The van is cold. I sit in the driving seat beleaguered with the height as I am used to driving a smaller car, closer to the road. Ducking, to find the ignition, I struggle searching for it under the steering wheel. I can't find it. Every task is a burden, the thought of driving this large vehicle beleaguers me and all I want to do is drive down off this hill. Where will it lead me? I don't know. I don't care. Dark thoughts haunt me, they've returned and the idea of driving into a busy dual carriage way-a motorway- plays on my mind. God, it's tempting.
When I was twelve in the midst of self harming, sometimes, the cut wasn't deep. The bloodletting was slow. I thought explicitly of slitting my wrists and putting an end to this horror story called My Life. Tonight, the thoughts were back. I could smash the barrier and drive down the steep hill.
But how could I do that? Behind me, three darling children depended on me. All three cuddled under the blanket sleeping peacefully. Zeenat told me to care for them, to protect them, not drive them to their death. No. I can't punish them. I must find a way to take them to my mum. Mum would look after them. My head bowed, my forehead rested on the steering wheel sobs racked through my chilly bones. I was exhausted. I need Zayn. I had to muster an ounce of energy and return home.
Finally, I found the ignition, it was under the steering wheel. The engine flutters and conks out.
"Please don't do this to me." I pray.
Once again, I turn the key this time it turns and starts. Sitting at the back of the seat, my feet barely touch the break and accelerator. So, I shuffle my bum towards the edge of the seat and tap the gas letting a might roar. I turned to look though the rear-view window, but it's pitch black. It's a van, there is no rear-view window. From the wing mirrors I can just about make the main road. I hate driving in the dark, no street lights and a large van. How will I drive? Shoving the sticky gear stick into reverse, I tapped the accelerator and released the handbrake. The van groaned and jumped backwards causing a burst of panic and the van stalled. I lifted the handbrake halting the car. This was useless. I can't do this. Where are you Zayn? Come back.
Once again, I tried. I reversed the van and drove onto the main road. Clicking the headlights on, I could see the narrow road yet unsure where I was going. With my mobile dead, shoved somewhere in my suitcase, I have no sat nav and no idea where I was going. Surely, somewhere I would come across a blue road sign to guide me back into the city of Birmingham?
Nervously, with fear that the police would catch me driving an uninsured vehicle, I entered a small sleepy town with detached houses and bungalows. The streets were narrow, and it was difficult driving a large van. I had to make wide turn to make sharp corners.
Luckily, Zayn hadn't taken us far, we were in Wolverhampton and Birmingham soon displayed on the blue road signs. The tank was half full of diesel to take me back and with the sun rise, I felt confident driving.
Travelling in familiar streets in Birmingham, my stomach twisted with worry thinking what I would say to mum. Dad would ask a million questions and I wasn't in the right frame of mind to answer him. Right now, I had to get the children into a warm house. They could catch a cold and maybe hypothermia. Grappling with guilt and regret, my tears showed no signs of ending. Like a waterfall, they'd flow thinking back at Zayn's heart-breaking revelations.
'You saw me.'
Dressed in Zayn's jacket, wrapped in a black shawl, it was 8:45 am on a frosty December morning I returned home. It had been a year since the news of Zeenat's death and under a year since I married Zayn. Was this the end of my marriage?
The rickety van chugged along Montgomery Road and I parked it haphazardly outside my parent's house. Staring at the front white door, I saw myself dressed as a bride who'd been forced to accept the mission and marry my recently widowed brother in law.
'I need you there. You are my right hand.' Now I know what dad meant.
Now, just under a year here I was; home. The children safe with me. Zayn had left. I was a good obedient daughter. Surely now, dad would be proud of me? He wouldn't care about the lies I'd swirled around Zayn. Nor would he give Zayn's feelings a second thought. I'd broke Zayn's heart, betrayed him and snatched his children to please my dad. This heartache served a purpose; to please my father. The end justified the means. All my life, I searched for his endorsement. I wanted to be his good and favourite daughter. I wanted dad to sing my praises to his friends and family. Today, it was my day. I was his good daughter.
Shaking slumber from the children, their faces were cold, their hands freezing I woke them. Their noses red, their hands freezing I rubbed their warmth into Zara's hands.
"Where's daddy?" She rubbed her eyes.
