Marrying Ameera (15 page)

The next day we returned to Uncle Rasheed’s for a family dinner. Papa was still there; I wasn’t sure of my feelings towards him any more. One moment I remembered how I loved him; in the next, anger rose up at what he’d done. He looked at me keenly, then said, ‘Are you all right?’ I couldn’t work him out. Why not ask me that before the wedding? Comments like that showed he loved me, yet he had married me against my will. He could slap me one moment and hug me the next. It was so confusing. I told him I was fine. He smiled benignly at Shaukat. I was married now; no doubt they all presumed I wasn’t a shy virgin any more and that was the most embarrassing thought of all.

Everyone ate together: another concession to my married state. Dadi jan laid her hand on my head as I sat beside her. Even Meena’s husband, Haroun, was there. I had never met him before, and when he smiled at Meena I could tell he was gentle and loved her. He wasn’t much older than Tariq.

I wished I had a gift for Meena and told her so. ‘You helped me so much yesterday. I don’t know what I would have done these last few weeks without you.’

She hugged me. ‘You’re my favourite cousin. Be happy. That would be the best gift you could give me.’

She said it as if I had a choice. If I didn’t love Tariq, could I be happy with Shaukat? I looked over at him, laughing with the older men. He fitted in well with them. Would he grow strict like Papa? A movement at the door caught my attention. It was Haider. He walked in slowly, his expression surly. My stomach clenched and I glanced at Shaukat. He was watching me, his eyebrows raised, the faintest of smiles teasing his mouth. I understood: there was nothing to worry about now—Shaukat was the eldest cousin and I was his wife. When I glanced back at Haider I saw what I hadn’t noticed at first. He had a black eye and made no sudden movements. He didn’t offer any congratulations.

After the meal, I went to my old room to finish packing. Zeba came with me. ‘I will miss you,’ she said.

I hugged her. ‘I’ll miss you too.’

‘Can I come for a holiday?’

I paused. I hadn’t let myself think too far ahead, but if this were a normal marriage, these were the things that would happen. What would Zeba be told when I disappeared? That I was an evil runaway bride to hurt Shaukat and the family so much? I stared at Zeba in dismay. I would dishonour Shaukat, dishonour all the men in the family.

‘Ameera? Can I?’ Zeba said.

‘Of course.’

She was satisfied and ran off. Asher came in then. He watched me zip up my backpack. ‘Shaukat is a lucky devil.’

I tried not to smile at his pseudo-adult talk. He walked further into the room until he faced me. I hadn’t realised before how tall he was: he was almost the same height as me. Then he cleared his throat and uttered this amazing speech: ‘Now I will be your brother, your happiness is my happiness, your sorrow, my sorrow. You only have to tell me if Shaukat hurts you and I will help you.’

I stared at him, wordless. I could imagine Riaz saying that, but why would Asher think it was necessary?

The wedding dragged on. It was a festival for the guests, but a funeral for me: the death of my dreams. Frank was my only hope to resurrect them.

The party at Uncle Iqbal’s and Aunt Bibi’s the next day was lavish. I wore an outfit not unlike the one I had on the night I first saw Aunt Bibi and Uncle Iqbal: churidar pyjama, high strappy shoes. The qameez had a bodice that sparkled with pearls and zircon and was like a dress with a full skirt that would have flared if I twirled. Only Shaukat now would see me twirl.

I was slightly in awe of Shaukat’s public reserve. Though he said we were a match, I couldn’t see what we had in common except genes and looks. I yearned for Tariq’s warmth, his humour, the stories we shared, the music. I doubted Shaukat would approve of Junoon, and
what about David D’Or and the Idan Raichel Project? Papa would have had a fit if he knew I listened to Israeli music, but Tariq believed music should transcend cultural differences. Papa didn’t like any modern music: he said it put too much emphasis on love and distracted people from their faith. Like Papa, Shaukat probably admired traditional raag singing and sitar playing.

Papa was tender towards me at the party. He could afford to be: I had done what he wanted. ‘I’ll be leaving tomorrow, beti,’ he said, then paused. ‘There is some sacrifice in marriage, especially at first, but I know you will be safe now.’

