I slip off my shoes and enter the meeting.
The sister who spoke to the teacher the last time I was here is on her feet.
‘We must raise our voices,’ she is saying, ‘and show the world that Islam is not to be trifled with.’
Something in her body language annoys me. Maybe it’s the way her chin tilts upwards. Or the way her hip thrusts to the side. Once again I notice the tendril of hair that escapes from her hijab.
‘How can we show we are serious in our intentions if sisters cannot obey the simple rules set down for them?’
Everyone turns to me.
‘We must live completely in Islam.’ I take control of the crowd.
The sister at least has the dignity to concede and sits down.
I point my finger to the sky. ‘And make no mistake, we must be prepared to die that way.’
Later, as I walk home, I begin to open my eyes. I begin to notice things around me.
Women are everywhere, chatting, shopping and laughing. I have been so consumed with hatred for the
kuffar
that I have failed to notice my own people have taken a wrong turn.
It takes my breath away. Bare heads. Lipstick. Painted toes.
While my face has been turned towards Palestine I have failed to notice evil much closer to home.
I make a
dua
. Allah has shown me my path.
The nurse applied cream to the blisters on Lilly’s forehead. The pain made her wince.
‘Is it bad?’ Lilly asked.
The nurse gave a half-smile. ‘I’ve seen sunburn worse than this.’ She reached behind her for a mirror and held it up.
Lilly groaned. The blisters looked like the late onset of acne, or a nasty batch of chicken pox, but that was not the worst of it. It was her hair. What was often frizzy and out of control now resembled an old bird’s nest. She pulled at a tendril but there was no spring in it, like a dried-out clump of grass.
‘What in God’s name am I going to do with this?’
The nurse laughed. ‘Get a bob?’
Lilly sighed. She had had long hair since childhood. While all her school mates were getting Purdy cuts and perming their fringes, Lilly had retained Pre-Raphaelite curls to the base of her spine.
‘Like an angel,’ her dad used to say.
Elsa had whinged about the time it took to wash and had raked a vicious wire comb through it each morning. But Lilly didn’t care. She had kept it long and luscious. Over the years she’d trimmed it to shoulder length but it had still been her crowning glory. Now look at it.
She thanked the nurse and went to find Taslima. She still couldn’t think of her as Zahara. She needed to ask her so many things. Find out why she had lied.
But when she arrived at the ward Lilly swallowed her questions. There would be time for answers, but not now.
Taslima lay very still, her head no longer swathed by her hijab but a thick cap of white bandages. Her right hand had also disappeared under a white dressing.
‘Hi.’ Lilly dropped gently into a chair at the side of Taslima’s bed.
Taslima tried to speak, but her voice was little more than a choke that erupted into a coughing fit.
Lilly poured a glass of water from a plastic jug and held it to Taslima’s lips. She watched her trachea move as she swallowed.
‘Thanks,’ Taslima whispered.
‘Do you know who I am?’ Lilly asked.
Taslima smiled. ‘Things come and go, but not you.’
‘And not Rogon.’
‘Definitely not him.’
Lilly bit her lip and reminded herself that now was not the time.
‘Why didn’t you tell me about him?’ she asked.
Taslima gave a small shrug that made her wince. Lilly wondered if the wound to her head hurt or the reason for all the lies.
‘I had to leave home,’ she said. ‘Start again.’
‘And that’s why you changed your name?’
Taslima nodded. ‘My husband is not a good person.’
Lilly gulped back her tears. Taslima was not the first woman to leave everything behind to escape domestic violence. And she wouldn’t be the last.
‘But why keep Rogon a secret?’ Lilly asked.
‘If my husband found us he’d take him,’ said Taslima.
‘You could get custody.’
Taslima shook her head against the pillow. ‘A piece of paper wouldn’t make any difference to a man like him. If he finds Rogon he’ll take him back home and I’ll never see him again.’
Lilly did understand. Wouldn’t she do anything to protect Sam? To keep him with her?
She stroked Taslima’s hand, the bandages rough to the touch.
‘Everyone’s getting hurt. You, Raffy, everyone. Sometimes I think I’m cursed.’
‘That’s nonsense,’ said Taslima. ‘I knew what I was doing was dangerous and the attack on Raffy had absolutely nothing to do with you.’
‘Sometimes it feels like I make matters worse.’
