by Kia Abdullah
Lanced with guilt last night, he had confessed to her his treatment of Jodie and said that his courage had failed. ‘But we didn’t do what she said,’ he’d added, desperate to keep her esteem. Bushra had hugged him tightly. ‘I know you didn’t. The son I raised wouldn’t act like that.’ She kissed his hair and released him. ‘I don’t know how far this will go and right now it’s important that we face it together. I know that you’re a good person. When this is over, however, I would like to discuss how you treated that girl.’
‘I know,’ Mo said quietly. His mother, who loved him fiercely like a child deserved, expected the conduct of an adult. He had failed her, but when this mess with Jodie was over, he would vow to be a better person. A single moment of weakness would not define his entire life. The mistake would be righted and they’d all move on – and surely that would be soon. After all, it was four against one.
Zara grappled for her phone and cursed when she saw the time. Sure enough, there were several missed calls: two from Stuart at Artemis House and another one from Erin. She texted Stuart an apology and then stumbled to the bathroom. Her throat was parched and her tongue held the whispery texture of cotton. She slipped two fingers under the cold tap and ran them over her eyes, wiping away the sleep. The cool water of the shower calmed her pounding head.
Her mind snaked to Luka and clasped his words like a bitter nut at its centre. Even he couldn’t stand you by the end. She heard the sound of her palm on his flesh and saw the rising colour in his cheek. She closed her eyes and willed him away, refusing to accept her guilt.
Drying off, she returned to the bedroom and rifled through her closet for a pair of jeans, a T-shirt and a blazer. She pulled on her ballet flats, grabbed her bag and headed out the door to her car. Her phone began to ring just as she drove off. She answered it clumsily and switched to speakerphone.
‘I tried to call you.’ Erin was impatient. ‘Listen, I spoke to Farid, the spectator. I caught him after football practice. Here’s the thing: I’m not sure your girl is being a hundred per cent honest.’
Zara felt the car swerve beneath her. ‘You what?’
‘I don’t think she’s telling the whole truth. I believe the boy.’
‘Why? What did he say?’
Erin recounted the meeting. ‘Either he’s telling the truth or he’s a complete sociopath,’ she said matter of factly.
Zara tutted. ‘Come on, Erin. You’re better than this.’ She knew the barb would annoy her and this was partly intended. How could she decide that Jodie was lying without hearing her account first-hand?
Erin sidestepped the bait. ‘All I’m saying, Zara, is tread carefully. This girl may not be as innocent as she looks. People rarely are.’
Zara frowned. Could Jodie’s pitiful gait and disfigured face be hiding a secret cunning? She didn’t believe it for a second, but placated Erin nonetheless. ‘I’ll tread carefully.’ She said goodbye and focused her grinding mind on the road.
Half an hour later, she was at her desk. Stuart sat opposite, speaking in a measured tone that only occasionally exposed his dwindling patience.
‘What are you not telling me?’ he asked.
Zara shook her head. ‘I overslept. Really, that’s all.’
‘Yes, and the first time it happened, I believed you. We’ve been through this, Zara. You’re one of the best lawyers I’ve ever met and you’re sure as hell the best advisor we’ve had in this place, but this isn’t a shift at Tesco. You’re not stacking shelves. If you don’t turn up to work, the women we look after don’t get the level of care they’re owed.’
Zara bit down her shame. ‘I’m sorry. I am. It won’t happen again.’
He leaned forward, his voice softening a notch. ‘That’s what you said last time.’ He ran a restless hand through his hair. ‘Seriously, what’s going on?’
‘I overslept, that’s all.’
Stuart’s lips came together in a tight, thin line, holding back words he might later regret. ‘Okay, fine.’ He pressed a Post-it note onto her desk. ‘The detective on Jodie Wolfe’s case called. You might want to call her back.’ With that, he stood and left.
Zara tried to shrug off the guilt but it clung heavily to her shoulders. Were it anyone else, she would wave away the criticism but Stuart was one of the few truly selfless people in her life. He wasn’t concerned with feeding his ego or chasing profits; he simply wanted to help their clients. The knowledge of that made her cheeks burn hot. She threaded her fingers through her hair and grabbed angry fistfuls. What was she doing? Her mind posed then denied a series of accusations: No, I’m not bad at my job. No, I shouldn’t just quit. No, I don’t have to stop using – it’s just harmless release.