What was I to say to that? Dadi jan had said it took a year for her to love my grandfather. Would that happen to me? But if all went to plan I wouldn’t be here in a year. Shaukat and I would stay with Aunt Bibi for a while and then Frank would come for me. I tried not to think about what would happen then; instead, I concentrated on how what Papa had done wasn’t right. Even Shaukat had been shocked when I told him—surely he’d understand why I had to leave. The word ‘dishonour’ reared its terrifying head again, but I pushed it into the attic of my mind and locked the door. If I thought too much about it I’d be lost. I had never entirely understood Papa’s preoccupation with honour and shame and how the balance worked. How could my choices possibly affect a whole family of strong and independent men like Papa, my uncles and Shaukat? But I felt the flutter of fear all the same. I had witnessed Papa’s anger whenever he thought his wishes may be flouted.

Be strong, Frank had said. But he knew nothing of my family. Tariq had wanted me in Australia, but would he still want me at the expense of my family’s shame? He understood honour and he wasn’t even Pushtun. But would he put it above love for others as Papa did?

I had plenty of time to think, sitting on yet another gorgeous couch next to Shaukat in Aunt Bibi’s garden. This was the day the whole community was invited to congratulate us. My thoughts were interrupted by a girl’s voice. I looked up: it was Gulshan from the bus.

‘I’m so happy to see you,’ she said. ‘Are you well?’

I nodded.

‘I am glad—that day on the bus I was worried. Your cousin looked so…severe.’ Then she glanced at Shaukat. ‘You must be very happy.’

I could tell she was curious: why had I been on the bus when I had a marriage to look forward to? Did she remember me saying I was going home?

‘So it worked for the best?’ she went on.

‘Yes, thank you.’ I didn’t want Shaukat hearing this. She took the hint and moved towards the food tables.

A young man approached to give us sweets. They were in bags made from old exercise books. I glanced up quickly; yes, it was the young man from the gold shop. He didn’t even look my way, nothing to arouse suspicion. Did he know I wanted to run away? Anyone who looked at Shaukat would never suspect it. I opened my bag—there was a folded note inside. I didn’t dare wait till later to read it for the sweets would be taken from us and given away. My dupatta acted as a screen and I opened the note.

Dictated for Mr Frank: Coming within three days to groom’s home. Eat this note, it is rice paper, sorry about the ink.

I grinned at the humour the scribe had managed to capture. It sounded like Frank. I pulled out a piece of sweet with the paper underneath and took a bite.

‘Hungry, Ameera?’ Shaukat leaned closer.

For one horrified moment I thought he wanted a bite too; he’d feel the note in his mouth. I opened the paper bag while I forced myself to hold his gaze. ‘Would you like some?’

He settled back against the couch and smiled. ‘I’m all sweeted out.’

I swallowed the barfi and the note. I felt dizzy. It was going to happen: Frank was coming. Soon, before Shaukat got too attached. Then I chided myself for thinking of Shaukat’s welfare. Thoughts like that would only make it harder.

That night there were too many goodbyes from relatives and friends of the family whose names I would never remember. Some of Shaukat’s friends had even come from London for the walima. Shaukat told me I’d learn all the names over the years. ‘There will be enough weddings and funerals, don’t worry.’

In our room I caught Shaukat’s gaze following me as I emerged from the ensuite where I’d got changed. The look in his eyes worried me. I wondered how long I
could hold him to his promise to wait. How long did he think it would take? A month? A week? A few nights?

In the morning I was delivered a bitter blow.

At breakfast, Aunt Bibi floated around the dining table. Two of her sons and their wives lived in the house; Fozia and her husband were visiting. Shaukat and I were still the guests of honour. A servant brought in eggs and toast and set them near me. I wasn’t used to servants and, to be on the safe side, I murmured ‘thank you’ every time something was put in front of me.