Taslima’s eyes flashed. ‘Without you I wouldn’t have a job and Raffy would have no one on his side. I’m proud that we tried to help Aasha.’
Lilly couldn’t help a smile. ‘We did, didn’t we? And she’s safe.’
‘And so are lots of other girls that the butcher and his nasty gang would have set their sights on,’ said Taslima. ‘Justice has prevailed.’
‘I’ll drink to that.’ Lilly held up the glass of water. ‘Justice for Aahsa and Yasmeen.’
‘Ah,’ said Taslima.
Lilly frowned. ‘What?’
‘They didn’t kill Yasmeen.’
Lilly slumped back in her chair, water sloshing over the rim of the glass onto her trousers.
‘Sorry,’ said Taslima. ‘Jalil had never heard of her.’
Lilly rubbed the water with her other hand, succeeding only in spreading the stain so she looked like she’d wet herself. She gave a weak smile.
‘Let’s not worry about that now.’
Lilly sat with Taslima until she fell asleep, then made her way back to A and E. It had always been a long shot that the PTF had been responsible for Yasmeen’s death, but she couldn’t hide her disappointment. Raffy’s case was back at square one.
She needed to find Jack; remind herself that his case at least was a complete success.
She searched for ten minutes until the nurse who had laughed at her hair informed her he’d gone up to visit Ryan.
Wasn’t that just like Jack? Any other copper would have gone straight back to the nick to celebrate. Instead, Jack was visiting the victim. She smiled. He was a good man.
When she arrived at Ryan’s room her smile faded.
Jack was by Ryan’s side, but another woman was in the room. She was a tall blonde. Slim. Her bleached hair was expertly blown dry, fake tan just the right side of golden. She put a hand on Jack’s and whispered something in his ear with glossy lips. He whispered something back, their intimacy palpable.
Lilly felt the room tilt. It had to be her. The woman in Jack’s secret texts. And the way they were together told Lilly all she needed to know.
She turned on her heel and fled.
Jack smiled at Mara.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said.
‘Don’t be,’ she sighed. ‘I always knew you were one of the good guys.’
He’d been surprised to find her at Ryan’s bedside, reading something to him while the ventilator kept time. He had watched for a while, listening to her voice.
At last she’d looked up and given a small surprised smile.
‘Is he any better?’ Jack asked.
‘The nurses say he might be able to hear.’ She didn’t answer his question.
Jack’s eyes filled with tears.
‘I got the men that did it,’ he said.
‘I knew you would.’
They sat next to one another in silence and watched Ryan’s lifeless face. Jack could smell Mara’s perfume. It was delicious.
‘I can’t believe I didn’t guess what was really happening to Ryan,’ she said.
‘How could you?’
‘The scruffy clothes, stealing things, always hungry,’ she said. ‘Classic symptoms of neglect.’
Jack shrugged. ‘Hindsight is a wonderful thing.’
Mara nodded but he knew she didn’t accept that. She had let the boy down and he knew exactly how much that hurt.
She moved very close to him. Close enough to kiss.
‘You want to call this thing between us off, don’t you?’ she whispered.
‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered back.
She left seconds later and he knew he wanted nothing more than to find Lilly.
‘I hear you’ve had a good result,’ said the chief.
Jack nodded into his mobile. He hadn’t been able to find Lilly and had stepped outside to call her when the chief caught him.
‘I suppose you could say that,’ said Jack.
‘I’m not saying your decision to send in a civilian was a good one.’
Jack thought about Taslima up on the roof, a burning building collapsing around her.
‘Not my finest idea,’ he said.
‘But a good result is what matters.’
Jack almost laughed. At least the chief was predictable.
‘Better get your backside down here, now,’ said the chief.
‘I just want to check Lilly’s OK,’ said Jack.
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Jack. Malik has to be charged in the next twenty minutes and I’m assuming you want to be the one to do it.’
Jack checked his watch. ‘I’m on my way.’
Lilly rummaged in her fridge and snapped off a cube of mint Aero. Her hands were shaking.
The woman—that woman—had knocked her completely off balance.
She swallowed the sweet coolness of the chocolate and took another cube.
She had been so tall. So blonde. So not like Lilly.
But wasn’t that the point?
Jack was sick of the real version. The messy, awkward, pregnant one. Instead he’d gone for an entirely different model, with smooth fingernails, painted ice pink.
