Sheetal called the next morning, adamant to learn about her meeting with Rajah Naveed, but Mahnoor didn't answer. Sheetal could read the expression on Mahnoor's face and would instantly know something happened. Instead, Mahnoor took the day off for Nadiya as she had to make it up to her for not turning up last night. Mahnoor dressed casually in a pastel white salwar kameez set out to meet Nadiya and her daughters in Stratford Road. She put the ring at the back of her mind; it was time to think about her son's wedding.
After two long hours of choosing the perfect gold set Mahoor stood with Nadiya and Amirah at the sparkling gold counter. Nadiya held the necklace against Amirah's neck.
"There's no point." Amirah complained that she never wore gold.
"Gold is not just an ornament. It's security. When times get tough in marriage, a woman can sell her jewellery to ease difficulties." Nadiya tied the hook in place.
"Mum can I get a gold tooth." Soniya stared into the mirror flashing her gritted teeth.
"Mum we don't live in a village." Amirah stood back as Mahnoor and Nadiya admired the necklace. "We live in England and we have social security."
The jeweller tallied up their total on the calculator bringing the final figure to an eye watering 4 and a half thousand pounds. The bridal set contained 22 carat yellow gold necklace and drop earrings, 10 carat bridal swedding band and 21 carat bracelet set weighing at 58.6 grams for 2 thousand and five hundred pounds. Mahnoor punched her pin into the machine paying a measly deposit of 500 pounds.
"You'll have the rest next weekend." She lied. She had no idea where the money would come from.
Throughout the day Nadiya flashed Khizar's credit card with poise boasting how Khizar allowed her free reign of the spending, leaving her envious. "It's the father who provides for his children. Even though the marriage may break down, he's still responsible and should be there for his children on the important day of their life."
The poignant remark made Mahnoor ponder on whether she should contact Basharat and hope he could make a contribution. The idea was ludicrous at first, but Mahnoor warmed to it more as the day went on. Ayaaz was her and Basharat's only son. Maybe he could ease her money worries?
Should I ask him for money?
Sitting in the restaurant, the gangly, spectacled waiter bought two cups of pink Kashmiri tea to Nadiya and Mahnoor's table. Amirah and Soniya were still in the shops choosing shoes to match their outfits.
"It's so nice to go out. Shopping for me is like a mini-vacation." Nadiya mixed two heaped spoons full of sugar into her cup and sighing with relief. "The boys are a handful and when I take them to Pakistan, it's like I'm working over time."
Mahnoor enjoyed Nadiya's company. Her initial judgement soon melted when Nadiya was secure in her relationship with Amirah. One thing Mahnoor admired was her glossy black bob cut. The cut complimented her round shaped face; she wore a traditional nose ring on the right side of her nose with gold earrings. Nadiya dressed in traditional salwar kameez and spoke less English and more Mirpuri, even though she was British she preferred talking in her mother tongue.
"How is it going with your husband's visa?" Asked Mahnoor.
"The Home Office are being pernickety. They want to know everything and how much money I have in the bank, the size of the house and rooms. So I showed them my boys only live with me. I hope-" she crossed her fingers "-he will arrive in the UK in time for the wedding, or else I don't know how I will handle my boisterous boys. There is so much to be done."
They continued to discuss the wedding and Nadiya invited Ayaaz and Mahnoor over for dinner in the coming weeks. "It would be nice if we could get together. I haven't seen Ayaaz for a while."
Mahnoor politely accepted.
"Last night Khizar came over and stayed for two whole hours!" Nadiya's eyes widened with joy which Mahnoor couldn't interpret.
Since the rainy night of Kara's suicide attempt, Mahnoor hadn't seen or heard from Khizar. Muddasar's short life troubled her breaking her heart inch by inch. Ultimately, it was Khizar's breakdown which worried her and left the taste of mint upon her lips. It was a surreal night.
"Usually, Khizar pops by for five minutes, but this time he took the girls bowling even though he hates wearing those stinky shoes. But he did it for Soniya's sake." Nadiya bubbled with joy. "Then he sat with mum and listened to her complain about the pain in her lower back. He was just like the old Khizar, the one I courted." Nadiya sipped her tea taking her mind back to the summer of their marriage.
"I'll tell you one thing, my Imran may be 15 years younger but you can't beat a man with experience. Sometimes I feel like I'm his teacher explaining what to do."
Mahnoor choked back her tea and pressed her hand against her mouth astounded by Nadiya's frankness.
