I close my eyes, finally understanding what that diary entry was about.
‘That’s why he wanted to send you away?’ Alia asks.
Noor stares into her glass, as if begging the amber liquid to magic away the past. ‘He said it wasn’t safe for me in India, and he was right. But what we didn’t know was that the real threat wasn’t coming from some stranger; it was coming from within our family.
‘Faraz had been ringing and texting me non-stop that night. Abbu was still in the constituency but Faraz had come back home and realized I wasn’t there. I didn’t want him to see me with Vineet, so after Vineet dropped me off I snuck into the kitchen through the servants’ entrance.’
I nod. That house was guarded like a fortress, but no one ever bothered with the servants’ quarter. There was never any need and once Noor and I figured it out, that became our main route in and out of the house.
‘I was so wasted, I must have woken Salma up.’
‘Salma?’ Alia asks, confused.
‘The maid,’ I say. ‘The girl who Noor gave her old clothes and books to.’
‘She followed me inside,’ Noor continues. ‘I wanted to go to bed but she insisted on making me a snack. Faraz must have heard me come in, because the next thing I knew, he was there in the kitchen, shouting at me, telling me how I was an embarrassment to the family, how I had brought so much shame to the Qureshi name they’d all be better off if I was dead. I’d seen him high before, but not like that night. He was completely wasted. I kept trying to speak to him but anything I said only made him angrier. At one point, he lunged at me. He had his hands around my throat.’ Noor takes in a shaky breath, her hand going automatically to her neck, as if to reassure herself that she’s safe.
‘Salma,’ she says, her voice breaking. ‘Salma tried to intervene. She tried to pull him off but she was just a slip of a girl . . . I was terrified he was going to kill me, right there in our kitchen.’ Noor shuts her eyes and presses her fingertips to her forehead. ‘The next thing I knew, she hit him on the head with a rolling pin.
‘She had been making parathas for me,’ Noor adds, as if that detail is somehow significant, before shaking her head. ‘I don’t think she actually hurt him, but he just snapped. I thought he was angry before but . . . she was a servant and she’d hit him.’
Faraz had always been arrogant and I can imagine the indignation, the anger he would have felt.
‘I didn’t even know he had a gun until it was in my face,’ Noor says, finishing her whisky in one long swallow. ‘Salma struck him again a second before the gun went off. He was pointing it at me, but then she hit him . . . he was already unsteady on his feet. He swerved and . . . it went off . . . He shot her, right in the head.’
Even though I’d known it was coming, the gasp that escapes my mouth is genuine.
‘You see it in films, but it’s not the same. There was so much blood. It went everywhere,’ Noor says, setting her tumbler down.
‘Did he try to—’
‘He passed out. He didn’t even realize he shot the wrong girl.’
‘Did you call the police?’ Alia asks.
Noor pours out some more Scotch and then carefully replaces the stopper in the bottle. Her eyes are glistening when she looks up.
‘I called Abbu.’
SABAH
‘I didn’t find out until months later,’ Noor continues, ‘but while Abbu had been busy trying to manage the mess I’d made, Faraz had started mixing with the party workers again. They were always around the house and I suppose they’d been filling his ears, grooming him almost. Later, Faraz told Abbu that they’d convinced him he had to kill me for the sake of the community, the family, Islam. They gave him the gun. Told him they could do it themselves but, as my brother, it wasn’t just his responsibility, it was his honour to repair the family name that I had sullied.’
Her eyes well up with tears, and she blinks them away.
‘I don’t expect you to understand but I think for Abbu, it was the only way he could protect both his children. We had a dead body there that we had to deal with, Faraz was passed out on the floor clutching a gun, there were people threatening to kill me. It was just too much. Even if we found a way to cover up Salma’s death . . .’ Noor runs a hand over her face. ‘It didn’t seem like my going away would stop them. These people . . . they were after blood. Abbu said the only way I’d be safe was if everyone believed I was dead.
