Last Request. Liz Mistry
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To survive, like a well-trained soldier, she compartmentalised things. Put Khal in his box – the big dusky grey one towards the back of her mind. That one was slightly in front of the ridged black one with the lock and hasp that contained her dad, but behind the rainbow-coloured one that stood, lid ajar, with all her family stuff spilling out, its colourful entrails intertwining in a buzz of love and exasperation and responsibility.
She entered the ward, giving Haqib’s name and identifying herself feloniously as his mother to the busy nurse on the desk. As she moved towards the bed where Haqib lay, all his usual bravado dissipated, face pale and right arm elevated, Charlie got up to meet her. Her beautiful Charlie. Her heart contracted. So like her father, her skin a lighter brown than her own, her eyes the exact same shade as Khal’s, more than a touch of her mother’s drive but tempered with Khal’s patience and ability to reason. She’d protected Charlie from the moment she was conceived, but nothing could protect her from the fallout surrounding the discovery of her father’s remains. How could it? Charlie thought he’d deserted them before she was born and, in self-preservation, Nikki had pretended not to have known him well – a one-night stand. For nearly fifteen years she’d deprived her eldest child of being acquainted with the essence of her dad. His humour, his loyalty, his care and joy. How could she ever square this with Charlie? Feeling the unwelcome tickle at the back of her eyes, Nikki swallowed hard and smiled. ‘You all right, Charlie?’
‘FFS mum, what’s with all the cloak and dagger stuff? “Take your battery out, don’t phone me back” and all that shit?’
Nikki shrugged. ‘Less of the “shit”, Charlie.’
Charlie, lips pursed, hand on hip, harrumphed. ‘Like you don’t swear.’
‘Do as I say, not as I do.’ Nikki mimicked her mum’s words making Charlie grin.
‘Now you’re here I can go get a drink or summat, yeah? This bloody radio station is doing my head in.’
Nikki became aware of the muted sounds of some dated music drifting from the next bed. ‘Don’t be so mean, Charlie. The radio’s keeping the old bloke company.’
With an exaggerated sigh, Charlie plopped herself on the side of Haqib’s bed eliciting a ‘watch my bloody hand, Charl,’ from her cousin.
‘… Now, here on Bradford Radio Royal we have a news update. It seems that the skeletonised remains found in the Odeon car …’
Nikki held her breath. Now, she too wished the old man would switch off the damn radio. Would they release Khal’s name – or worse still link it to her? She glanced at Charlie and wondered if she should take the time to tell her what was going on now.
‘The police have not released a name, although the victim has been identified …’
Thank God for that! It would take far too long to explain everything to Charlie, and she couldn’t just rush off, leaving her daughter to process everything on her own. No, they hadn’t released a name so she’d sit her daughter down later, just the two of them, and take the time to make her understand. Why the hell was there always so much drama in her life? Bloody Haqib and his eye on making a fast buck. Idiot!
She turned her attention to her nephew. His pupils were dilated and his bandaged hand was held at an angle as if he didn’t want to have to look at it. Nikki would have hugged him, but suspected that would make the tears shimmering in his eyes start. This had all the hallmarks of a Franco hit on it. He was a heartless thug and he had it in for the Parekh family. Yet another reason that Nikki wanted to keep her sister out of the picture for now. Not that she’d be able to keep it from her for long. Anika would need to be told about Haqib’s stupidity and Franco’s part in it. But she’d deal with that when she had to. Instead, she hardened her tone. ‘For God’s sake, what the hell did you not understand last week when I told you to steer clear of Franco and Deano? You really are a stupid little turd, you know that?’
‘Mum!’ Charlie’s tone was sharp.
Haqib’s lower lip trembled and he looked down at the bed sheets. Sighing, Nikki plonked herself down on the seat Charlie had vacated. He was just a kid trying to grow up too damn fast. She blamed the useless piece of shit he called his dad. Yousaf only showed up for the odd booty call and Anika had spent sixteen years kidding herself that he was going to leave his wife to settle down with her. He was the worst sort of role model – all sexist shit and bravado. Nikki couldn’t stand him. Nikki’s kids might have different dads, but Marcus was active in his kids’ lives and he treated Charlie as if she was his own. Okay, so recently Marcus had been getting a bit clingy, a bit too keen on making their arrangement more permanent. That was something to think about another day. Besides, how the hell could she explain about Khal to him? For now, she had Haqib to sort out. ‘What happened?’
Voice shaking, Haqib outlined how he’d been grabbed from a street near school, bundled into Franco’s car and transported to the back alley. As he spoke, Nikki’s heart sank. The school cameras didn’t reach as far as there. Despite their frequent moaning about drugs being sold nearby, the police hadn’t acted on advice to extend their camera footage to cover the streets adjacent to the school. As a result, rather than deal right outside the school, the dealers hung about at the end of the road where they weren’t recorded. So, Haqib’s abduction wouldn’t be recorded and as for the back alley – again no CCTV footage.
‘It weren’t Deano, though. He weren’t there. Just Franco and two of his men.’
Deano might not have been there, but he was the one who’d brought Franco and his little shitbags back into their lives. He’d pay for that – she’d make sure of it. ‘You been given pain relief?’
He nodded once.
‘It working?’
Again, the nod. Nikki turned to Charlie. ‘What are the doctors saying? Can they re-attach?’
‘Yeah, if you sign the consent, they’ll take him up in a bit.’
‘Right, I’ll do that on my way out. You stay with him for now, Charlie.’ She leaned over and ruffled her daughter’s hair, earning herself a grunt. ‘Once he’s in surgery phone Auntie Anika … on second thoughts, phone Aji-ma and let her know what’s happened.’ Having her mum break the news to Anika would make things easier in the long run.
‘What d’ya mean? Are you not staying?
‘No, I’ve got something to do. Get Auntie Anika to come over and get Ajima to watch the other kids.’
She should really go back home and face the music. The longer she left it, the worse things would be and she and DS Springer had history. However, right now, she wanted to find Franco. Nobody did that to one of her own and got away with it. Keen to put distance between the BRI and herself before Sajid got wind of where she was, Nikki got to her feet. ‘Right, I’ll be in touch when I can.’
About to leave, Nikki saw a familiar figure strutting down the ward. And she turned to her daughter, her tone accusing. ‘You called Marcus?’
Charlie rolled her eyes. ‘Duh, ’course I did. You were acting all weird, so I called Marcus. Chillax.’
Chillax? Nikki wanted nothing more than to barge past Marcus, avoid a repeat of last night’s argument. As he approached, she studied his face. Sculpted cheek bones, lashes to die for and a grin that many women, and a lot of men, swooned over. But Nikki wasn’t observing his prettiness, she was more concerned about whether he knew about Khalid. He loped down the ward, all loose-limbed ease, and dropped a kiss on her lips before she could protest. Seemed that, so far, Marcus was out of the loop which meant she really needed to escape before Saj had the bright idea of involving him.
‘Gotta go, Marcus. Work. Glad you’re here. Keep an eye on these two, yeah?’ And with Charlie’s indignant ‘Muuuum!’ ringing in her ears, she was off down the ward, intent on chasing up Deano and Franco. Living family stuff trumps decease husbands every day of the week. Well, at least that’s