You're Not Proper (20 page)

I will never forgive myself for taking him out there and leaving him there. I should not have buried him. He should have buried me. Just the thought of him kills me inside.

I want him back in my arms. I want to smell his breath and his voice and be next to me when I wake up in the middle of the night.

Years have gone by but a part of me still can't stop searching for him. I only have little pieces of him under my bed. I am not angry with you for what you did. I'm angry at myself for not knowing how to let go.

God knows how I've wanted to, so I can be there for you, but I just don't know how.

Jake put his trembling hand on mine.

Just then, I got a text from Dad:
Just arrived.

A moment later I got a text from Laila:
Landed. Coming straight to you
.

Mum put a hand forward towards me. I clenched my fists as her fingertips touched me.

She said, ‘There was a terrible accident and the
goree
lost her baby. She sat by the baby's grave and cried and screamed day after day.' She paused, took a deep breath and continued, letting out a deep sigh, ‘And there was a woman in the village, Khatija, a poor woman who worked in the house of the Choudry's, the big landlord of the village. He had made her pregnant. She was about to give birth and her offspring would be killed. Murdered. Everyone knew that.' Mum paused.

‘Oh God, kill her now,' I thought, ‘right in front of my eyes, I don't want to hear the rest.'

I tried to get out of the chair but couldn't.

Mum continued, ‘The white woman was mad with grief. She wasn't going to live without her baby. On the night Khatija gave birth, all four of us were together, Liaqat and your Dad and me and her. And we stopped the murder.'

Mum stopped again. I didn't see her getting up. She was now sitting next to me. She had her arm around me, holding me tightly. ‘Khatija gave birth to twins. Two girls…'

‘I hate you,' I cried. ‘And don't tell me, me mother's your goat herder.' Wiping my tears, Mum said, ‘Shush, child, let me tell you everything.

And the Choudry, who fathered you, was shot and killed by his own son, Asmat Choudry, for what he had done. And I took you, and called you Shamshad. And your sister is called Kiran.'

I pushed her away and ran upstairs to my bedroom. She followed me. I slammed the door shut and locked it from inside. Rani was sleeping on my bed. She stood up. Her body all erect. She jumped off and went under the bed. Mum knocked on the door, pleading for me to open it. I ignored her. I pulled a pair of scissors out of the drawer and looked at myself in the mirror. My dark skinned face was hideous. I pulled my hijab off and ripped it up. I loosened my hair. Curly black snakes dangled over my shoulders.

‘Open the door, Shamshad,' Mum called again and again.

Ignoring her, I cut the snakes and slashed my prayer mat.

I looked at my hand. My veins were throbbing. I put the blade of the scissors on my wrist. The door burst open. They were both there,
my Mum and my Dad.

I clenched my fist and held the scissors in my hand like a dagger.

She stepped forward, nodding, ‘Stab me now. It is your right.'

And he stepped forward, fell to the ground and kissed my feet, saying, 'Do as you will to me.' I raised my scissor-knife. My mobile rang. It was Laila. I ignored it. It rang and rang. I ignored it and clutched the scissors tighter. There was a text. I stepped away and read it:
Kiran's Mum in hospital. Dying. Just landed. Will be there. I know everything.

Dad stood up.

I put the scissors on the desk, showed him the text from Laila, and said, ‘Take me to the hospital right now!'

I got another text from Dad:
In taxi.

I read more of Mum's letter.
All I could do was to live and relive the minutes, trying to wind the clock back, to get my Ajmal back, to leave this place and go back home with my baby. Your father's village is a cruel village. In the village, there was a woman, called Khatija, who had been made pregnant by a big, powerful man. Khatija gave birth to twins, two girls. They were going to be killed at birth, but we didn't let that happen. Liaqat and I took you and loved you. We named you Kiran, our light. And the other one, your sister, is called Shamshad, a shade for her family. I don't understand fully why, but in that village a vow was taken, never ever to mention this. I don't know why I went along with it for all those years. I should have stood up to them. Forgive me, my daughter.

‘Could I please have the letter, young lady?' the policeman asked me.