‘Why can’t you stay a few more days, Shaukat dearest?’ Aunt Bibi said. ‘Ameera must be exhausted. You will be so busy at the clinic, and we need the sound of little feet in this house again.’

My hand froze over my knife. The talk of leaving even overshadowed Aunt Bibi’s reference to babies. I had been expecting a quiet day of cleaning up.

Shaukat’s glance at his mother barely concealed his exasperation. ‘We need to go, Mother. I’ve been here a week and I have a surprise for Ameera. Don’t worry, we’ll be back in a few weeks.’

Aunt Bibi pouted as though time without Shaukat would be a deprivation, but her next words dispelled that idea. ‘Ameera and I have so much to do together, don’t we, darling?’

She came behind my chair and squeezed me. It felt as though I’d married her, not Shaukat. If she knew the appalling thing I was planning, she wouldn’t love me at all.

Shaukat mistook my silence. ‘She’s okay, really,’ he said to me, teasing, ‘you just have to pace yourself.’ He
grinned and Aunt Bibi smacked him playfully over the head. In that instant I wished he could have been horrible like Haider.

‘Please don’t go today,’ Aunt Bibi crooned.

Involuntarily I made a sound. ‘No.’

‘See?’ Aunt Bibi said. ‘Ameera doesn’t want to leave either. Wait for a few days.’

Shaukat frowned, trying to read my face.

‘Could we stay longer…’ I paused, then added his name for the first time, ‘Shaukat?’

Aunt Bibi beamed, but Shaukat’s frown deepened. ‘It’s not possible. I have something planned.’

‘A surprise?’ Aunt Bibi was coy. That should have been my line, but nobody noticed.

Shaukat’s face cleared. ‘I’ll tell you about it later, Mother. But we’re leaving today.’

Aunt Bibi clicked her tongue, but I could see she wasn’t really upset with him; it was all a game. I couldn’t join in the fun: my mind was racing. I’d have to let Frank know.

‘What time are we going?’ I asked.

‘After breakfast.’

I stared at him. ‘So soon?’

He got up from the table. ‘I want to be there before nightfall.’

Frank wouldn’t be able to come in time; I knew it as surely as I knew the wind would be cold outside.

Back in our room, Shaukat tackled me about my response. ‘Why so glum? We’re going to my home, temporary as it is, but nothing will change if that’s what’s bothering you.’

‘No,’ I said, and the next words slipped out without thinking: ‘I trust you.’ I wondered if that was true or just a hope.

He studied my face. ‘That’s a good start.’ I wasn’t sure if he was being sarcastic. ‘Please pack your things.’

I hadn’t thought about going to Shaukat’s home and had no idea how to pack all my new things so quickly. I let Aunt Bibi organise it for me. She had a present for me—a travelling jewellery box made of maroon leather.

‘You can leave most of your gold in Iqbal’s safe,’ she said, ‘but you’ll want to take some pieces to show you’re married.’

Shaukat strode out to see to the car and Fozia packed his clothes for him. ‘You never know when you’ll have a dinner with his friends—he has so many,’ she said.

Within two hours we were in Shaukat’s Prado, speeding across the border of Azad Kashmir into the North West Frontier Province. I hadn’t had a chance to text Frank properly, just a few quick words when I was in the bathroom: leaving 2day 4 oghi. hope u can cum.

Later I would let him know where we were.

Shaukat’s house was in the shadow of the tribal area called Khala Dhaka. To get there we had to cross mountains and rivers, including the Jhelum of Hir and Ranjha fame. At the highest part there was snow on the side of the road and Shaukat stopped the car so I could touch it when he realised I’d never seen snow before. I was struck by its brittleness, like dead water. I didn’t linger long—I could see he was itching to keep driving. At least it was an easier ride in the Prado than in Uncle Rasheed’s car, even if Shaukat’s driving was little better. He leaned on the horn before blind corners and took incredible risks with passing trucks, but we reached the town of Mansehra alive.

He took me a longer way, so I could see ‘the sights’. ‘There’s the Indus River. From now on we are travelling the Karakoram Highway, the ancient trade route from China.’ I wondered at the pride in his voice. ‘There is little medical help in this area,’ he explained. ‘What hospitals there were fell with the earthquake. Only one built by an aid agency withstood the shock.’