"Imran is like a keen bright eyed bushy tailed student-" Nadiya explained in a metaphor. "-eager to finish first and scribbles out of sync. So I have to stop him and explain to him to use all the crayons for the different parts of the picture and take your time so that the colours don't go out of the picture." Nadiya snickered. "At times, it's like I have to kick start him." Both women chortled with laughter attracting the attention of the customers.
"But Khizar-" There was a glint of mischief in Nadiya's eyes that made Mahnoor near her head to her in curiosity. Mahnoor was eager to know more.
"Khizar looks like a gentleman, and speaks with eloquence but in the bedroom he was a scoundrel."
They exploded in another bout of naughty laughter.
"His one mouth.......could kiss a hundred different ways." Nadiya gasped for breath unable to speak properly. "And....and..that...that was before the main event."
The waiters looked at each other in astonishment watching the women fill the restaurant with their laughter.
"When I first saw him in his doctor's uniform, I was in A&E because Amirah stuck a button battery up her nose and my God!" Nadiya pressed her hand on her beating heart.
"Then, as he returned home, I didn't give him a chance to change his clothes." She whispered. "It was at that time....I conceived Soniya.......the doctor's orders."" Nadiya crossed her legs tightening her pelvic muscles as the force of laughter often made her leak. Her pelvic floor wasn't the same after giving birth to a 10 pound child.
"Listen..." Mahnoor reached out to Nadiya tugging her hand unable to string a sentence through her laughter. "To.....to be taken three times a day-" She erupted into another explosion of laughter.
"Yes...yes...after meals." Nadiya completed the sentence tapping her feet in euphoria.
Mahnoor's cheeks flushed crimson unable to recover from the bout of laughter. She pressed her hand against her mouth but Nadiya's wink induced more laughter.
The manager came to the shop floor and watched the women slap their hands with laughter. He looked at the gangly bespectacled waiter. "What have you put in their tea?"
"Crush almonds sir." He replied nervously missing the punch line.
When Amirah and Soniya entered the restaurant, they looked at each other in surprise noticing tears in their mum's eyes.
"Why are you crying?"
Nadiya wiped her tears of laughter, "we were discussing your dad's engine!" Nadiya cackled and Mahnoor joined grabbing each other's hand as their stomachs twisted in knots.
"Whether...." Mahnoor added unable to speak. ".....he needs a jump start or goes from 0 to 100 miles per hour in 10 seconds."
Bewildered Amirah and Soniya watched their mum rolling around with laughter knocking her tea onto the floor like a couple of school girls sharing a cheeky joke.
***
Walking back to their cars, Nadiya reminded Mahnoor of their next family dinner. She bid them farewell after a delightful day with a smile painted on her face. When she approached her car she noticed a man leaning over the bonnet and tinkering with the windscreen wiper.
"Excuse me? Can I help you?" She spoke in a sharp tone.
When he turned around she found Bashrat dressed in his grey jump suit that was tied by the arm around his waist. "I've changed the dodgy wiper."His hands greasy, overalls grimy, he'd appeared from the opposite garage.
"I was over there sorting out that engine and recognised your car. I hope you don't mind." He held his hands up.
Quickly, she jumped into her car and started the engine ready to escape.
"I'm not gonna hurt you. Why are you running away?" He leaned onto the car. "I just want to let you know that I am here for you. I know my son's engaged."
Mahnoor removed her foot from the accelerator. "You got a job?"
"Yeh. A mate told me that when I come out, he'd have a job at his garage. I did a course inside. You see we don't spend our time scratching the walls for an escape route." He clasped his hands behind his head.
It seemed prison did him good. Basharat noticed a hum in the engine. "That don't sound good, you want me to have a look." He then stepped back with his hands on his waist. "Listen, don't push me away I want to be there for our son." He implored.
It was at that moment Mahnoor thought back to Nadiya's comments. It's the father who provides for his children. Even though the marriage may break, it's the father who will remain a father. He should to be there on the most important day of their life.
Mahnoor called out to him. He swallowed hard and turned to her.
"I was wondering if we could talk."
"Yes" he turned in surprise.
"Not here. At Shabnum's. I'll let her know when."
He pressed his lips together to hide his joy. "Of course. What about?" He asked.
"I'll let you know." She pulled out driving away wondering what on earth she was doing. This was her final option to finance the wedding. It was time to decipher his attitude and maybe let him into Ayaaz's life, but at a huge risk.
When Mahnoor returned home, the living room and kitchen lights were on. She switched them off and yelled to Ayaaz.
"How many times have I told you to switch the lights off? The bills are going through the roof." She closed the window slamming it shut. "The heating is on and you've left the windows open." She threw the bags aside and sat on the sofa. Ayaaz came running down on hearing her voice.
