few minutes later, I heard the bedroom door close. I stripped down to my shirt and boxer shorts and pulled a rug and a few pillows over me and tried to sleep. At first I couldn’t. What on earth was this woman doing in my house? She would be nothing but trouble to me, I felt certain.
She was good-looking, though, I thought sleepily. For a while I considered going into my bedroom and getting into my bed and curling up beside her. It would be very cosy in there, warmer than on this bloody sofa, with its springs sticking into me and draughts swirling in through the badly fitted windows. Then I thought that, if I did that, I might never get rid of the girl. I might be stuck with her. I couldn’t quite understand how little control I seemed to have over my own life. There was something wrong here, but I was too tired to work it out. I fell asleep.
At four in the morning I awoke as suddenly as if someone had shaken me by the shoulder. This had happened to me before, but not since I left the army. Some sixth sense would warn me that something was about to happen and my instinct was nearly always right. Now I sat up on the sofa, my brain working furiously.
Why was the girl here? There were two possibilities. Eitherthe whole thing was a set-up: in which case Khan and his two thugs would be here any minute. She was here to make sure I stayed in one place long enough for them to be able to deal with me. Or. Or it wasn’t a set-up and she had left Khan because he had kidnapped her and had plans for her that she didn’t like. In which case Khan and his thugs would come to get her back. My flat might not be the most obvious place to look, given Adeena’s earlier distaste for my company, but they would get round to it soon enough, I was sure.
The only miracle was that I hadn’t woken up to find a gun at my head.
If all three of them came – Mr Khan, Amir and Kevin – things might get very nasty very quickly. I still had Kevin’s gun and I was sure they would bear this in mind and would come armed accordingly. The idea of taking part in a gun battle in Camden did not appeal to me.
I was wide awake now. I dressed, pulled aside the curtains, and looked out. There was still no sign of the enemy. That didn’t mean there wouldn’t be. Warning signals were going off somewhere deep inside my brain. I had to move. I had to get away from here. Was I being paranoid again? I didn’t think so.
What about the girl? I couldn’t just leave her here. Or could I? For a moment I thought that maybe I could, that she wasn’t my problem. Why should I take responsibility for her, just because I had married her? But I knew, even as I had these thoughts, that I wasn’t simply going to abandon her. I had sunk fairly low in my own estimation, but not that low: not yet. Going home to my parents’ house didn’t seem like a good idea. Could I ring Bernie and ask whether he could loan me a hideaway? Not tempting: and besides, he never didfavours for anyone, and certainly not for me. Nor would he keep his mouth shut. Then an idea occurred to me.
I knocked on the door of my bedroom. A sleepy voice answered after a moment, at first in slurred words I could not make out, but which were not English. Then, ‘Who is it? What do you want? Is it the hour for prayer?’
‘No. It might be. I don’t know. It’s quarter to five. Adeena, you must get dressed. We must go. Aseeb will find us here. I know he will.’
‘I will come.’
A few minutes later Adeena came out of the bedroom. She was dressed in her blue wedding suit, but still looked half asleep.
‘I must pray,’ she announced. ‘I will do it in your other room. There is light beginning in the east of the sky.’
‘There is no time to pray,’ I said. ‘We must go quickly.’
‘There is always time to pray,’ said Adeena. ‘Today of all days I must ask God for guidance and help. I do not pray every day, as I should. But this morning I must.’
I felt her warmth as she brushed past me.
She was good-looking, though, I thought sleepily. For a while I considered going into my bedroom and getting into my bed and curling up beside her. It would be very cosy in there, warmer than on this bloody sofa, with its springs sticking into me and draughts swirling in through the badly fitted windows. Then I thought that, if I did that, I might never get rid of the girl. I might be stuck with her. I couldn’t quite understand how little control I seemed to have over my own life. There was something wrong here, but I was too tired to work it out. I fell asleep.
At four in the morning I awoke as suddenly as if someone had shaken me by the shoulder. This had happened to me before, but not since I left the army. Some sixth sense would warn me that something was about to happen and my instinct was nearly always right. Now I sat up on the sofa, my brain working furiously.
Why was the girl here? There were two possibilities. Eitherthe whole thing was a set-up: in which case Khan and his two thugs would be here any minute. She was here to make sure I stayed in one place long enough for them to be able to deal with me. Or. Or it wasn’t a set-up and she had left Khan because he had kidnapped her and had plans for her that she didn’t like. In which case Khan and his thugs would come to get her back. My flat might not be the most obvious place to look, given Adeena’s earlier distaste for my company, but they would get round to it soon enough, I was sure.
The only miracle was that I hadn’t woken up to find a gun at my head.
If all three of them came – Mr Khan, Amir and Kevin – things might get very nasty very quickly. I still had Kevin’s gun and I was sure they would bear this in mind and would come armed accordingly. The idea of taking part in a gun battle in Camden did not appeal to me.
I was wide awake now. I dressed, pulled aside the curtains, and looked out. There was still no sign of the enemy. That didn’t mean there wouldn’t be. Warning signals were going off somewhere deep inside my brain. I had to move. I had to get away from here. Was I being paranoid again? I didn’t think so.
What about the girl? I couldn’t just leave her here. Or could I? For a moment I thought that maybe I could, that she wasn’t my problem. Why should I take responsibility for her, just because I had married her? But I knew, even as I had these thoughts, that I wasn’t simply going to abandon her. I had sunk fairly low in my own estimation, but not that low: not yet. Going home to my parents’ house didn’t seem like a good idea. Could I ring Bernie and ask whether he could loan me a hideaway? Not tempting: and besides, he never didfavours for anyone, and certainly not for me. Nor would he keep his mouth shut. Then an idea occurred to me.
I knocked on the door of my bedroom. A sleepy voice answered after a moment, at first in slurred words I could not make out, but which were not English. Then, ‘Who is it? What do you want? Is it the hour for prayer?’
‘No. It might be. I don’t know. It’s quarter to five. Adeena, you must get dressed. We must go. Aseeb will find us here. I know he will.’
‘I will come.’
A few minutes later Adeena came out of the bedroom. She was dressed in her blue wedding suit, but still looked half asleep.
‘I must pray,’ she announced. ‘I will do it in your other room. There is light beginning in the east of the sky.’
‘There is no time to pray,’ I said. ‘We must go quickly.’
‘There is always time to pray,’ said Adeena. ‘Today of all days I must ask God for guidance and help. I do not pray every day, as I should. But this morning I must.’
I felt her warmth as she brushed past me.
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