograph behind the blue tape. Even the uncle.’
‘Uh huh,’ Ed said.
‘I want to get Mia to a Place of Safety tonight,’ Sam went on. ‘I know they’ll not take her on a plane tonight, but I don’t want to give Carver or anyone else the opportunity to say there was no risk otherwise we’d have acted sooner.’
She dropped the tissue. ‘Then tomorrow I want to start on the application for a Forced Marriage Protection Order. Bev and Paul Adams can meet us after Bev’s bailed Elliott and Tracey. Amber’s never been arrested so she can just be allowed to go. If we need to get them back in, so be it.’
‘What do you want to do about the rest of Aisha’s family?’
Sam paused, thinking it through.
‘Baljit can be arrested tonight. He’s hidden the car. The UC will identify him. Lock Baljit up on suspicion of theft of a motor vehicle. Recover his shoes. Every pair. Leave the parents and the uncle to stew. See what tomorrow brings. There’ll be the PM, a press conference and no doubt a bit of grief from Jill Carver.’
Ed told Sam to make her calls while he drove.
‘Tell Bev we’ll rendezvous at Morrisons, the big one on Newcastle Road. Get some uniform back-up there. We’ll need transport for Baljit and Mia. And tell them in the LP to keep their ears open.’
Ed knocked on the Bhandals’ front door. Sam, Bev and Paul stood behind.
Baljit opened the door. ‘What the fuck do you lot want now?’
Ed stepped towards the door and took hold of Baljit’s arm just above the elbow. ‘You’re under arrest for theft of a motor vehicle... ’
‘What? Get off me.’
He tried to pull away but Ed yanked him on to the street. The marked Ford Focus moved from its position further up the street.
‘Stop pulling,’ Ed said. ‘You’re going nowhere.’
A uniform cop jumped out
of the front passenger seat, slapped the quick-cuffs on Baljit, and walked him to the car.
He was being driven away before Bhandal came to the door.
‘What is going on here?’ he demanded.
‘Is Mia home Mr. Bhandal?’ Sam said.
‘What have you done with Baljit?’
Parkash appeared at the doorway, followed by Mia.
A heated exchange in Punjabi took place between the couple.
‘Your son has been arrested for theft of a motor vehicle,’ Ed said, the voice of authority. ‘Sukhvinder’s vehicle.’
‘That’s ridiculous,’ Bhandal shouted.
‘And now,’ Sam said, stepping forward. ‘I’m taking Mia to a place of safety. I’m making an Emergency Protection Order.’
Bhandal’s hatred and rage were boiling over.
‘You’re not taking her anywhere,’ he shouted, spit flying from his lips.
He turned to his wife and spoke quickly. Her aggression echoed her husband’s.
Ed switched to Punjabi. ‘We have every right to arrest Baljit and to remove Mia.’ He leaned closely in towards them. ‘This is not rural India. The laws of the Elders hold no sway here. The only law is the law of the land, this land, England. I am coming inside with my colleagues to search your house. If you try and stop us you will be arrested for obstruction.’ He looked over his shoulder. ‘Let’s go.’
‘You come with me Mia.’ It was Sam.
‘What’s happening? Why do I have to come with you?’
‘I’ll explain in the car.’
‘Stay where you are,’ her father barked. ‘Don’t you dare move Mia.’ He stared defiantly at Ed.
‘I don’t intend having a tug-of-war with your daughter’s arms, but she is coming with us.’
Parkash had moved away from the doorway.
‘She stays here!’ Bhandal pushed Mia back into the hallway.
Ed stepped forward, shoved him out of the way, and put his arm around Mia’s shoulders.
‘Come on sweetheart.’ He ushered her towards the door, towards Sam.
Sam felt her phone vibrate against her leg, a text that would have to wait.
Later she would learn it was from Sonia in the LP.
Kitchen drawer slammed. Knife?
Sam took hold of Mia’s arm. ‘Come with us now.’
Ed watched them walk to the car then turned around ready to start the search. Bhandal, eyes full of hate, looked towards the kitchen at the same time as Ed.
Parkash was running towards them, a long piercing scream escaping from her lungs and a steel cook’s knife above her head.
Paul moved fast, grabbed Bhandal around the neck from behind and dragged him out of the house. Bhandal flayed his arms and kicked his legs as his heels scraped along the floor.
Parkash launched herself at Ed, who never took his eyes off the knife. He tried to side-step her like a rugby fly-half but the hallway was narrow and she was on him as he grabbed for her wrist, both of them falling to the floor. Ed rolled on top of her and punched her hard on the temple as her eyes fired wild fury.
He heard the breath rush out of her and watched those burning eyes cloud into unconsciousness as he slowly struggled to his feet. He felt no pain, even as he saw the blood stain spreading like a rip tide from the collar of his shirt. When his knees buckled and the shadows closed to blackout darkness, Ed let himself drift to an ocean deep and starless.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Outside, Bhandal was laid on the pavement on his stomach, arms cuffed behind his back. Neighbours were starting to come out of the houses. Youths began to gather, menace on their faces, ready for confrontation.
Sam had run from the car when she saw Paul grappling with Bhandal.
She saw Ed where he had fallen and her stomach lurched as she rushed to his side, dropping to her knees and ignoring the blood pooling around her. Parkash was still motionless a few feet away.
Sam saw the knife close by and rose to kick it away before kneeling beside Ed again, her voice high and tight as she repeated his name.