Carrying Aymaan in my arms with Armaan and Zara beside me, it was mum who opened the door. Her smile drooped into a frown when she saw my dishevelled state dressed in Zayn's jacket, my hair blowing in the wind. She stepped out reaching out to me, her hand warm and soft she touched my frosted face.
"Beti-" She asked with fear etched on her face like she knew.
Her eyes widened, and wrinkles appeared around her eyes evoking raw pain etched on my heart.
"Come inside-quickly." She ushered me into the house and took Aymaan from my arms.
It was the heat that instantly hit me once I stepped inside. Dressed in sky blue casual salwar kameez, dad appeared from the kitchen holding a mug of tea in his right hand. His reading glasses sat on the edge of his nose. He must have been reading the property section of the paper. A broken smile plastered my face.
"Look dad-I'm back." I held my arms out. "Look I've bought back the children-just like you wanted me to." Lifting Zara into my arms I handed her to him, his pride and joy; Zeenat's daughter.
"I did what you asked. Are you proud of me?"He watched me like a mad woman and placed his mug on the small hall table.
"I've bought back Zeenat's kids. Zayn's gone. He's left me and he won't be back." My voice chocked.
"What happened?" His eyebrows bunched together.
"Does it matter? The children are here, Zayn has gone. Nothing else matters, does it dad?"
Mum scurried the children inside the lounge.
"Come into the lounge, beti?"
"I'm not sad." I blinked repeatedly. I wasn't going to cry in front of him. "I did my duty as your daughter. That's what we've been taught to listen to our parents, to do what they tell us to do, to never say 'uff' to you. That's what I did dad-" my voice quivered refusing to support me. I had to stay strong.
"I did all for you dad. Everything I did to Zayn-" Tears chocked me, yet still I pushed through. "I made a plan and it worked. I did it all for you, to get rid of him. Staring at dad's wide eyes, I forged a smile. A sadistic chuckle left the back of my throat. "I broke him, dad. He's alone now. He's got no one. I've come back."
I paused waiting for an answer, a cheer maybe even a 'shabash' (well done).There was nothing.
"Zayn's given up dad. He's walked away. We did it. He cared about me, but I don't care about him."
"Then why are you wearing his jacket?"
He saw through me. It was pointless lying to him. My legs shivered, my knees gave way and and I collapsed onto the floor in a pathetic heap.
"I've done everything you asked me." I sobbed into my hands. Mum rushed towards me and kneeled beside me.
I looked at her with fury. "Why didn't you say anything, ammi? You were my mum, if dad was cruel, why didn't you love me?"
"Get up, my jaan-"
"No, leave me here ammi. Zayn trusted me, he loved me, and I let him down. I broke his trust. I've lost him, ammi -I've lost him forever."
*****
Back in my bedroom, everything was still in the same place. The purple beanbag in the corner, my favourite reading spot. I made my way to the window sill; the coffee stain ring was no more. Mum dusted and cleaned my room certain I would be home.
I lay on my single bed, staring at the ceiling. It dawned on me, I was home. Safe. Hours ago I was contemplating driving the van off a steep hill. It was the children who kept me alive. So much had happened in the space of a year. I'd changed. My marriage with Zayn changed the scope of the world and my family. I felt like a stranger in this room. I pulled his jacket tight around me and closed my eyes sniffing the fleece. It had an earthy smell of Zayn. His blood dotted the fleece. Where was he? Where had he gone? Zayn told me he was happy when I returned into his life to take care of him and his children and was ready to marry me. I thought he hated me. He's placed me on a pedestal and felt inferior to me as I 'read books.' He'd harboured intense feelings, that mine felt insignificant next to his. He needed someone to care for him and what did I do? I reported him to the police. I colluded with Kash to entrap him, and those cameras! Oh God. Those cameras I agreed to fit, if Zayn ever knew about that- I must tell him the whole truth. I had to be honest with him. I must mend the cracks. But on the other hand, omitting the information was tempting. We'd moved out, Kash wasn't in contact with me and that was in that past. Would I be a bad person, if I didn't tell Zayn? Yes, I made a mistake, I made a stupid decision, but now I knew Zayn's feelings, I know I was wrong. I needed to speak to Zayn. I had to apologise to him. He had to forgive me. There was so much I had to say.
In mum's bedroom, I grabbed the phone and dialled his number. I knew his number by heart. When he was in Bristol, I'd look at the mobile and read his number waiting for him to call.