Listlessly, she picked up the note. Four words were written in Stuart’s expansive scrawl: ‘I have news. Mia.’ Zara’s heart rate quickened and she picked up the phone and dialled.
Mia answered promptly. ‘I take it you received my message?’
‘Yes. Sorry, I’ve had a crazy morning.’
A short laugh. ‘Yes, unfortunately I’m all too familiar with those.’ Mia waited a beat. ‘So, Jodie’s clothes are positive for semen. We’re trying to expedite the DNA tests.’
Zara felt a flush of relief. ‘That’s great news.’
‘I haven’t spoken to Jodie yet. I thought you might like to tell her.’
Zara was oddly touched by the gesture. ‘Thank you. Do you know when we’ll get the results?’
‘Right now, I’m told three weeks.’
‘Christ.’ Zara flicked through her diary and marked out a date. ‘Have you found anything you can use on the boys’ electronics?’
‘No, nothing yet,’ Mia sighed. ‘They use these so-called “ephemeral apps” and everything gets deleted after twenty-four hours.’
Zara tapped a pen against the page. ‘Listen, check if the boys are on Jabdam. It’s a Korean app that allows users to post anonymous rumours about each other, tagged by location. It came up in a past case of mine. The app’s not governed by GDPR and we can access all the data that’s ever been posted on their platform – even if it was set to expire.’
Mia brightened. ‘What would we be looking for?’
‘Anything that’s tagged Bow or East London and that mentions Amir or Jodie – or any of them. Maybe one of the boys couldn’t help bragging, or a friend of a friend knows something.’
‘Good call.’ Mia scrawled down the details. ‘I’ll let you know if we find anything.’
‘Okay,’ Zara paused. ‘Hey Mia, one more thing. When you canvas the neighbours, greet them with Assalamu Alaikum if they’re Muslim. They’ll likely be tight-lipped and this might help disarm them.’
‘Thanks,’ said Mia. ‘I’ll keep you updated.’
Zara hung up and glanced at the clock. Stuart had reassigned her appointments and her day was unusually empty. She flicked through Jodie’s case file, reading and re-reading random passages. Eventually, after an hour of inertia, she decided to take a break. She walked to Port & Port on the western end of Whitechapel Road. She liked the bar for its unique position between East London and the city, and for the blackboard outside that said in bright yellow chalk, ‘I’d eat here,’ a quote which was then attributed to, ‘The owner’. Inside, an ensemble of high beams, sturdy wooden furniture and dusty artefacts gave it a comfortable old-barn feel.
She ordered a drink and settled in a booth in the corner. She shrugged off her blazer and placed some files across the table: her excuse for drinking alone. She checked her phone and noted acidly that Luka hadn’t tried calling. She picked up a file and scanned it blindly. She was bored. She was always fucking bored. She glanced at her watch, not even sure what she was waiting for. She put down the file and picked up another. As she did so, she heard a purposeful cough at the next table. Her eyes – trained to ignore such puerile plays for attention – remained fixed on the sheet of paper. After a beat, she sensed movement towards her.
He was dressed in a dark suit, crisp white shirt
and slim black tie. As he sat down opposite, she noticed the muscles of his arm flex beneath the suit. He wasn’t her type – far too built for that – but he had her attention.
‘You probably haven’t drunk enough for this. I certainly haven’t drunk enough for this but,’ he paused, ‘you’re stunning. And I knew that if I left this bar without talking to you, I’d regret it. So tell me to get lost and I’ll get on my way. I just have to know that I tried.’ He barely waited for her to respond. ‘But, if you want – and it’s what I really want – I can buy us another drink and we can sit and talk about whatever you want: the perversions of the Marquis de Sade or the plight of the Congolese, who should have won Bake Off or the latest shade of lipstick – anything.’ His eyes searched hers and grew confident as he gleaned the reaction he intended.
A smile curled at the corner of her lips. She knew exactly what type of man he was: the type that recycled pet names from each of his flings and used women as landmarks (‘you know the place, the one with that sexy blonde waitress with an arse like an onion’), but it mattered less than it should.
