Denise Mina - Still Midnight

It was impertinent, a reproach to those only Sadiqa had the right to reproach. She gave Morrow a steely stare and muttered something about the baby.

‘I’m sure it’s been a huge shock for all of you,’ said Bannerman, making it all right.

‘Yes.’ She looked at him. ‘Yes, it has.’

She glanced at her sleeping daughter and ushered them both out ahead of her into the corridor, pulling the door closed behind her. They stood outside the window, Sadiqa tugging them around by the elbows so that their backs were to the window and she could keep her eye on her daughter.

Bannerman looked around for a chair. ‘Couldn’t we go and sit down somewhere?’

‘No,’ she crossed her arms over her chest, ‘I’m not leaving. We’ll stay where I can see her. You can ask me questions here, can’t you?’ It was the accent from the emergency call: prim, proper, like a fifties movie siren.

‘Well,’ Bannerman looked back at Aleesha sleeping in the bed, ‘we’d really prefer to speak to you so that you can concentrate, maybe somewhere private. We could get the nurses-’

‘No.’ Sadiqa had her hand up to his face, as if she was ordering a child to sit down again. She saw the expressions on their faces and her knee buckled in dismay. ‘Please excuse me, my manners…’ She covered her mouth with a hand, drew a shuddering breath in, nodded as if she had decided something. ‘OK. OK.’ She dropped her hand, stood straight and looked at them. ‘Sorry. I’ll concentrate. Ask me anything.’

Bannerman looked at his notebook. ‘Just going over what you said last night… who were the men asking for?’

She nodded, as if affirming a decision she had already made. ‘Yes. They asked for Bob.’

Morrow was surprised. ‘You sure?’

‘Yes.’ It was hard for her to say that and she blinked as she did, nodding significantly. ‘ Bob.’

Morrow was impressed. Sadiqa seemed to understand the significance of what she was saying, knew there was an alternative to telling the truth and implicating her son, but she was doing the right thing anyway. She clasped her hands over her bulging stomach and nodded at them to ask her another.

‘OK.’ Morrow looked at Bannerman but he was pretending to look at the statement again. ‘Can you tell us the course of what happened?’

Sadiqa hesitated, still staring at her daughter. ‘What happened chronologically?’

‘Yes.’

Sadiqa took a breath and stepped back. ‘We were in the house, I was in the kitchen. I hear shouting and go out into the hall to see what it is. There are two men there, I didn’t… I wear reading glasses, I was reading in the kitchen, and I took my glasses off, didn’t have my other ones, when I went out to the hall I couldn’t see properly, just shapes by the door. One of them,’ she circled her wrist indignantly with her hand, ‘he grabbed me and dragged me back up the hall. ‘They were asking for Bob. Shouting. The shot went off…’ She looked up to where the wall would have been, reliving the shock. ‘Then Omar comes in, one of them shouts, “You’re Bob,” and to Mohammed, “You’re Bob.” ’ Sadiqa came out of her trance and her eyes focused on them. ‘Then he grabbed Aamir and left. The other one followed him out.’

‘What were you reading?’ asked Morrow. She seemed confused. ‘In the kitchen,’ said Morrow. ‘You said you were reading, what was it?’

‘Oh, a test: it was a poetry collection. The Rattle Bag.’

Morrow liked her honesty. ‘Who in the family is called Bob?’

Sadiqa averted her gaze. ‘No one: Billal, Omar and Aleesha.’

‘No, Sadiqa,’ said Morrow softly, ‘I didn’t say which of your children, I said who.’

Sadiqa nodded sadly at the floor, understanding that they knew already. ‘Don’t make…’ The conflict was unbearable. The fat on her cheeks began to tremble.

Morrow threw a hand out, cuffing her clumsily on the forearm, ‘’S OK.’

Sadiqa nodded at her arm and muttered, ‘Thank you.’

‘’S OK,’ she repeated and fell back a step, embarrassed in front of Bannerman at having bottled it and cut the moment off.

Sadiqa rubbed her nose and looked up. ‘But where is my Aamir?’

‘We don’t know.’ Bannerman took over.

‘Is he alive, do you think?’

‘We don’t know that either. We’re trying very hard to find him but we need your help,’ said Bannerman who didn’t seem to appreciate how much she had helped them already and how conflicted she was about it. Them and us. Typical cop. ‘Omar is sometimes called Bob, isn’t he?’

She bit her lip, couldn’t look at them. ‘I don’t, well, I call him Omar. That’s the name we chose…’

Morrow would have thought less of her if she had given her son up happily. ‘Sadiqa, how long have you been married?’

She had to think about it, moving her lips as she counted. Aamir wasn’t one for big anniversaries then. ‘Twenty-eight years.’

‘How old are you?’

‘Forty-eight.’ She didn’t have to think about that.

‘Aamir’s older than you?’

‘By twelve years. Met him when I was sixteen.’ She glanced in at Aleesha. ‘Her age.’

‘Was it arranged?’

‘God, no. I fell for him. My parents asked me to wait until after uni. We’re not all that traditional, to be honest.’

‘But Billal and Meeshra…’

‘Yeah, Billal asked for an arranged marriage. That was his idea. Wanted his wife to come and live with us and all that whole… thing. That set-up. Young people nowadays, they’re a bit disenchanted. Harking back to a past that isn’t even really ours, you know? They think our generation are a bit slack.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘Bit multicultural.’

‘How’s it working out with Meeshra?’

She cleared her throat, and focused on Aleesha. ‘Good and bad. Meesh is nice enough but she’s a stranger coming into a close family. Can be tricky. Still, the baby’s in the house so we can see him all the time. And their room’s far enough away from ours so we don’t even get woken.’ She smiled at her joke and Morrow smiled back.

‘What did you do at uni?’

‘English Literature. But I never did anything with it. Wanted to marry Aamir.’ She sucked her cheeks in, a micro expression that Morrow couldn’t read. Frustration maybe. Not a good thing anyway.

‘A strong-willed girl,’ said Morrow.

‘Very. You don’t understand until you’re a parent yourself. Try to be firm but, you know… Because my parents didn’t think he was good enough for me that made him especially beguiling.’ She looked in at Aleesha again. ‘Stubborn girls. Family trait.’

‘She a bit of a handful too?’

‘Aleesha?’ Sadiqa looked adoringly in the window at her sleeping daughter. ‘Thinks she knows everything.’

‘Boy trouble?’

‘Oh, no, I don’t think so…’ she looked bewildered and a little hurt. ‘Her major problem seems to be that I’m an idiot.’

‘Aleesha doesn’t wear traditional dress?’

‘No.’ Sadiqa smiled to herself, a little proud. ‘No, she’s… No, she won’t. She’s an atheist.’

‘What does her dad think about that?’

‘Horrified. In front of her. Thrilled when she’s out of the room.’

‘He’s not a disciplinarian then?’

‘Aamir?’ She half giggled at the suggestion, remembered he was in mortal danger and became tearful. ‘God, no, he’s… a nag, a worrier but not heavy handed. He’s…’ She looked for a moment as if she might cry but caught herself, raised a hand to cover her face, hiding for a moment. ‘Sorry.’

Morrow reached out a hand to her arm but didn’t touch her. ‘No, don’t, it’s awful…’

Tired of being excluded by the women, Bannerman blurted, ‘Why wasn’t Aamir good enough for you?’