Sam grabbed the radio from her coat pocket.
‘Ambulance required. Officer stabbed. Repeat officer stabbed.’
She shouted for Paul, pulled off her coat, and pushed it hard against Ed’s neck, whispering ‘no, no, no’ in fear and disbelief.
‘Paul!’ Sam shouted again. ‘Get a towel...anything.... Ed’s been stabbed.’
Paul sprinted into the kitchen and had pulled open three drawers before he saw a tea-towel hanging over the back of a chair.
He grabbed it and ran back into the hall.
Sam snatched it off him.
‘Stay with me Ed,’ she said, as she pushed the tea-towel against his wound with one hand, throwing her blood sodden coat to one side with the other.
She cradled his head and applied more pressure to his neck.
‘Where’s the fucking ambulance?’ Sam barked. ‘Paul don’t just stand there. Go outside. Keep hold of the husband. And keep an eye on Bev and Mia. Make sure they’re alright.’
‘Stay with me Ed,’ Sam said again. She kept the pressure applied with her left hand and held the radio with the other.
‘DCI Parker…ETA ambulance?’
‘En route. ETA five minutes.’
‘Roger.’
She bent down and spoke softly into Ed’s ear, tears dripping onto his face.
‘Five minutes and we’ll have you out of here, Ed. Five Minutes. Don’t you dare leave me. Don’t you dare...’
Outside Bev watched the ever-increasing crowd. There were probably about 20 now, but social media would allow a call to arms to spread quickly.
‘I’m scared,’ Mia said.
‘Don’t worry,’ Bev told her. ‘Do you know those lads over there? Not the parents, the lads?
‘Most of them.’
Bev grabbed a pen and a piece of paper from the glove-box, handing them to Mia. ‘Write down their names for me.’
From the hallway, Sam glanced outside and spoke into her radio again.
‘Further assistance required: two prisoners need transportation, one already en route; angry crowd gathering, request Public Order Unit ASAP. Ian Robinson is up at Highmounde. Divert him.’
‘Stand-by…Public Order Unit en route. ETA two minutes. Serial comprising sergeant and six.’
‘Roger.’
A few feet away, Parkash had begun to come round, slowly pushing herself into a seated position against the wall.
‘Don’t you fucking move,’ Sam shouted.
Parkash, eyes locking on Ed and the blood turning sticky on Sam’s hands, stayed where she was. You didn’t need English to understand what Sam was ordering.
On the street, Bev got out of the car and took half a dozen photos of the mob on her iPhone. She bent down and spoke through the car door.
‘Stay there Mia. I’ll not be long.’
She walked over to the crowd. She could make out Bhandal, now on his feet, standing in the middle of the youths, the position of his arms, pinned behind his back, signalling he was still cuffed.
Bev shouted. ‘You need to clear this area. Move away or you will face the possibility of arrest.’
‘By you darling? I don’t think so.’ Young Mr. Gobshite clasped his teeth together and made a clacking sound.
Bev stared at him; twenty, thin, hair bouncing over his eyes, skinny jeans tight over feminine legs. All mouth and no action.
‘Not just me arsehole,’ Bev said. ‘You might want to take a peak over your shoulder, you little piece of shit.’
She flicked her head to the left. The agitator and his group followed with their eyes and saw seven officers piling out of a van.
‘Pity,’ skinny said. ‘I’d have liked sorting you.’
Bev smiled. ‘In your dreams.’
A forearm Popeye would have been proud of grabbed him and dragged him out of the crowd. The shaven headed, brick-outhouse-sized owner of the forearm glared. ‘You’re locked up. Section 5 Public Order. Thre
atening words and behaviour.’
Skinny’s bravado melted as the forearm squeezed tighter. If eyes could shit themselves Skinny’s suddenly had a bad case of diarrohea.
‘I suggest you all take a wander,’ Bev shouted.
The group parted when they saw the paramedics run from their ambulance as two more police vehicles driven by members of the Major Incident Team screeched to a halt.
Bhandal was put into the back of the first one.
‘In here,’ Sam called.
Ed’s body suddenly jerked upwards, a movement quick and contorted and uncontrolled.
Sam had seen enough trauma injuries to know what that meant.
So had the paramedics.
Heart attack.
Sam bolted to the front door, slammed it shut and watched Ed jump like some emergency-ward actor beneath the defibrillator.
Three times he bounced before the female paramedic said they needed to move him.
Sam sniffed back her tears. ‘I don’t know if it’s connected to his heart but he passed out a few days ago.’
‘We’ll get him checked out love, but right now we need to go.’
Sam quick-marched alongside the trolley squeezing Ed’s hand, oblivious to the gawping bystanders and their mobile phones.
Paul Adams pulled Parkash Bhandal to her feet. Unsteady, she wobbled like a boxer recovering from a knockout and glanced at the bloodied knife on the floor.
‘Don’t even think about it,’ Paul said.
She spat once in his face.
Paul had never hit a woman in his life but at that moment he seriously considered an exception.
‘May as well add assault to your ever growing list,’ he said instead, wiping his cheek before grabbing her wrist.
Ed was carried into the ambulance and Sam put one foot on the step.
‘You sure you should be going Sam?’ Bev had walked across the road. ‘There’s loads need sorting here.’
‘I’m going,’ Sam’s voice told Bev the decision was made and cast in stone. ‘Take Mia to my office. Tell Paul to oversee the arrests.’
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