‘I’m going to take that as a yes,’ he said with a smile. He strode to the bar, his frame tall and powerful – almost twice her size.
As she watched him, she felt her conscience tug. She was angry at Luka but could she really sit here with a stranger and pretend he didn’t exist? She sat stock-still for a moment and then, making a decision, gathered up her files and strode to the bar. She stopped the stranger mid-order.
‘Listen, I’m sorry but I have to go.’
His head tilted back in askance. ‘No, come on!’
‘I can’t. I’m sorry.’
He clasped his hands in mock agony. ‘Okay, but please, please leave me your number.’
‘I don’t give out my number.’
‘Okay, then give me your phone and let me put in mine.’
She shook her head with a smile. She knew not to do that after a friend of a friend used her phone to call his own hence securing her number, and then doggedly pursuing her for a good six months.
The stranger reached over the counter and picked up a ballpoint pen. From his pocket, he retrieved a receipt and scribbled down his number. ‘Then please take this and please call me.’ He pressed the note into her hands. ‘I’ll be waiting.’
She accepted.
‘And at least tell me your name.’
‘It’s Zara.’ She glanced at the piece of paper. ‘And yours?’
He leaned forward and whispered it in her ear, his breath warm on her skin.
She closed her eyes momentarily. ‘Goodbye, Michael.’ She left the bar without turning back, knowing he was watching her go.
Nina Sahari was on her back. Her cut-off T-shirt revealed a smooth, taut belly and her silken hair fell around her head like a fan. She reached up and threw the ball against the ceiling, catching it again with ease. Her green eyes – a much-desired result of her Pathan roots – blinked off tiny bits of plaster that rained down around her. She chewed her gum and blew it into a bubble, then popped it with her tongue and licked the sticky substance off her lips.
‘What is up with you anyway?’ She glanced at Jodie in the corner. ‘You’ve been totally deranged lately. I know your mum’s been ill but FFS.’ When Jodie said nothing, Nina sat up in exasperation. ‘Come on. It’s not like she’s got cancer; she’s ill coz she likes to drink. Why should you have to stay home and suffer for it?’
Jodie grimaced. ‘She’s going through a rough patch.’ In truth, she was no worse than usual but Jodie needed a reason to hide.
Nina sighed ostentatiously. ‘Look, I don’t mean to be a bitch. It’s just that there’s nothing to do in this shitty place. I’m bored and I’ve missed you.’
Jodie stirred in surprise. She felt a sudden warmth for her friend, normally so poised and aloof.
‘Christ, don’t get all emosh on me.’ Nina rolled her eyes but then gestured to the bed. ‘Come on, tell me what’s up.’
Jodie walked over and sat gingerly. Nina, for all her bluff and bravado, showed a keen sense of awareness whenever things were wrong. At school, she wielded this power for both good and evil, lending succour to the girls she liked and cruelly skewering those she did not. In year eight, she would pick out the girl who’d started her first period, or the one wearing a bra for the very first time and use it to tease them without mercy. Now, eager to learn what was wrong with Jodie, she honeyed her voice so that it was soft and warm, and encouraged her to speak.
Jodie shifted on the bed, wanting to please her friend but sick at the thought of sharing her story.
Nina placed an arm around her. ‘Come on. Whatever it is, I’ll help you fix it.’
Doubt lanced through Jodie’s stomach, mixing with the dead weight of fear. She opened her mouth to speak, then quickly closed it again. She took two rapid breaths, then gathered her strength and said, ‘You remember Kuli’s party?’
Nina’s interest was piqued, her brows arching over jade green eyes. ‘Yeah. What about it?’
‘At the party, the last time I saw you, you were dancing with that boy from Redbridge.’ Jodie’s words were soft and stilted. ‘After a while I couldn’t find you so I went out to the canal. I felt stupid in your clothes and wanted to be alone. After a while, I heard footsteps.’ Jodie tensed, fearing Nina’s reaction. ‘It was Amir.’
Nina’s face flushed red. ‘Who was he with?’
‘No one.’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘Okaaay. And then?’
Jodie picked at a thread in her quilt. ‘He came up to me and started talking.’
Nina frowned but said nothing.