I ignored the policeman and read on.
‘And some times when I used to cry, it was not just for my baby. I cried for you not knowing, for me not knowing how to tell you, but also for the mother who lost two, from whom we took her babies. I know you must be hurting now and I ask you to forgive me. And tell your father I have always loved him and even as I write my last word, I still love him, but I can't live with all this pain any more. I love you and have always loved you. Mum.'

I stood up and handed the policeman the letter.

A nurse called my name. Jake grabbed my hand and we went into the emergency corridor. I searched the nurse's face to see if Mum had died. The nurse opened a door and Jake and I walked in.

‘Is she dead?' I asked.

The nurse looked away from me, and said, ‘The doctor is coming to see you,' and left.

A few moments later a doctor came in, his lips pursed.

‘She has lost a lot of blood,' the doctor said. ‘But she should be OK.' ‘Should be or will be?' I asked, ‘Can I see her, please?'

‘She's asleep now. When she wakes up, we'll call you. Please stay in the waiting room.'

I prayed inside my head, ‘Oh God save her, or I will never believe in you.'

At first, I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw her walking in through the main door of the hospital. Her hair was a mess, all chopped up. One side of it above her ears, the other on her shoulder. But it was Shamshad all right. When she saw me, she ran towards me, her arms open. Her Mum and Dad behind her.

We hugged each other and cried. ‘Kiran, I'm so sorry,' Shamshad said. ‘So do you know?' I asked.

‘I know,' she said. ‘It hurts.'

‘I know,' I said.

‘How's your Mum?' Shamshad laughed. ‘They said she'll be fine. She's sleeping now.' ‘
Insha'Allah
, god willing,' Shamshad said. ‘
Insha'Allah
,' I said.

Shamshad stepped back from me a little, wiped my face with her hand, and said, ‘I hope so, Kiran, I really hope so.' Jake gave Shamshad and me each a tissue. Shamshad closed her blood-shot eyes and wiped them. I took off my hijab and tried to put it on her head. She backed off, shaking her head. I forced it on her head, asking, ‘Who's older, you or me?'

‘Me,' Shamshad smiled, adjusting her headscarf, ‘probably.'

‘No, you're just a big bully,' I laughed.

Shamshad's smile disappeared. She said, ‘I said, “I'm sorry.”' ‘Just joking, sis.'

I got a text from Laila:
How's your Mum?

I showed it to Shamshad, and then replied:
She'll pull through.
Laila replied:
B there in 2 mins.

Then I got another one Laila:
Love your Mum.
Then I got another one from Laila:
Mums!

I showed the messages to Shamshad and we burst out laughing. ‘What's so funny?' Jake asked, leaning towards us, trying to read the texts.

I showed him my mobile. He grinned.

Shamshad whispered in my ear, ‘What's he doing here?' ‘Shall we adopt him as a brother?' I whispered back. Shamshad looked Jake up and down and said, ‘Him, a
gora
!' ‘You know!' I laughed.

‘What's up with your two?' Jake asked.

We ignored him and giggled.

Laila came in through the big swing doors of the entrance of the hospital. The Pakistan International Airlines tab still on her handbag.

The three of us hugged.

Looking at Jake standing on his own not far from us, Laila exclaimed, ‘Jake!'

Shamshad and I looked at each, and then said together, ‘Our brother!' Jake blushed. He was about to say something when Laila interrupted, ‘And Jake, I heard a story about an English soldier who got captured and converted…'

‘Converted!' Jake said, ‘Dex? My brother! You must be mad.' ‘I didn't say it was Dex,' Laila said.

‘It can't be Dex, can it?' Jake asked.

Laila shrugged her shoulders, and said, ‘I said, I just heard a story.' Dad came in.

Hugging Laila, I saw the other woman with Dad. She was thin and dark.

Is that what you left Mum for? I thought.

A few moments after Laila came, Kiran's Dad walked in with the dark woman I had often seen on Skype. It was our mother. She was wearing a blue
shalwar kameez
suit and a thick brown jumper. Her cheeks were sunken. She had deep dark patches under her eyes. She had her arms pressed into her side. She stood a few yards away from Kiran and me. Staring at us. She joined her hands and put them up to her face, staring at us, trembling. Kiran's Dad came up to me and put his hand on my head and stepped towards Kiran to hug her.