"Mum, you okay?"
"You don't care about anything. You're getting married soon and you need to take more responsibility. You need to grow up! I cannot carry your burden forever! I've had enough!" She yelled depleted with energy and regretting her decision.
He kneeled down in front of her. "Mum, what happened?"
She looked at his face and felt noting but love. It wasn't his fault. How could it be? Rajah Naveed and Khizar were exemplary fathers showering their children with wealth, but Ayaaz had only her, there was so much she could do. If she told him about her money woes she was certain he'd get a job on McDonalds on top of his job at PC World to save money. He was a good son, but with a terrible fate. She couldn't let him worry, no, she had to sort it out herself and talking to Basharat was her next step.
**
Dressed in a modest grey suit with the kameez well below her knees, Mahnoor arranged the chiffon scarf over her head and wrapped a shawl over her shoulders ready to face her son's father. She left Ayaaz in his bedroom knowing he was playing the computer games and switched off the gas leaving the lamb meat to simmer in its juices.
Standing in the doorway, she looked across the road where Bashrat waited for her. There was a lot at risk this evening. She hated asking him, going to him but there was no choice. She recalled the credit card in Nadiya's hand, and the ring in her handbag. Maybe Basharat could get his hands on some money and save the embarrassment of asking Sheetal a loan?
Knocking on the front door, Shabnum's 10 year old daughter opened the door and Mahnoor kissed her on her cheeks making her way inside. She could hear the clamour of playful screams leaking from the living room. Shabnum's guest room was pristine, ready for guests she never received. Cold. Clean. Walking along the hallway, she opened the living room door to find Shabnum's three boisterous boys grappling over each other. Under them was Basharat's strong torso. The boys climbed over Basharat pushing and pressing him down and shouting with excitement. One boy pushed his legs down, while the other two pushed his strong shoulders. But Basharat was stronger than all three put together. Like a bear growled, pressing hard on his knuckles, rising up, his biceps bulging through the teal t-shirt and dog tag dangling from his chest. He cheered in jubilation. Instantly, the memory of Ayaaz playing the same game with his father flashed back. He was five, and would climb on his father's shoulders lying down with his small arms around Basharat's thick neck. Basharat would go up and down in a shot making Ayaaz giggle with delight.
"My tummy is feeling funny." Ayaaz would scrunch his nose.
Ayaaz's childhood played in front of her eyes. It was cruel Basharat was here for his nephews yet, his son, who lived across the road sat in front of a computer screen unable to bond with his father. He was a cruel man; he'd destroyed her dreams of a family together. Everything she wanted with this man, he'd wrecked. She lifted her hand pretending to scratch her forehead only to conceal her moist eyes.
"Maava! (Uncle) Maava! My turn!" Called Ali.
Basharat groaned with effort throwing the boys off him, as they fell back losing the game. He lay on his back and they climbed on top of him once again punching his chest playfully.
"Maavi's (auntie) here!" Yell Ali!
Basharat sat up with Ali hanging around his neck. Mahnoor quickly retracted her eyes and looked at Shabnum who stood in the opposite doorway in her stripy apron wiping her wet hands on the dishcloths. The smell of oil filled the air; she was making her tasty egg kebabs for Basharat. Shabnum always went out of her way when he came over. Nothing changed.
"Come on boys!" Basharat clapped his hands sending them up the stairs like rats. With a towel he brushed the sofa making space of Mahnoor. Reluctantly, Mahnoor sat on the corner sofa on the edge of her seat with her hands in her lap aware of his burning gaze upon her. Shabnum sat opposite next to her brother. With only three in the room, the children went to their room to give the adults space.
"Have you had tea? Shall I make you tea?" Shabnum asked.
"Why are you asking her? Go, on make some Shabbo! And get some Nargis kebabs (egg Kebabs) out here." Basharat ordered Shabum
"No!" Mahnoor held her hand up. "Please don't. I've just come for a quick word."
With his legs spread apart, he leaned back folding his arms as the women spoke about frivolous stuff of cooking and the weather allowing him to inspect Mahnoor closely. Their voices drowned out, he feasted upon Mahnoor.