We arrived at the house late in the afternoon. Shaukat tooted once and the gate mysteriously opened. He drove in and a man with an assault rifle shut the gate. Servants were lined up Jane Austen style by the time we reached the front door. One man hurried to help with the cases.

Shaukat introduced them. ‘Mrs Rahmet looks after the house for me. Aslam,’ the man now carrying both cases on his head, ‘is the chowkidar and gardener. He’ll go to the shops for you too. Ibrahim is my driver—he’ll drive you where you need to go. I trust him completely.’

Ibrahim hadn’t smiled at me like the others; he was closer to my age. He kept his gaze lowered but I didn’t miss the flush of pride at Shaukat’s words.

Shaukat glanced at the man with the gun who was now sitting on a stool near the gate. ‘That is Risaq Abdullah—he is our security guard.’

‘Is that necessary?’ I asked. I imagined Frank trying to get past the man and his rifle.

Shaukat made a face. ‘Ever since the earthquake, the government has put security guards on clinics and nongovernment organisations. A precaution against terrorist activity, imagined or not.’

‘Daktar Sahib!’ A young man hurried along a walkway at the side of the house. ‘Mubarek ho. Congratulations.’ He nodded at me. ‘Please be coming to the clinic, Sahib. It is an emergency we cannot handle.’

Shaukat turned to me. ‘Settle in as best you can. Mrs Rahmet will show you your room, and she’ll cook dinner. I won’t be long.’

I thought how it would always be like this married to a doctor: he would always be rushing off to help someone.

Mrs Rahmet smilingly gestured me into the house. It was large and airy with marble stairs leading to rooms on a second floor. The lounge room had brown leather couches and a huge Kashmiri rug, its silk thread shining in the lamplight. From the family business, no doubt. Shaukat’s office was downstairs. Aslam deposited Shaukat’s suitcase there. I glanced inside and saw a bed and my spirits lifted. Aslam carried my suitcase up to my room. It had a view of the mountains. They were closer than I’d thought. I went to the window. There was a fort not far away; I could make out tiny figures like toy soldiers and flags fluttering against the glow of dusk.

Mrs Rahmet began unpacking my things and I stopped her. ‘You are busy enough,’ I said in Urdu.

Her smile disappeared. ‘Daktar Sahib said I was to look after you,’ she offered.

‘We can do it tomorrow. I’m tired now.’

This she understood and the smile returned. As soon as she was gone, I took out the phone and texted Frank: in oghi at rahman clinic near mansehra.

I hoped it was enough. I didn’t know how far we were from Mansehra, maybe thirty kilometres. I pressed the send button but nothing happened. The error sign came up and I checked my coverage. None. I raced down the stairs and into the garden. The security guard stood up as I emerged. I backed away from him and out of sight around the side of the house. I tried again but still no success.

‘Memsahib?’ At first I didn’t realise the guard was talking to me. ‘Kya bat hai? Is there a problem?’

I stuffed the phone into my pocket and turned to face
him. His features were severe. I didn’t doubt his loyalty to Shaukat but would that extend to me? His job would involve keeping me safe by Shaukat’s terms, not letting me do what I wanted.

‘No problem, thank you.’ I walked past him into the house.

Mrs Rahmet met me at the door. ‘Just ask me, Memsahib,’ she said. ‘Whatever you need, I am getting it for you.’

‘Thank you.’

I retreated to my room. A housekeeper, a driver to take me everywhere—no driving lessons for me, I could tell—a security guard to watch my every move. It was like being in gaol. Could I risk the phone in Shaukat’s office? Uncle Rasheed’s conference speaker had put me off land lines. What if it rang through to the clinic? Mrs Rahmet would hear every word or at least know I’d gone in there. She would tell Shaukat. Besides, a call from a land line was probably traceable. Frank had said to only use his phone. I walked up and down in front of my window. How would I ring Frank? If I didn’t contact him, he’d think I had fallen for the groom.