‘I told him that I couldn’t find you and he said he knew where you were; that you had gone to a private party.’
Nina stiffened. ‘That bastard. What rumours was he spreading about me?’
‘It—it wasn’t about you,’ stuttered Jodie. She searched her friend’s face for clues. Nina acted indifferent to Amir but she had once pondered to Jodie that since both she and Amir had green eyes, their children would certainly inherit them.
Jodie was tempted to backtrack, to bury her worry and tell Nina nothing. But wouldn’t it all be revealed regardless? And wouldn’t Nina be angry that she hadn’t been honest? Jodie laced her hands in her lap and cautiously continued. ‘He told me he would take me to the party. Instead, he took me to this warehouse a few metres down the canal. I don’t know if you know it – the tall one with all the broken windows?’
Nina shrugged impatiently.
‘When we got inside, the others turned up.’
Nina threw her ball against the far wall. ‘They had a party without me? And you were there?’
‘Nina, please, that’s not what happened,’ said Jodie, needing her friend to listen. ‘Hassan, Mo and Farid came out of nowhere. They were all drunk and rowdy.’ There was a catch in her voice and she willed herself to be calm, for Nina couldn’t stand theatrics. ‘They started to tease Amir, egging him on, and he … he started touching me.’
Nina’s eyes grew impossibly wide. Then after a pause of breathless silence, she burst into peals of laughter. ‘Ha, good one!’ She pushed Jodie’s shoulder in jest. ‘You’re such a fucking psycho sometimes but you know what? I fucking love you.’ When she saw that Jodie was silent, her laughter grew shrill. Then, it came to an abrupt stop. ‘Jodie?’
Big glassy tears welled in Jodie’s eyes. ‘They took turns.’
Nina stiffened. ‘Doing what?’ Her voice was suddenly hard. ‘What did they do?’
Jodie pulled her hoodie tight around her body. ‘They raped me.’
Nina’s face grew pink. ‘Jo, tell me you’re kidding.’
Jodie shook her head, blinking quickly so that her tears would spread on lashes and not across her cheeks.
Nina shot up from the bed. ‘What the fuck?’
Jodie registered her anger and worried about what she might do. ‘Nina, please don’t confront them. The police are going to—’
�
��You’ve gone to the police?’ Nina’s mouth goldfished open and closed. ‘Jesus Christ, Jodie. Everyone always said you were a freak but I’ve always defended you. What the fuck are you doing?’
Jodie flinched with surprise. ‘That’s not—’
‘Those boys didn’t touch you!’ Nina was suddenly furious. ‘Our whole school knows you’ve been mooning after Amir for years. I’ve seen the way you look at him, the way you sidle up to me when he’s in a three-mile radius just in case he should come up to me and notice that you exist!’
The last three words hit Jodie like blows: a strike to her head, then one to the neck and the last a punch in the stomach.
‘My God,’ spat Nina. ‘How did you come up with something so twisted?’
‘Nina.’ Jodie’s voice was pleading. ‘I’m not making it up.’
‘Look, no one’s going to believe you and you’ll make a fool of yourself, not to mention me who’s always defended you.’ She flung a hand at the door. ‘Does Massi know about this?’
Jodie bridled at Nina’s affectionate name for her mother. ‘Yes,’ she whispered.
‘And?’
Jodie felt her heart contract. ‘She reacted like you.’ She closed her eyes so that hot tears now spilled across her face. She felt her resolve bend beneath the pain almost until it was broken. Desperately, she willed her friend to believe her. She could accept that her mother in a stupor of drink couldn’t see right from wrong, but not that Nina – who had only ever seen Jodie do good – would accuse her now of being a liar.
Noting Jodie’s distress, Nina firmly gripped her shoulders. ‘Look, Jo, I’m not doing this to be a bitch but if your own mother and your own best friend are telling you something, you should listen to them. If you told me that those boys got you in that room and slagged you off or called you names or pushed you around, I would have gone and ripped their fucking heads off. But everyone knows you’ve been in love with Amir for, like, ever. No one’s going to believe you. Plus …’ Nina shrugged, ‘they’re good boys, they pray and they respect their families. No one would believe they’d do what you’re saying – even to a normal girl.’