Homegrown Hero

by Khurrum Rahman

‘Jay‚’ Ira turned to me. ‘Did he just say that? Seriously. Sometimes I tie my hijab a little too tightly‚ it affects my hearing.’

  ‘It’s not what he meant‚’ I said. ‘Leave it.’

  Ira predictably ignored my advice.

  ‘What’d they teach you at that University‚ Zafar? I thought you had a Master’s degree! What was it you said…? Maybe the view on Muslims will change?’

  ‘Oh piss off‚ Ira‚’ Zafar said. ‘Why you have to pick holes in everything I say? It’s exhausting.’

  ‘If you think that’s exhausting‚ you best get ready for bed‚ ’cos you’re about to get educated. We’re going through a lot worse than having acid thrown over us. Homes devastated. Families torn apart. Our women raped‚ our children murdered‚ on a mass fucking scale. Do you hear what I’m saying‚ Zafar? All at the hands of the West. It’s been happening for decades. Just because you saw something on the news. Just because it’s happening in your country‚ in your city‚ under your damn nose‚ you think‚ what? That these Kafirs will sympathise?’

  ‘We don’t use that word‚ Sister‚’ Tahir said.

  ‘What word? Kafir? No‚ Tahir‚ you don’t use that word. I’ve got no problems calling a spade a spade. Whether you like it or not‚ we’re at war. We can’t ignore that anymore. We need to stand up and make ourselves count.’

  The tea was cold. The biscuits still in their packaging. A cold silence enveloped us. I had heard plenty of these conversations before‚ listened as we debated at the community centre. But it had never been like this. Ira’s feisty‚ yeah‚ fucking feisty! But never had she spoken with such venom.

  Without words‚ Tahir‚ Zafar and I decided it was time to call it a night. We all stood up in unison and approached Naaim to bid him good night. He had barely said a word all evening. It was supposed to be about him‚ but it quickly became about something else.

  Naaim looked up at us‚ the Rubik’s Cube still in his hand and said‚ ‘Where’d they get that acid from?’

  51

  Heston, West London

  Daniel could not possibly present himself in his current state to his father‚ so before heading home he decided to clean himself up. He stepped off the bus a couple of stops early and headed to the McDonald’s just off Henlys roundabout. He walked in and ducked straight into the customer toilets.

  The blue parka that Daniel had worn turned out to be a small blessing on a day when he needed all the blessings he could get. It was made of a type of fabric that was easy to wipe clean. He pulled out a handful of tissues and wet them under the sink‚ and then set about cleaning the bloodstained jacket.

  Once satisfied‚ he put it back on and washed his hands in the sink. He looked at his sad reflection in the cracked mirror. There was dried snot matting the wispy hair above his lips‚ that he’d tried to pass off as a moustache‚ and a deep cut across his upper lip. He washed his face the best he could whilst his mind raced‚ trying to find a feasible excuse. But he was tired and all that he could think of was‚ I walked into a door. His father would never believe an excuse that lame. So once again the blue parka‚ which he’d once hated‚ came to his rescue. He zipped it all the way up so that the lower part of his face was hidden from view behind the collar. As long as he could make it to his bedroom without suspicion‚ then he had all night to think of an excuse.

  Daniel walked the mile home as slowly as possible‚ turning the ten-minute walk to twenty. He hadn’t even had a chance to speak with Naaim‚ to warn him that Simon and Anthony‚ with the might of The Second Defence behind them‚ were coming after him. As soon as Naaim had set eyes on him‚ in his home‚ there was only one way that it would play out.

  As Daniel approached the front door‚ he made sure the parka was in place‚ zipped high‚ hiding his face. His father would not question the odd appearance; he understood teenagers and wouldn’t make a thing of it. Daniel slipped out the house key but before he could insert it the door opened and his dad was there.

  ‘Danny‚’ he said. ‘I was just heading out.’

  It should have been perfect. Daniel would have the whole house to himself for the night and not have to worry about hiding his face or explaining himself. Instead‚ upon seeing his dad he burst out into tears.

  ‘Hey‚ hey‚ hey‚ Danny Boy.’ His dad said‚ as he stepped through the door and took his son into his arms. ‘What’s got into you?’

  Daniel said something into his dad’s chest. It came out muffled. ‘What is it‚ son?’

  Daniel realised that the collar of his parka had slipped and that his split lip was exposed. But it was late‚ and it was dark‚ and his dad hadn’t notice.