That night Shaukat delivered his surprise. He had also delivered a difficult baby and he was tired. He didn’t come in until 9 p.m. and that was when we ate. Mrs Rahmet had left the curry on the stove for me to dish up.

When we sat down to the food, I said in conversation, ‘You like babies.’

‘Yes. Unfortunately my first wife was too unwell…there were miscarriages…’ His voice trailed off and I felt like kicking myself. ‘I did my paediatrics in London,’ he went on. ‘Too many babies die here and they don’t need to. Every little bit helps.’

He took more curry and rice and picked up his fork in his right hand. Mrs Rahmet had put knives as well as forks on the table; I wondered if that was for me. When he’d finished, he wiped his mouth on his serviette and leaned back in his chair.

‘I’m taking you on a trip. I thought you’d like a honeymoon.’

I stared at him. ‘That’s not a Pakistani custom.’

‘But it’s a Western one. I thought it would make you feel more…at home.’

‘At home’ weren’t the right words. Actually a honeymoon terrified me: concentrated time with him and one thing on his mind? No, thanks.

‘We will go by train to Karachi so you can see all of Pakistan, and the beach.’ He paused to let that sink in. ‘I know you like the beach, and when we arrive back we have been invited to a party at Mansehra.’ Then he added more quietly, ‘Our first together.’

He cocked one eyebrow at me and I realised I hadn’t thanked him. He was waiting for a flicker of excitement perhaps, but I was appalled. None of this was panning out as I’d expected. Surely I needed to stay in one spot for Frank to find me?

Shaukat carried on. ‘I have booked our own berth on the Tezgam. We can get to know each other more.’

Did he think I was such a hopeless case that it would
take two thousand kilometres to get to know each other? But then I remembered he would have booked this before the wedding and I felt a begrudging respect for someone who’d plan an activity just because he thought I’d like it.

‘You don’t seem glad.’ His tone was dry.

‘Thank you, that will be good.’

But I didn’t fool him. How long would he keep persevering with a bride who wanted nothing to do with him?

He came up the stairs with me to my bedroom. ‘I had better sleep in here tonight or there will be talk.’

In panic I looked around the room and saw that the couch was actually a single bed. ‘Of course,’ I said matter- of-factly, but I couldn’t staunch my rising panic. I felt like a frog in a pot of water that was being heated so gradually I wouldn’t know when it was too late to jump out.

I dreamed of Tariq. We were fleeing on foot from Oghi. He held my hand so we wouldn’t be parted. Shaukat, Haider and Papa were on horses chasing us. We reached the river. We could hardly breathe we were so tired but we managed to swim across. It was so wide and cold that all I could do on the other side was shiver. Tariq lifted me and ran with me in his arms, but the track was up the mountain and he couldn’t run fast enough. A white stallion reared in front of us; I couldn’t see its rider. Tariq dodged to the left, but Papa was there. Behind us was Haider, holding an assault rifle.

Tariq turned to face the rider on the white horse. ‘This is my true bride—she gave her heart to me and you stole her. Let her go.’

‘No!’ It was Haider who shouted. I saw the rage contort his face and he fired the gun.

We were falling down the mountain. Tariq tried to grab me. I reached for him, but I couldn’t catch his hand. ‘Tariq!’

I snapped awake. Shaukat was sitting on my bed, his brow furrowed in concern. ‘Ameera.’ He took my hand. ‘It was just a dream.’

I sat up, my chest still pounding. ‘A nightmare.’ I swallowed.

‘It must have been. Do you have them often?’

I shook my head. ‘I’m sorry I woke you up.’

‘I was already awake.’ He still hadn’t smiled.

My eyes were drawn to the window. It was early morning; I could see the silhouette of the fort against the lightening horizon.

‘Ameera?’

I pulled my gaze back to him.

‘Who is Tariq?’

The words were even but I could imagine a detonator on every one.

My breath came in fits. ‘If Haider said anything to you, it wasn’t true.’