"0796....."
His phone rang and went to voice mail.
"Zayn. Zayn, please answer. It's me. Zo'hra. I'm here at mum's house. I had nowhere- I'm waiting here for you. Please, don't leave like this. I didn't know you felt like this you didn't tell me anything please pick up call me I can't carry on I need you don't leave it like this-you don't understand everything-please call. Zayn-answer the phone." With that muddled pathetic message I hung up.
I rang again waiting for him to answer. He didn't. I rang again, and it went straight to voice mail.
"Zayn-please call me. I need to talk to you."
Mum came into the room her eyes bunched with worry, but I couldn't hear her. My fears drowned her words. I stood up and walked past her back into my bedroom ignoring her. I had nothing to say to her.
I wanted to be alone.
I was a mess.
****
It was the sound of plastic bags that awoke me. I searched around the room wondering where I was. I was at home in my bedroom. It didn't feel like home. Mum bought my bags and suitcase in my room. She sat on the edge of the bed where I had dropped off to sleep warm in Zayn's coat. I could smell him around me. But he wasn't here. She stroked my hair and whispered.
"Beti-" her words stuck in her throat she paused. Then she kissed my forehead. "Come, have something to eat."
I turned, flat on my back staring at the ceiling, tears running down my temples.
"I'm alone." I breathed.
"No. We're here with you."
"Why do I still feel alone?"
In the bathroom, the extent of the scratches and bruises were apparent in the mirror. A scratch along my neck, bruises around my shoulders and arms where Suhel grabbed me. My stomach twisted with knots thinking about what could have happened.
After a long shower, I dressed into a black chiffon dress with pattered criss-cross fuchsia border that mum ironed for me and left on the bed. For twenty minutes I held the dress recalling the day Mum gifted this dress for my twenty fifth birthday. When I tried it on, it pinched me around my breast and waist. Mum was adamant to return it. I loved it so much, I promised her I'd lose a few pounds to fit into it. Today the dress was loose.
In the kitchen the children sat around the dinning table and mum stood on the stove cooking macaroni and cheese. I looked at the time and it was already half past twelve. Zara ran towards me and pulled my dress. I kneeled and held her smelling the scent from her hair.
"Where's daddy?" She queried.
I could hear dad's footsteps behind me.
"I miss daddy."
"So do I." I whispered. "So do I miss your daddy, my darling." Her body was therapeutic. I held her firmly, mindful that she was a part of Zayn, she shared his DNA, his genetics. Holding her was like holding Zayn.
****
It was after lunch when dad decided to break the silence. Mum took the children to the bathroom and bathed them, one by one. We sat in the lounge in silence.
"What happened? Zara was saying a man was banging on the door?" Dad broke the eerie silence.
I stirred the spoon in my tea cup and tapped it on the edge placing it on the table.
"Who was he?" he was frustrated with my silence. Mum must have told him off and ordered him to be patient. But dad was never patient.
"He was the landlord. He wanted money."
"Hmph." Dad scoffed shaking is property paper. "Landlord?" he put the paper down. "What landlord?"
It then hit me. As far as dad was concerned, we were living in our own house in Walsall.
"What are you talking about?"
I had to tell him the truth. There was no hiding the truth "Our house was repossessed."
He slapped his hands on his thigh.
"I knew it! That boy-" His curses didn't register with me. I blocked them out.
"Tell me-what happened!" he demanded. So, I put the tea down afraid it would spill.
"Zayn's friend allowed us to stay in his flat. But we were behind with the rent-"
"Why didn't you come home?" He shifted his body turning to me. "Why did he take you to a flat!? He took my grandchildren to a shabby flat." A flat was a curse. A swear word for a man who owned mansions and many houses.
"Dad, do you think he could come here? He'd never hear the end of it." I argued.
"Wait till he comes here-" Dad threw threats in the air like Zayn would return.
"He couldn't look after my Zeenat and now he can't look after my grandchildren."
At no point did I come into the equation. Once again it was about Zeenat and her children, not what I suffered or what I went through. Zayn tried, and he tried until he broke. His tries would never be recognised with dad beacuse of who he was, Zayn-the man who Zeenat ran off with. That was enough. Mum came downstairs to calm dad, but she made it worse when dad realised she knew the house was repossessed.
"I am the enemy, aren't I?" He began yelling at her.