  ‘It’s nothing‚ Dad.’ Daniel ran a hand across his face. ‘I just miss Mum.’

  ‘I do‚ too‚ son. I miss her every day.’

  It nearly set Daniel off again. It wasn’t often that he cried. Before tonight‚ the last time had been when his Mum had died – and then he’d cried for a month. They both did. He forced a smile. His dad mirrored it‚ and for just that moment his problems disappeared.

  ‘Where you going‚ Dad?’

  ‘I’m going to see Amber‚’ his dad said. Daniel had met Amber twice. She wasn’t very bright‚ but he liked her.

  ‘You smell nice.’

  ‘I think I overdid it. I mixed some Paul Smith with some of your Joop.’

  ‘Maybe a bit.’ Daniel laughed.

  ‘A couple of your friends came by.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘I didn’t know when you’d be back but they said you were expecting them‚ so I let them wait. They seem like good kids.’

  ‘They’re here.’

  ‘In the living room‚ watching TV. Anthony and…’

  ‘Simon‚’ Daniel said‚ his eyes on the living window‚ light escaping from the narrow gap in the curtains. His friends waiting for him.

  ‘Look‚ Danny. I don’t have to go.’

  ‘No‚ Dad. Go. Have a good time.’

  ‘She’ll never replace your mother‚ you realise that‚ right?’

  ‘Who?’ Daniel said‚ his gaze still at the window‚ his mind elsewhere.

  ‘Amber.’

  ‘Yeah. I know that.’

  His dad nodded for a moment‚ kissed his son on the top of the head‚ smiled and walked away down the path to his car. As he opened the car door‚ he turned to Daniel.

  ‘Try to stay indoors today.’

  ‘Yeah‚ okay‚’ Daniel said. ‘Why?’

  ‘Better to be on the safe side. Have you not heard the news?’

  *

  Daniel stood at the door to the living room and peered in. Anthony‚ still wearing his green Farah sweater‚ was perched on the seat of the sofa. On the side table beside him was a glass of orange squash. Under it a coaster. His attention was focused on the TV. Daniel noticed that he had removed his shoes in accordance with the house rules.

  Simon was sitting in Dad’s armchair‚ he still had on his blue Timberland tracksuit. A glass of orange squash in his hand. He noticed Daniel at the door‚ looking out of place in his own home.

  ‘Your old man left?’ Simon asked.

  ‘Yeah. He’s gone.’

  ‘Daniel!’ Anthony turned in his seat. ‘We’ve been trying to get hold of you for ages. Where were ya?’

  Daniel patted down the pockets of his coat and jeans. ‘My phone!’ he said‚ wondering where he had left it‚ and then remembered with a start that he’d probably dropped it when he lay crying at Naaim’s feet. ‘I think I’ve lost it.’

  ‘Yeah?’ Simon said.

  ‘Yeah‚’ Daniel replied‚ glad for once at not having to lie.

  ‘Well‚ don’t just stand there. Come in‚’ Simon said.

  ‘Yeah‚ make yourself at home.’ Anthony grinned‚ before turning his attention back to the television.

  Daniel walked into the room and removed his parka‚ placed it on the arm of the sofa and sat down next to Anthony. He noticed that the news was on. He didn
’t pay much attention to it but he could hear little snippets of what was being said.

  ‘Daniel‚’ Simon called. ‘Look at me.’

  Shit! Daniel was so preoccupied at having to explain the cut above his lip to his dad‚ it completely slipped his mind that Simon and Anthony would want to know. He couldn’t exactly tell them that he’d gone pleading to Naaim’s house.

  Daniel turned and faced Simon.

  ‘What happened?’ Simon asked‚ as he pulled the lever on the side of the armchair and the footrest came up – a feature that Daniel’s dad enjoyed on a daily basis‚ but one which made Simon seem even more menacing.

  ‘Show me‚’ Anthony said‚ turning in his seat to get a better look. ‘Oh‚ shit! Who fucked up your face?’

  Daniel’s eyes landed on the television‚ as if it could provide a spark that would ignite the lie that he would have to tell.

  ‘I don’t know‚’ Daniel said. ‘Just a minute ago‚ walking home from McDonald’s. I cut through Shelley Crescent and‚ I don’t know‚ I just felt something connect with my face.’

  ‘Who was it?’ Anthony spat. ‘We’ll fuck him up!’