Basharat looked at her hands. Her nails painted red. Her agile wrists he would hold down and lock behind her back. Through her chiffon duppatta he could see her long slender neck, his eyes loitered yearning to run his fingers along the curve. She hadn't changed over the years, her skin looked youthful. He looked down at her petite feet. Her toes. She painted them red. He hated red. He'd always say red was tarty. So he would wipe them clean with nail polish remover when she was asleep. But now, he didn't mind. He licked his lips. She was the only woman who ruled his heart. She was the queen of his castle. It gave him comfort to knowing she was single, the idea of another man staring at her, touching her, holding her or kissing her made his body rigid with anger. He curled his fists into balls and took a deep sigh sitting up straight.
"I'll be straight with you." Mahnoor cleared her throat and looked at her hands nervously. Basharat leaned forward controlling his wayward thoughts.
"I'm here because of Ayaaz and I'm sure you know he is getting married. I want you to come to his wedding." She announced.
"That's what I was always saying. You can't separate father and son." Shabnum added now hanging off Mahnoor's every word.
"Now that he is getting married, people will ask questions and it would be good for you to be there to support him." She gazed at his strong knees, thick thighs, and those hands, hands like shovels. He would grab her by the waist and throw her over his shoulder and carry her to their bedroom. She would kick her legs, beating his back like he was a bandit and then he'd throw her on the bed and tickle her stomach making her scream with laughter.
"So why didn't you call us to the engagement? You did everything on your own with that Mumtaz and you didn't bother calling us." Shabnum complained. But Mahnoor didn't hear her nasal voice; her memories were deafeningly loud as brother and sister argued.
"Leave it Shabbo!" He exclaimed.
Why don't I find him repulsive? Was this an excuse to see him? Do I still miss him? Do I long for him?
"I'm made up that you came here." Basharat edged forward. "I wanna be there when our son get's wed. I have to be there."
Our son.
That's when Basharat held her gaze. Their son. The son she conceived on the rainy August night. Mahnoor could recall that night as clear as the way he was looking at her. It was crazy stupid love. Her mother and her brother were against him. He had no job. No ambitions and spent his days circling the library where she worked. But that worked for Mahnoor, who didn't care for money, wealth and cars all she wanted was a man who was devoted to her. All the movies romanticised rebellion and she dreamed of living dangerously with a rogue on the run in some ramshackle hut whose eyes burned with passion. To hell with the world. Just being with the man she loved was all she cared about and she abandoned her studies to live the dream. Reluctantly, her mother agreed to her marriage and held a small private ceremony. Mahnoor moved in with Mumtaz and her husband but the Ismail couldn't carry the financial burden and asked Bashrat to move out.
In the third month of their marriage, Basharat found a dark and dinghy flat, the roof leaked and buckets dotted around the room catching the drops from the rain. His knuckles were grazed after punching the neighbour. She liked his aggressive nature it turned her on. She loved it when he was possessive even if the Bengali neighbour didn't look at her and it was all in his head. It was romantic at that tender age. He threw off his t-shirt in the dark lit room, the electricity fizzed around them. She lay on the mattress in the living room floor. They hadn't eaten, they hadn't showered but nothing mattered they were alone. She hungered for him. The guitar played in the next apartment and the music permeated through the paper thin walls and his large frame mounted her. Her toes curled and she pulled his dog tag towards her.
"I love you Bash!"
Mahnoor took a deep sigh stepping out of the clutches of her memories. Heat flooded her and she tugged her scarf over her head. Basharat was her dream that soon turned into a nightmare.
"Actually, I shouldn't have come." She stood up, her chest tightening.
"No." He mirrored her. "Tell me what I can do to help. Do you need money? I have some money stashed away; it's no good to me. Ayaaz is my only son and I want spend the money on him."
"That's why she is here." Shabnum interjected. "She's only allowing you see Ayaaz because she needs money otherwise she's not bothered."
"Yes, I need money." Mahnoor looked at Shabnum. "Ayaaz earns but it's not much that I can save. Then there are bills, clothes, gold, bills and expenses-"
"He's my son." Basharat declared nearing to Mahnoor. It was what she wanted to hear, someone to take care of Ayaaz.
"How much?" He asked without hesitation.
"However much you can spare." Relief struck Mahnoor when she shared her burden.
"When do you want it?" His tone was light and soft; she couldn't look at him and dotted her eyes around the room. "Whenever you have it."
He stepped closer to her. "I want to see our son." There, he said it again. He saw her reaction the first time and wanted to see her eyes flash with memories of them in the dark flat with leaky roof, entwined in passion. But she bowed her eyes and stepped away from him.
"I'll talk to Ayaaz." She agreed. "Thank you." She spoke when she stood safely at the door.
Mahnoor quickly left the house wondering how she would break the news to Ayaaz. Would he agree to see his estranged father? What would he say to his dad's money? She could see a torrential storm ahead.