‘He called the police commissioner. They’d been at university together, Abbu had helped him get his post. And . . . and I got the sense that there was history there, maybe Abbu had something on him.’ Noor shrugs. ‘Either way, Abbu was sure he would help, and he did.’
Alia makes as if to speak but I stop her with a quick shake of my head. Now is not the time to tell Noor.
‘It must have taken no more than fifteen minutes for him to arrive . . . but those fifteen minutes . . . Once the commissioner got there, he told us exactly what to do. Salma was the same age as me, and lots of people thought we looked similar anyway.’
I try to picture the young girl who had often ferried snacks up to Noor’s room. The first time Alia visited Noor’s house, she had asked me about the girl. I still remember the surprise on Alia’s face when I’d told her that she was a maid, not a cousin.
‘He had me dress her in my clothes. I also – I also put one of my hijabs on her. With the scarf covering her hair and half her face . . . He was being cautious but there was really no need . . .’ Noor trails off.
I get it. Even without the backing of the head of the state’s police force, no one had any reason to doubt Javed Uncle. Why would any father lie about his own daughter’s death? And to ask him to return to the morgue for a formal identification when he was the one to report the death would just be callous. It was easier, kinder to close the matter then and there and let Javed Uncle get on with the trickier business of arranging a funeral for his sixteen-year-old daughter.
‘He cleaned up the gun and put it next to her. Abbu and I had already carried Faraz upstairs and—’
‘The note –’
Noor nods, as if to say she’s getting to it. ‘The commissioner dictated it to me. He wanted to make sure it was phrased just right, in case there was ever an investigation. He was the one who insisted that Abbu have the funeral the very next morning. The body had to be moved to a morgue overnight, and even though it was unlikely that anyone would question his authority, he didn’t want to take a chance.’
‘What about the post-mortem?’
‘They never did one.’
I draw a breath. Surely Javed Uncle’s power couldn’t stretch that far?
‘Legally, the police are only required to request an autopsy if they suspect foul play or if the cause of death is unclear,’ Alia says, slowly.
‘That’s why the note was so important,’ Noor says.
‘And Faraz . . . he never realized that he’d shot Salma instead of you?’ Alia asks.
Noor shakes her head.
Something occurs to me, a little piece of the puzzle that doesn’t quite fit. ‘But he must have wondered about the suicide note, right?’ I say.
Noor nods, as if she had been waiting for one of us to question this. ‘Maybe, but the only person who actually saw the note before it was handed to the police was Abbu. And, honestly, at the time I think Faraz was just grateful that he wasn’t going to prison. He probably assumed that Abbu forged the note to protect him.’
It’s incredible. Javed Uncle had orchestrated the perfect cover-up, getting rid of a dead body, saving his daughter’s life and protecting his son’s freedom in one move. There was only one loose end. ‘No one asked about Salma?’
‘I don’t think so, no. She was an orphan. Abbu took her in after she ran away from her village. People probably assumed she had run off with a boy or something, but even if they were worried about her, no servant would dare to bring it up with my father, right? Not when he was grieving the death of his own daughter.’
The sound of a key in the door startles us and we hush as footsteps echo through the cottage.
‘Hello,’ I hear a woman call out moments before she walks in, dog trailing behind her.
I look at Alia. She looks just as confused as I feel as I take in the blonde woman standing in front of me, dressed in a puffer jacket and skinny jeans. Why hadn’t Noor mentioned that she had a guest?
I watch as the dog leaps forward and runs to Noor.
The woman drops a set of keys on the counter and then leans in to give Noor a kiss.
‘Babe, these are my friends from back home, Alia and Sabah,’ Noor says to the woman, before turning to us, a nervous smile plastered on her face. ‘And this is my wife, Kate.’
ALIA
I pass the bowl of salad to Sabah. We are sitting in a cottage in Scotland having dinner with Noor and her wife. The whole thing feels so ridiculous that I want to burst out laughing.
‘I’m sorry this is all a bit slapdash,’ Kate says, setting down a platter of cold cuts on the table. ‘If Nida had remembered to tell me you were coming, I would’ve made sure we had a proper meal organized.’