  ‘I just said‚ I don’t know‚’ Daniel said‚ confidently‚ warming to the lie. ‘I had my head down‚ couple of guys were walking towards me‚ and Blam!’ He carefully touched his upper lip and grimaced in pain. ‘It fucking hurt. I dropped down to my knees with my face in my hands. They just carried on past me.’

  ‘Fucking cowards‚’ Anthony said. ‘That’s a proper gash‚ mate. That ain’t no knuckle. I reckon that’s a ring or a lighter to cause that sort of damage.’

  Daniel nodded. He had obviously convinced Anthony. He looked over at Simon who was sipping slowly on the orange squash. Feet up in his dad’s chair. Eyes calculating. Daniel ran through the story in his head. The lie was simple‚ there were no holes in it.

  ‘You alright?’ Simon asked.

  ‘Yeah‚’ Daniel smiled. ‘Just a bit sore. Like Anthony said‚ fucking cowards. If you guys were there‚ we would’ve showed them.’

  We would’ve showed them! Fighting talk never sounded natural coming from Daniel. He might as well have accompanied it with a waving fist. He decided to keep his mouth closed before he said anything else dumb.

  Daniel turned away from Simon and towards the television. He could feel Simon’s gaze on the back of his head. His palms were sweaty but he resisted the urge to wipe them on his jeans. He focused on the news. The newsreader was reporting three separate acid attacks that had taken place a little earlier in South London. Victims all Asian. Muslims‚ Daniel thought. The two attackers on the moped‚ unidentifiable as they wore helmets. White‚ Daniel thought.

  ‘I know who it was‚’ Simon said‚ and Daniel wanted to run.

  ‘Who what was?’ Anthony asked.

  ‘I know who attacked Daniel.’

  ‘Go on‚ then. Who?’

  ‘Isn’t it obvious?’ Simon nodded at the television.

  Daniel nodded slowly. ‘It has to be related.’

  ‘What? You think it was some pissed off Pakis? On the back of what’s happened?’ Anthony exclaimed as he made the connection. Daniel’s simple but well-constructed lie began taking on a life of its own. ‘Wankers! Been fucking with us for years. They don’t like it when the boot’s on the other foot.’

  ‘Listen‚ lads‚’ Simon said. ‘This is what’s going to happen. Hounslow is gonna be teeming with brown tonight. So we stay put‚ bide our time.’

  ‘What about the Paki?’ Anthony said. ‘Thought we were gonna put the frighteners on him tonight?’

  ‘With all the best intentions‚ if we were to walk out there‚ just the three of us‚ we’d be outnumbered.’

  ‘You’re having a fucking laugh‚’ Anthony said. ‘Since when do we back away from trouble?’

  ‘Calm it‚ Anthony. I’ll never back away from a tear-up‚ but we need to pick our battles carefully. It’s too risky to move on Naaim tonight. There are probably cops everywhere. Remember what Terry said. We’ve got to be clever.’

  Daniel stayed silent. It wasn’t the first time that Simon and Anthony had had a disagreement‚ and it wasn’t the first time that Simon had had the last word. Daniel was just glad that he wouldn’t have to face Naaim tonight.

  ‘So‚ we just sit here?’ Anthony said.

  ‘Yeah‚’ Simon replied. ‘We just sit here.’

  Anthony sighed loudly. His irritation clear.

  ‘It’s happening‚ lads. The uprising. We are now part of something that’s bigger than us. What we’ve witnessed tonight is just the start.’ Simon smiled for the first time that evening and said‚ ‘London is a battlefield. And England‚ a war zone.’

  52

  Jay

  Idris phoned me. He was outside. I couldn’t be arsed to get myself out of bed and make the long trip downstairs. He still had a key from when he’d stayed with me‚ so‚ still half-asleep‚ I mumbled that he should let himself in. I heard the door open and close‚ and with some effort I shuffled myself upright so I was sitting against the headboard.

  ‘Coffee?’ he shouted‚ from downstairs.

  ‘Yeah‚’ I shouted back. ‘Black and Strong.’

  Idris shouted something back‚ a wisecrack about Mike Tyson I think.

  I checked the time. It was a couple of digits past eight‚ too early for humour‚ so I ignored him. He chuckled to himself‚ his laugh travelled from the kitchen and into the hallway. I placed my phone back on the side table‚ and my eyes landed on the phone that I had pocketed yesterday. The events of the night before came rushing back at me. The acid attack. Ira’s furious reaction. Naaim… Attacking that boy.