Shaukat pushed himself up from the bed and his voice rose as well. ‘I didn’t give Haider time to tell me anything, and I wouldn’t have listened if he had.’

‘Then where did you hear that name?’ Fear made me whisper.

Shaukat watched me for a moment then sat on the bed again and placed his arms either side of me. ‘From your own lips. You said his name in your sleep.’ He leaned back and folded his arms. ‘Now you had better tell me who he is. There can be no secrets if this marriage is to work.’

He looked grim and I nibbled my bottom lip. Was he threatening me? What if I told him and he beat me like Haider had done? I had betrayed myself with my own mouth, how stupid was that?

‘You said you trusted me,’ he prompted.

I was silent.

‘Do you respect me at least?’

That I could nod to.

He waited, his head on one side; he knew I would speak eventually. That familiar feeling of impotence was so debilitating. I heard Frank’s voice in my head: go along with it, easier to get you out.

‘Tariq is my brother’s friend and my best friend’s brother.’

‘And? A girl doesn’t call a man’s name in her sleep because he is her brother’s friend.’

There was steel between Shaukat’s words and I felt a hot prickle behind my eyes.

‘He…I hoped to marry him.’

I shut my eyes. I felt Shaukat stand up; heard him walk across to the window. I checked what he was doing. He had his back to me, leaning on the windowsill.

‘So, it all makes sense at last,’ he said. ‘The early wedding, your reticence. I presume your father found out you had a relationship?’

I didn’t like his tone. I sat up straighter. ‘No, there was no relationship. I was at a function and someone told Papa a lie about my behaviour. He wouldn’t believe me.’

‘Instead he deceived me.’

Shaukat’s voice rose on the ‘me’ and I gulped down a sob. I could sense his anger, even if he was suppressing it. Haider would have hit me by now. Shaukat swung around and faced me. I shrank into the pillows and pulled the bed-clothes around me. He strode over and yanked them back, then he hesitated. For an instant, I saw horror flash across his face. He slumped onto the bed at my feet.

‘You don’t have to look so terrified. I will not beat you. What good will it serve? No, I am just sorry for us both. Sorry you had to be tormented. I’ve lived in England; I understand how easy it is to meet the opposite sex in a Western environment and how alien this must seem to you. And me? It just makes my job harder.’

I didn’t know what he meant by that. Did he mean what a challenge I’d be?

He sat quietly rubbing the bridge of his nose, then turned to me suddenly. ‘If, as you say, there is no relationship, there is nothing to hold you. You will forget this young man. I presume he is younger than me?’

‘Much. I didn’t realise you’d be so old.’

I could have clapped my hand over my mouth, but Shaukat laughed. There had been an element of hysteria in the room but now the atmosphere shimmered and changed.

‘I am only forty-one—I’m in my prime,’ he said. Then he went on: ‘I mean this, Ameera. What you feel for
this boy will die, for now you are in a real relationship—with me. It will flourish because you will feed it.’

Was that an order?

‘You will grow to love me because I will be the one who is meeting your needs.’ His eyes were bright, his voice had risen again. ‘It may take a while but it will happen. The day will come when I am the only man you will want to see come through that door.’ He indicated the bedroom door.

I stared at him, astounded.

Then he said more quietly, ‘You mentioned Haider. What does he know about it?’

‘Nothing. I think he found Tariq’s name in my phone. He said if I contacted him, he’d kill him as well as me.’

‘Haider.’ Shaukat said his name the same way Meena had that first day. ‘There is nothing else? No other secrets I need to be armed with in order to protect the family honour?’

‘No.’ My voice was small; was he making fun of me now?

He moved closer and leaned over me. ‘Now, my wife, we will go on a trip to Karachi and have a good time.’

It sounded like a command, as though he could order my heart. There was no talk of the marriage being illegal, of the possibility of annulment, and I suddenly understood why: he wanted the marriage. How different it would have been if I’d told him I wasn’t a virgin. He would have packed me straight back to Papa then. But I couldn’t have uttered that lie, not even to save my life.

Now Shaukat knew everything about me, except one thing: I was planning to leave him.