Nida? Sabah and I exchange a glance. Of course she changed her name.
‘Please don’t worry about it,’ Sabah says, smiling as she helps herself to some cheese. ‘It was pretty last minute. Alia and I realized we were both going to be in Edinburgh at the same time and we just had to come and see Nida.’ She throws a sharp glance at Noor. ‘It’s been, what – fifteen years?’
Noor nods.
‘So you must have known each other when Nida was in Nepal?’
‘That’s right,’ I say, picking up my wine glass. ‘Though I’m not quite sure where you went from there. Remind me, Nida.’
‘Dubrovnik, then Tallin, Bucharest –’
‘Where she met me,’ Kate says, smiling. Her left hand rests on the back of Noor’s neck. I blink when I realize I’m staring. The cottage might seem cosy, but it’s clear that Noor’s been living like a fugitive.
Noor gives her a quick smile and then continues. ‘And then Scotland. Kate’s family is here so it made sense for us to move.’
‘Which reminds me,’ Kate says, ‘we were going to go to the loch for a small Hogmanay celebration. Nothing fancy but it should be fun. There are only about seventy people in the village, and everyone will be there.’ She turns to Noor, a slight frown creasing her forehead. ‘Except Bo. She’s having trouble with her hip again. I told her we’d pop in next week.’
Noor nods. ‘Of course.’
‘Anyway,’ Kate says, turning back to us, her easy smile back in place. ‘It’s all very low-key, some fireworks and drinks by the loch to bring in the New Year. Would you like to come?’
‘We’d love to,’ Sabah says.
The ride to the village takes us along a different route, deeper into the valley. The village itself is a cluster of houses around a lake, the water glimmering black and silver in the moonlight. We help Kate and Noor carry the flasks of mulled wine and whisky down to the shore. About fifty-odd people are gathered around a campfire and there is the faint strain of Gaelic music in the air. We linger on the fringes while Noor greets everyone. It’s odd, seeing her here, with a blonde wife and the hint of a Scottish accent, chatting, laughing, bending down to pet a dog, bouncing someone’s baby. All the drama, the constant need for attention, the restlessness that she used to carry with her, all of that is gone. She seems to have transformed into someone calmer, more grounded. I watch as she laughs at something a white-haired man is saying before reaching out to Kate and pulling her close, her action thoughtless. That’s when it hits me. She’s found it. She’s found where she belongs.
‘How much of it is true?’ I ask Noor as we walk around the lake.
‘All of it. After the body had been moved, the commissioner drove Faraz out to my grandparents’ and I hid in one of the unused servants’ quarters. The next day, Faraz came back home with my mum. Ten days after the funeral, Abbu and his commissioner friend drove across the border into Nepal. Between the two of them, they knew no one would stop to check the car at the usual checkpoints. And then a few miles before the border, I got into the boot of the car.’
‘It was easier once we were in Kathmandu. Abbu had already arranged a new passport. I flew to Dubai the next day and then on to Dubrovnik for a few days and then, finally, Tallin. I enrolled in a boarding school there. Abbu had always been very clear that I couldn’t stay in one place for too long, especially not a European capital, even if it was Tallin. He said it was too risky. So after I graduated, I went to the arts university in Bucharest. I met Kate and when she said she wanted to move back home, I came with her. I could be an artist from anywhere, but after I’d finally found someone who understood me, I didn’t want to be alone again. I had always known I’d have to spend my life in hiding, but it became easier with Kate by my side. And a Scottish village with a population of seventy seemed like the perfect place to disappear.’
‘But you never told Kate?’ I ask.
Noor shakes her head. ‘I can’t risk it,’ she says simply. ‘There’s too much at stake.
‘I never knew what I wanted in school,’ Noor continues. ‘The boys . . . I acted experienced, blasé almost, but the truth is, I never really had the impulse and for the longest time, I couldn’t figure it out. I didn’t understand why I didn’t have the same urges as the other girls, why I always wanted to stop halfway . . . I knew something was wrong but I couldn’t figure out what. Until we went to Oxford . . . You remember the student guide?’
