She had to keep it under control, had to sort out Haqib and then she could go back and talk to them about Khalid. That old bastard had told them she’d done it to stop Khal returning to his family. Surely they wouldn’t believe that. She was a police officer. Niggling at the back of her mind was the fact that she hadn’t reported Khal missing. That would play against her big time. However, she’d known he was conflicted. Known he was anguished by the pressure from his family. That was why she hadn’t told him she was pregnant.
Turning into BRI, she steered clear of the ambulances, pulled her hoodie up over her hair and the collar of her leather jacket over her lower face. Keeping an eye out for any officers accompanying those with drink- or drug-related injuries, she skirted the Accident and Emergency Department and entered the hospital. Despite it being early in the day, the corridors were bustling with patients, visitors and staff. Hopefully, she’d blend in.
Haqib, according to Charlie, was on Ward Two and Nikki made her way there as quickly as possible. She couldn’t blame Charlie for contacting her instead of Haqib’s mum. Anika had always been useless in an emergency. Nikki had lost count of the times she’d had to break off from work in order to sort out something to do with Anika’s kids – broken arms, split heads. Anika had deferred responsibility to her older sister and Nikki had, as usual, taken it on. She owed Anika a lot. It was because of Anika and her mum’s childcare that she’d been able to focus on her work. Sometimes though, an aching tiredness suffused her body. Sometimes, all she wanted was to curl up in her huge double bed, wrap the duvet around her and block out everything for a week. But she also realised that that was a luxury she couldn’t afford. If she stopped for a minute, let her control slip for even a nanosecond, then perhaps she wouldn’t be able to bring herself back from the brink.
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