Pushing her Dad away from her, Kiran said, ‘So you brought your wife with you to hospital, eh?'

I thought Dad would get angry with me for what I had said to him, but he didn't. He looked at the dark woman, then at me and said, ‘Kiran, this is your real mother.'

I felt faint. Shamshad put her arm around me and walked me towards mother. Mother stepped back a little. She seemed to shrink, like a scared bird. ‘
Ameejee
,' Shamshad cried, ‘Mother.'

Mother kissed her hand and touched it to my face. Then she stepped forwards, stroked her hand down my face and then Shamshad's. She said something in Punjabi.

‘She wants to know if we understand her language.' Shamshad said to me.

Shamshad said a lot of words back to her. Mother shed heavier tears with each word. Turning to me, Shamshad said, ‘I told her you can't.'

So many eyes were staring at us. A white man, with one arm in plaster and a bandage round his head, came out of the emergency room, and said, ‘Does your whole tribe need to turn up if one of youse has got a headache?' Jake turned to him so fast I thought he was going to hit him. But before Jake could say anything, Elizabeth from the East Boarhead Curry Club stepped in between the man and Jake. George and Mrs Bulldog were there as well. Elizabeth wasn't wearing her usual fancy clothes but George as ever was in his usual attire. Pointing a finger straight at the face of the white man with his arm in plaster, Elizabeth said, ‘Beat it you twat, before I gob you one.' Nodding to Mrs Bulldog, Elizabeth added quickly, ‘And then you'll ‘ave Hilda to deal with.'

‘Blimey, Liz, never thought you had it in yer to say sommet like this,' Hilda said.

‘Leave it, it doesn't matter,' I said. ‘It does,' George said.

The man with the injured arm lowered his head and walked out of the hospital.

Hilda went up to some people who were sitting in a corner and said something to them. They moved to other chairs, leaving four seats empty in a corner of the waiting room. Hilda came up to me and gave me a great big hug. She was still in her blue work clothes. I could smell the scent of baking biscuits on her. Shamshad, Mother, Laila and I sat down in the corner. Dad was talking to a nurse. After he finished talking to the nurse, he came up to me and said, ‘Love you Kiran. Let me see Sharon on my own for a bit, first.'

I nodded and he left.

Laila took out a cream-coloured scarf from her purse and gave it to me, saying, ‘I bought this for you at Islamabad airport.'

‘It's beautiful,' I said.

Mother looked us up and down, and she said something to Shamshad. ‘Is she angry with me?' I asked Shamshad.

‘Mother wants to know if you are angry with her?' Shamshad said. I shook my head.

Mother's face lit up with a massive smile. She spoke slowly. Her words falling out of her mouth like flowers.

Shamshad translated as she spoke, ‘There was never a day in which I didn't think of you. There was never a night when I didn't dream of you. There was never a ray of light, in which I didn't see my Kiran, and there was never a tree whose shade didn't remind me of my Shamshad. I knew your names. That's all I knew. And yes, I was angry, but with God, for giving me children they way He did. And then I was grateful to him for keeping you safe. And then I was angry with him for not letting me see you, even your faces, once, before today, not even a photograph. And now, I am the happiest mother on this earth, in front of whom shine the most beautiful jewels of this world.'

Dad came back and said to me, ‘She's awake, you can see her.'

I looked at Mother. ‘Go see her, Kiran, and give her my
salaam
. Tell her I prayed for her all the way through the flight.'

Shamshad translated for me.

‘How does she know what Dad said?'

Shamshad asked mother. Mother smiled and replied to Shamshad. ‘She said the look on your face told her that the Almighty had listened to her prayers.'

Getting up to see Mum, I took hold of Dad's hand, and said to Shamshad, ‘We're a
right
family, aren't we!'

Throwing a look at her Mum and Dad, who had stood at the side of the entrance to the hospital all this time, Shamshad replied, ‘Aren't we just!'

I went with Dad to see Mum, the East Boarhead Curry Club came along. As we went into a corridor, a nurse stopped us saying, ‘Two at a time please.'

‘Give it a rest nurse,' Hilda replied to the nurse, ‘We need to see our lass.'