‘Simon?’ Sabah asks.
‘No, Michelle.’
I have a sudden memory of the other student guide, the slightly plump, cheerful brunette. She had always been friendly and she was particularly kind to Noor, coming to fetch her every night when her parents called.
‘I used to hang out with her quite a lot. To begin with we’d just meet up to smoke or talk about art, but at some point I realized I was attracted to more than her sense of freedom. But it was hard to process, you know? I struggled enough just being myself, but to be a lesbian, especially back then . . .’
I nod. When I first moved to India, I thought the concept of honour killings was limited to far-off villages and that the stigma of homosexuality was only acute in the rural pockets of the country, driven entirely by poverty and a lack of education. But all it took was a few weeks of watching the news to realize how common such crimes were even in the most metropolitan cities, how much the educated, modern middle and upper classes cared about social standing and reputation. I still can’t think of a single openly gay person I’d known as a teenager – it just wasn’t an option, not in the least because until a few months ago, it wasn’t just taboo, it was illegal.
Noor turns to Sabah. ‘You knew, didn’t you?’
Sabah nods. ‘I had a feeling.’
‘That’s why you gave me that dare. It was a test.’
Sabah looks away. Her voice cracks. ‘And that’s why you picked Vineet?’
‘I was angry with you. I knew you suspected that I liked girls so the dare . . . it felt like an attack. I wanted to get back at you . . . but shooting that video was a stupid thing to do. I never intended for it to get out.’
My heart stills. I’d always thought that the rumours about Noor knowing she was being filmed were just rumours. Once again, I feel like the trespasser as Noor and Sabah talk about things I had only ever guessed at.
‘No,’ Sabah says, tears running down her cheeks. ‘That was all me. Sleeping with Mohit was the worst thing I’d done and when I found out that you’d told Alia about that . . . I’d trusted you with my darkest secret. And then when Vineet sent me the video . . . I thought someone had sent it to him and he was just passing it on. I didn’t even realize the boy in the video was Vineet until the next day. I was so angry, and so humiliated, I just wanted you to feel the same. I didn’t realize what it would lead to. I am so, so sorry, Noor.’
‘So am I.’
I watch quietly as they hug. I try to come up with the words to tell them what I had done, how I’d manipulated Vineet, how my obsession with ending Noor and Sabah’s friendship once and for all had kicked off the chain of events that led us here, to this day, but the words dry up in my mouth. I have regretted my actions for years and yet I am not brave enough to own up to them. I turn my attention to Sabah as she speaks.
‘You could have stayed. You could have fought,’ Sabah says. ‘There had to be another way –’ Sabah breaks off, her voice catching.
‘There wasn’t,’ Noor says softly, looking at the group assembled across the lake as we walk back to join them. ‘And I may have left because Abbu wanted me to, but I stayed away because that’s what I wanted. I was so ashamed of what I’d done. And after that night, it felt like there was nothing left for me to come back to. Half the country had seen that video, my own brother wanted to kill me, my parents and all my friends hated me . . . Running away was the easiest option. And once I found Kate, it didn’t feel like I was running anymore.’
We tip our heads back as the first rocket sizzles up, lighting the midnight sky with sparks of red and green.
I link my arms through Noor’s and Sabah’s as I realize that once again I am back there, watching the fireworks. But this time instead of tearing us apart, the fire in the sky is bringing us together.
ALIA
The drive back feels sober, each of us lost in our own thoughts. Kate attempts conversation a few times but in the end she gives up and we return to the cottage in silence. She heads upstairs without a word, leaving the three of us in the living room.
‘Nightcap?’ Noor asks.
It has been agreed, without anyone bringing it up, that Sabah and I are spending the night here and I am reminded of all our impromptu sleepovers at Noor’s house, curled up on the sofa or squashed together in her bed.
Can You See Me Now? Page 26