Liz Mistry - Last Request

‘You all right in there?’ Nikki’s sister, Anika, called from the kitchen.

Nikki glowered at Haqib. ‘You’d better start spilling before your mum comes through.’

‘For God’s sake, Mum.’ Charlie, her face perfectly made up, eyeliner on point and her school skirt too damn short, flounced forward and flung herself onto the sofa beside Haqib, sliding her schoolbag round till it rested on her lap. ‘If you’d give me half a chance to explain. Haqib didn’t sell me it.’

Nikki glared at the lad, eyebrows raised. ‘You gave them to her? You gave your 14-year-old cousin E? That’s no better. In fact, that’s bloody worse.’

He ran the back of his hand across his nose and glanced at Charlie. ‘I didn’t. I wouldn’t – she …’ He glanced at Charlie and shrugged.

Charlie elbowed him in the ribs. ‘Tell her then – you might as well …’

Head bowed, looking like a 2-year-old in trouble for stealing the Easter eggs, he mumbled something.

‘What?’ Nikki’s voice was sharp. She’d thought Haqib knew better than to bring drugs of any sort near her family, near her home or even onto the damn estate. What the hell had he been thinking?

Clearing his throat, Haqib tried again. ‘She’ – he jerked his thumb towards Charlie – ‘confiscated it.’

‘You what ?’ Nikki looked at her eldest daughter who was all sulky indignation and ‘I told you so’.

‘What? So, you thought I’d buy Es? I’m not a loser, you know!’

Nikki grinned and scooped the bags up. Charlie wasn’t a loser. Definitely not. Nearing the sofa, she leaned over and kissed the top of her daughter’s top-knot head. ‘No, you’re not.’ She leaned over further and cuffed Haqib’s head. ‘You, on the other hand, will be, if you don’t stop with the damn drugs. Now I’ve got to bail you out, yet again. Not good enough, Haqib – not fucking good enough.’

She could just about put up with the weed that was rife on the estate – turn a blind eye and all that – but this ? Once this shit got a grip on the estate it’d spread like wildfire bringing with it crime and violence and despair. She’d seen it all before on other Bradford estates and she was buggered if she’d allow it on hers. But what was she to do about Haqib? She was tempted to turn the little scrote in – let him see what it would be like – but deep down she knew she couldn’t do that to her family or to this runt of a boy.

Haqib rubbed his head. ‘I don’t take them, Auntie. It’s just …’ He sighed.

Charlie broke in. ‘What he’s trying to say is that Deano’s back.’

A talon curled its way round Nikki’s heart and squeezed, hard and sudden. If Deano was back, then that meant his drug lord boss Franco was too … and he was an evil sod. ‘I’ll deal with this.’ She hung the bag back over her wrist and chucked the remote control at Haqib, making sure it whacked his head. ‘Don’t be late for school, you two.’

When she re-entered the kitchen, Anika handed her a mug of steaming coffee. ‘Weed? Again?’

Nikki sighed. Anika took a pragmatic approach to her son’s weed consumption. Personally, Nikki would rather he didn’t smoke the stuff, but then she knew how many alternatives there were out there, so she let it pass. She could tell her sister the truth, but what purpose would that serve? Anika would wail and moan and threaten to ground him and Haqib would do what he always did and ignore her.

She’d deal with it and they’d move on with her keeping a closer eye on the little turd. ‘Yeah, summat like that.’ She shrugged. ‘Deano’s back … and Franco. Don’t worry, I’ll sort it though.’

Anika nodded and went back to the fry-up she was cooking. ‘He’s trouble, that lad, but I’ve heard Franco’s worse. Sort it before it gets out of hand – like last time.’

Nikki munched the remains of the toast she’d started on her way in. She enjoyed spending time in her sister’s kitchen. It was homely. Filled with clutter and love. Kids’ schoolbags by the back door, shoes kicked off in a huddle next to them, well-tended plants on the windowsill, a series of sentimental ‘There’s No Place Like Home’ plaques and cutesy pictures of cats. Her own kids were always telling her to get some plants and put some pictures on the walls. Truth was, Nikki was as green-fingered as weed killer and the only plant that had been able to flourish in her home was the cactus Charlie had given her three Christmases ago. As for the sentimental crap? Well, that was so not Nikki. She liked things streamlined – no clutter. That way she knew if her space had been infiltrated. That way she felt safe and in control. As she watched her sister, something niggled at her. Something was different. When she realised what it was, she smiled but her heart sank. Why did Anika have to be so needy? ‘You can’t have it both ways, Anki.’

Anika frowned. ‘What you on about?’

Taking a sip of coffee, Nikki pointed at her sister’s head. ‘You can’t wear the hijab on one hand and fry bloody bacon and sausages on the other, now can you?’

Anika’s face broke into a grin. She flung her head back, laughter bubbling out of her like warm fuzzies on a winter’s day. ‘Just as well I’m not wearing it on my hand then, innit?’

Covering her sigh with a smile, Nikki nursed her coffee, observing the warm flush across her sister’s cheeks. Anika was happy … for now. ‘Take it Yousaf’s back an all.’

‘Aw don’t be like that. I love him. Maybe he’ll stay this time.’

Nikki wanted to shake her. Make her wise up. ‘You know he’ll never leave his Pakistani family. ‘Specially now he’s a “councillor”.’ Nikki made air quotes round the last word and crossed her eyes for effect, pleased that her silly actions seemed to have taken the sting out of her words when Anika laughed.

‘He loves me and he loves Haqib.’

Nikki groaned and stuffed more toast into her mouth, chewed, swallowed and then spoke. ‘Come on! When’s the last time he bought Haqib owt – or you for that matter? Yousaf’s a loser. You keep taking him back every time he turns up for a booty call and he’ll get you up the duff again and leave you. The likes of us – working-class, dual heritage and Hindu to boot – are not good enough for well-off businessmen-cum-councillors and especially not for married ones. He won’t leave her.’

Anika’s eyes welled up and Nikki could have kicked herself. Maybe sometimes she should just learn to shut her big mouth. She jumped to her feet and moved round to put her arms round her sister, hugging her tight. ‘I’m sorry. I know I’m bitter and twisted, but I just don’t want you getting hurt again.’

‘Not everyone’s like you know who, Nikki.’

Nikki sighed. Anika was right. Just because she’d had a bad experience didn’t mean Anika would. But the truth was Yousaf just was not good enough for her sister. She only had to convince Anika of that fact. The sisters hugged until, smelling something beginning to burn, Nikki wheeled round, turned off the cooker and yelled through the house, ‘Breakfast’s ready.’

Haqib and Charlie appeared from the living room as Nikki knocked on the wall that adjoined her house and yelled. ‘You two, Auntie Anika’s got breakfast ready. Shift it.’

Faint yells of, ‘I’m starving’ and ‘Hope it’s a fry-up’ filtered through the walls and within seconds, Nikita’s younger two children, dressed in school uniforms, faces all rosy and clean, ran into the kitchen and plonked themselves down at the table, grabbing their cutlery and looking like they’d never been fed in their lives. As Nikki grabbed another slice of toast, she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. Pulling it out, she saw it was a text from her boss, DCI Archie Hegley. She circled the table to drop kisses on each of the kids’ heads in turn. ‘Work. Gotta run. Be good and, Charlie, change into trousers. Your skirt’s too damn short.’