  I picked up the phone and ran my finger over a crack on the screen. I wondered if it had occurred during last night’s scuffle. I pressed the home button‚ and I was glad not to be confronted by a passcode. Instead I was looking at an image of the St George’s flag. I wasn’t about to jump to a half-arsed conclusion‚ even though the conclusion seemed to be jumping out at me.

  Now I knew that he’d been on that bus‚ first thing I did was check out his gallery‚ hoping to find the original video without the faces obscured. There were many photos of him with his parents‚ I guess. They went back years‚ so I skimmed through them. The early ones at a theme park and at the zoo‚ and as he went through the ages‚ beach holidays and his parents cheering him on at school football matches. Curiously the last photo was dated just over a year ago. After that‚ nothing. No more photos‚ and no incriminating video either.

  I scrolled through his apps‚ not quite sure what I was looking for. I had a little nose around on his Facebook. His name was Daniel Lewis. There wasn’t much activity. I moved on to his text messages‚ again there wasn’t much to see. Either he was deleting his messages‚ or he didn’t have many friends. Just a couple of regular interactions with Dad‚ Anthony and a Simon who seemed eager to get in touch with him.

  Apart from his name‚ and the lack of a social life‚ I didn’t learn a great deal about him.

  Idris appeared at my door

  ‘I come in peace.’ He smiled‚ our previous conversation obviously still on his mind.

  It annoyed me how fresh he looked. Ready to seize the day. ‘Morning‚’ I yawned at him.

  ‘Are we still best friends forever?’

  ‘Until I find a better option.’

  ‘Seriously‚ though‚ Jay.’ Idris locked eyes with me. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Go on.’ He wasn’t getting away with it that easily.

  ‘I had no right telling you who you can or can’t hang out with. It was a shitty thing to say. But you know… I was just looking out for you.’

  ‘Where’s my coffee?’ I said‚ accepting his apology.

  ‘Downstairs.’

  ‘Why didn’t you bring it up?’

  ‘I don’t really want to be drinking coffee in your bedroom. It’s weird.’

  ‘Since when did you become so cultured?’ I said‚ as
I made the strange sound that accompanies stretching.

  ‘I’ll see you downstairs.’ He made a face and disappeared.

  I picked up the phone. The right thing to do was return the phone to its owner‚ which was good because‚ if I’m honest‚ I also wanted to talk to Daniel. I wanted to hear the full story. His involvement in the attack which had led to Layla taking her own life‚ and then his turning up at Naaim’s. His crying. It didn’t fit. Something just did not seem to connect. I’d had only one very brief meeting with Daniel‚ and he didn’t seem the type to… Fuck‚ man! What do I know? I’ve seen vicious violence from those who I’d never considered capable of it.

  I scrolled through the contacts list on Daniel’s phone and dialled Home. It rang through to voicemail. I decided not to leave a message. He didn’t really have many other contacts‚ so I dialled Anthony‚ alphabetically his name appeared first and they seemed to be in touch quite often‚ judging by the text exchanges. Possibly a friend. He could at least point me in the right direction.

  ‘Hello‚’ I said.

  ‘Who’s this?’ Anthony‚ I assumed. An attitude that I did not care for. Accusing‚ as though I had stolen his mate’s phone.

  ‘Is this… Anthony?’

  ‘Yeah. The fuck is this? You got my boy’s phone?’

  ‘Yeah‚’ I said. ‘I have it.’

  ‘He wants it back.’

  ‘I know that. It’s why I called?’ I said‚ and then had the urge to explain myself. ‘I didn’t steal it‚ if that’s what you’re thinking. I found it.’

  ‘What time is it? Shit‚ it’s early!’ Anthony muttered to himself. ‘Give it a few hours and meet us in… You know Lampton Park?’

  ‘I do‚’ I said‚ trying to work out what he meant by us. Why would us need to attend to pick up one phone? Were they the same us that were also involved in the attack. If so‚ did I really want to be meeting them?

  ‘I was thinking that you could maybe tell Daniel that I have his phone‚ and to call me.’ Why was I so nervous chatting to this guy? I figured it was because I was still in bed‚ still in my Batman onesie. If I’d been wearing my Air Jordans‚ I’d give it back a bit.