Jacqui Rose - DISHONOUR

In the corridor, she leant on the wall, breathing deeply, and welcoming the feel of the cool of the concrete seep through her shirt onto her skin.

‘Tash!’

She turned her head and saw Freddie being walked down the corridor the other way, being taken back to the prison van. He shouted to her as he was led away. ‘Tash, I’ll sort it. I’ll get whoever did this … I promise. Tash, don’t ignore me. For fuck’s sake, I didn’t want this to happen did I? Tasha? … Tasha? … I’ll call you, okay?’

Tasha Thompson didn’t bother looking at her husband. It was the first time she’d ever turned her back on him, and both of them knew it. As she walked into the July sunshine she looked up, enviously watching a single plane cut through the crystal-blue sky. She’d no idea where it was going but that didn’t matter; if she was given half the chance she’d be on it, because it was going somewhere. Somewhere other than here and somewhere would’ve been good enough for her.

Getting out her phone she sighed, knowing today was a turning point. Today, Tash’s life had changed forever.

‘Hello, it’s me.’

‘Hey, is everything all right?’

The voice on the other end was warm and kind, making the guilt Tasha had disappear. Despite what she’d thought earlier, she needed him now more than ever. His voice always had that effect on her. It always made her ask herself how could something this good be wrong?

‘No, not really it’s …’

Tasha trailed off, unable to explain and not wanting to break down into tears.

‘Listen, don’t try to tell me now. Shall I come and pick you up? Are you still at the hospital? We could have a coffee or something.’

Tasha paused then quickly said, ‘Yes, okay, I’d like that. I’m at the entrance but I can’t go far in case he wakes up. I want to be here when he comes round.’

‘I’ll jump in the car now. I’ll only be ten minutes. And sweetheart, try not to worry.’

As Tasha put the phone down, Arnold smiled to himself as he got his car keys out. He liked her. She was perfect. Just perfect.

Laila could see the grounds of Bradford Royal Infirmary as she looked out of the plane window. Everything seemed so small and unreal from the air, like a picture postcard from the sky. A leisurely summer’s day in Bradford, everyone getting along with their lives without a care.

She was invisible to all of them. High up in the sky, no one knowing where she was going. No one caring. But Laila cared, and she was terrified. There were so many questions she wanted to ask but there was no one to answer them. So the questions just went round and round in her head, terrifying her more with each recurrence of thought.

How long was she going for? When would she come back? Would she come back? That was the worst question of all and part of Laila was pleased her brother – who was sitting next to her, flicking through a motorcycle magazine – wouldn’t answer.

Islamabad. She hadn’t even been to Spain, let alone a country thousands of miles away. She didn’t know anything much about the country, not really about it. Not the things you really needed to know. Of course she knew about the history, the culture, the food and where it was in relation to Afghanistan; she’d learnt it all in school. She even knew enough about the conflicts and the different religious divisions to get an A-star in her history homework. She knew all that. What she didn’t know was about the real things. The things that mattered to everyday life.

How could she possibly go somewhere when she didn’t even know where to take a bus, where to buy chocolate or some underwear, or even where the Ladies toilets were? It was those things that mattered and it was those things she didn’t know.

Yet the biggest thing, the thing which scared her the most besides marrying a stranger, was how to live in a country when she didn’t speak the language. Yes, she knew and understood the odd word of Urdu but not enough to live there. But that was the point wasn’t it? She didn’t want to live there and until yesterday she hadn’t planned on even going. She didn’t want to go, yet here she was sitting on a plane, unable to get off, unable to do anything apart from what her family told her to do.

With the thoughts came the tears and Laila sniffed loudly. A moment later, Mahmood’s harsh voice was heard. Not for the first time that day, Laila Khan wished above all things her beloved father was still alive.

‘I can tell you this now Laila; I’m not sitting here the whole way to Pakistan with you sniffing away.’

Tariq looked at his sister. The guilt he felt was indescribable and the last thing he felt he could cope with was a whole journey of his sister’s tears whilst his uncle chastised her. Even though he’d been told both by his uncle and his mother it was part of his duty as her brother to take Laila to Pakistan and see her married off, truthfully, he could do without the whole trip.

Still, perhaps it’d be worth it in the end. Once she was married their uncle could stop being so angry with Laila. Tariq hated seeing him being so cruel to her. And as long as she didn’t mess up, maybe Laila’s torment would soon be over.

Exhausted, Tariq leaned back in his seat moving his head slightly to get a more comfortable position on the hard headrest. His uncle had refused to pay for first class and so for the next few hours he was going to be stuck squashed between his sister who didn’t sound like she was going to stop crying and his uncle, who’d somehow managed to get through customs with a container of homemade stuffed paratha and was already tucking into it, stinking the stale air.

Tariq closed his eyes and thought about the events of last night. He shuddered. Partly from what had happened to Ray-Ray and partly through his own fear and shame of being involved with it all. He supposed lying low in Pakistan until everything had died down wasn’t a bad idea. He didn’t think anyone had seen them but Pakistan was a good place to hide. It had different rules. His uncle had told him over and over again how the country acknowledged the importance of men being men. Only a few months ago they’d had the conversation.

‘How can men and women be equal Tariq? It’s like saying a zebra is the same as a lion.’

‘What about education uncle, don’t you think women have a right to that? Maybe it’d be worth Laila finishing off her education. I know my father would’ve wanted that?’

His uncle had stared at him and shook his head as he stood in the kitchen at home, a look of disappointment and scorn on his face. ‘ Your father did a lot of damage. He made the mistake of letting you think we can choose our paths, when in fact our paths are chosen for us. Why fill Laila’s head with things which will only lead to disobedience? We will guide her and then, when the time comes, her husband will guide her. That’s the way it should be.’

Tariq broke his thoughts, uncomfortable, as he moved his head again hoping for some slight relief on the headrest. He sighed. How could he think his uncle was right, because that would mean his father had been wrong? He didn’t like to think like that. In fact, Tariq didn’t like to think of his father at all; it was easier. For one thing, it meant he didn’t have to question his uncle or for that matter, himself. But mainly he didn’t like to think of his father because he missed him. Missed the life which used to be.

Laila watched her brother, who was asleep. Gently, she placed a blanket over him. It was getting dark outside and it was also getting cold. The air stewardess smiled at Laila but wasn’t able to see the small smile in return. Her uncle hadn’t allowed her to take off the burka and she didn’t suppose she’d be able to until they arrived at wherever they were going.