Where Lilly liked to think she had depth, the other woman was like cinder toffee. Sweet yet brittle.
She popped the rest of the bar into her mouth and was hunting for another, when a dark shape shot past the kitchen window.
Lilly caught her breath. Had it just been a bird? Perhaps it was the little chaffinch that had been knocking on the glass? Not very likely this time of night. It was almost ten and, apart from their resident owl, who let out a comedy hoot as if on cue, the birds were asleep. She peered outside and berated herself.
The PTF had not killed Yasmeen. Both Malik and Jalil were safely in custody.
She was being silly. Dark or not, it was a bird.
Jack let himself into the custody suite.
He’d been sorry to miss Lilly but couldn’t wait to see the look on Malik’s face when he read out the charge.
Result.
‘If it ain’t Inpector Morse,’ the custody sergeant grinned.
Jack high-fived him. ‘Let’s get that bastard out of the cell.’ He rubbed his hands together.
The sarge reached around for his keys. ‘I’m going to enjoy this,’ he said. He clanked open the lock to cell ten and pulled the door.
Malik was performing squat lunges.
‘All right, sunshine, let’s be having you,’ said the sergeant.
Malik looked up, his face slick with sweat, and smirked. ‘Time to let me go, is it?’
Jack snorted. ‘Hardly.’
Malik’s face darkened.
‘We’ve found Aasha and she’s told us exactly what you’ve done.’ Jack knew he was smiling. ‘You’re bang to rights on this one.’
Malik nodded and got slowly to his feet. Jack had expected a bigger reaction. It was almost disappointing.
The huge man stretched his arms behind his head and rolled his head as if he were limbering down in the gym. He leaned over to the bed as if he were going to use it as ballast.
‘Don’t mess us about,’ said Jack.
Too late, he saw Malik’s hand graze against something silver. Too late, he saw Malik’s hand swinging towards him, crashing something hard and metal into his face.
Jack staggered backwards, his cheek split.
The sergeant flew past him, into the cell. He swung at Malik, trying to push him to the ground. Malik swung back, landing a sharp blow to the sergeant’s stomach.
Blood dripping down his face, Jack threw himself back into the cell and tackled Malik by his legs. The huge man lost his balance and toppled forwards, taking the sergeant with him. Then Jack pounced on his back, forcing his knees into Malik’s spine and the heel of his left hand into his neck so that his cheek was flat against the floor.
Malik grunted but Jack didn’t release the pressure. Instead he used his other hand to pull his right hand behind his back. He grasped for the metal object. It was a mobile phone.
‘What the hell?’ Jack shouted.
He held a tissue to his cheek. Blood was pissing down his face and it stung like hell.
‘You’ll need a stitch in that,’ said the sarge.
‘Never mind a fecking stitch,’ said Jack. ‘How did your man end up with this?’ He dangled the mobile phone between his thumb and forefinger.
‘I searched him myself,’ said the sarge. ‘He must have had it up his arse.’
‘Jesus.’ Jack dropped the phone on the desk. ‘Is that even possible?’
The sergeant chuckled. ‘You’d be surprised what they can get up there when they know they’re going inside.’
Jack picked up a biro and poked at the phone. He knew packing drugs was common, but a phone?
‘He had no idea I was going to arrest him so unless he’s in the habit of keeping a spare one up his jaxy, it didn’t get in here that way.’
Jack hooked it towards him with the nib and flipped it open. He pressed phone ID.
‘This is Bell’s phone,’ he said.
‘Bloody hell,’ said the sarge. ‘He went in to speak to Malik. He must have dropped it.’
‘Dropped it!’
Something about all this didn’t smell right. In fact, it stank like the station house toilets the morning after a party at the Bengali Tandoori. Coppers didn’t drop their phones around dangerous suspects, especially those for whom the clock was ticking.
And why had Bell been in the cell with Malik?
‘Why did he want to speak to him?’ Jack asked.
The sergeant shrugged. ‘He said he wanted to help you out.’
Now Jack could not only smell the bullshit, he could taste it.
Bell was desperate to see Raffy Khan go down and ride his coat-tails to promotion. He had been terrified that Malik would turn out to be Yasmeen’s killer and ruin his plans. But surely he wouldn’t deliberately jeopardise Jack’s investigation? Surely he wouldn’t put lives at risk?