"Why do I work? For all you and you keep secrets from me." Mum hung her head with guilt.
With dad yelling we didn't hear the knocks on the door. Zara rushed to the door in hope that it was her dad. My heart eloped with joy sharing her desire. However, dad prohibited anyone to open the door.
"I'll deal with him." He shut me into the lounge door as mum followed.
Mum returned moments later her face panicked, her eyes wide.
"It's the police!"
Oh no! They'd followed us back here. I rushed out and stood in the hallway listening in as two police men in uniforms talked to dad.
"We need to speak to your son in law, Zayn Qiyani."
"Why what has he done"?
"There was an attack on a take away in Wolverhampton, and we would like to question him."
"What happened?"
"Is he inside?"
"What did he do?"
"We're working that out Mr Zafar."
"You think he attacked the shop?"
"The staff were attacked and the take away destroyed. So, we need to speak to him in our line of enquiries."
"No!" Dad shouted. "He doesn't live here. He will never live here. I won't allow him back."
In dad's eyes he was guilty, there was no way to justify the attack.
"If you see him-"
"I will drag him to the police station myself. I don't want anything to do with that bastard!"
Zayn was a wanted man. Any chance of him returning was squandered. It wasn't Zayn's fault. He was protecting me. I rushed to my room and opened my suitcase and fished around for my mobile. I clicked in the charger and switched it on. I scrolled through the list and dialled Kash. I needed the footage from the cameras. I needed Kash. Once I had the footage of Suhel attacking me, I would use it against the filthy rat. I could take the evidence to the police. Zayn wasn't going down for this.
However, Kash wasn't answering the phone. Where was he? Why wasn't he back? Inside my hand bag I searched for his business card. The one he gave me in the park. I needed to find him. I had to go to Leeds and meet him. This was my last chance to fight for Zayn. He couldn't go to prison. Dad's loud voice thundered through the floorboards. He was ready to shop Zayn, the second he would find out where he was. My mind clouded with fear for Zayn, I felt like I was walking through water.
"What did Zayn do? Who did he attack?" Dad stood at my bedroom room with mum standing behind him.
Sitting on the floor near my phone and charger, I turned away refusing to talk to him. Nothing I would say would make things better. In fact, it would make everything worse.
"The children are scared." Mum begged him to calm down.
"I knew he was an animal. Beating people up, breaking things."
"He saved me dad." I stood up in Zayn's defence.
"Saved you? From who?"
Now mum's interest had peaked.
"Tell me!"
"There's no point telling you. You always see him at fault."
"You see what she is doing now?" Dad turned to mum when her daughters weren't answering to him. It was his tactic to use mum.
"She is protecting the pathan. He has turned our only daughter against her parents."
"Beti, what happened?" Mum's soft voice evoked answers.
I pulled back my sleeve revealing the purple bruises on my arms. Mum gasped.
"Who did this?" She held my arm.
"Zayn was in Bristol and the landlord wanted rent. So last night he came into the flat-" I looked at dad he froze. I couldn't complete the sentence. I was ashamed to say it- 'attempted rape'.
"It's not Zayn's fault, dad. The landlord was his friend, he just switched. When Zayn found out he beat them all like they deserved. This was my fault. I should have locked the door."
Mum turned to dad for a response, even I waited with abated breath. His eyes fixed upon my arm. Then, he walked out.
"Dad-"
He turned lifting his index finger at me, shaking with pent up rage.
"I will have Zayn arrested if he come's here."
"No, dad-"
"Not another word." He hissed and grabbed my arm yanking me towards him.
"He put you in that flat. He left you. He knew them. If I ever see him again-" He sucked in a deep breath of fury.
"Now I will handle this." Fear ran through my spine.
"I will call the elders here today and I will finish this all." He flung my arm aside and marched downstairs. What did he mean finish this? I pursued him begging for an answer.
"Dad, what do you mean?" This was serious if dad would summon the family. Together, they would come to a conclusion. What was he making it official?
"Dad!" I yelled when we stopped in the lounge. "What are you going to do?"
Zara placed out little toy cups and saucers in front of her brother and set one out for her dad.
"This is daddy's plate. This is mommy's-"The conflict in the room spread fear through her. Her eyes wide. She froze looking up at dad.
Dad glared at mum and decided.
"It's over! You're divorcing Zayn!"