Chapter 41
41
I’m lying in a bed. It feels softer than my own. I open my eyes. A crack in the curtains lends the room enough light for me to distinguish the detail. Books, make-up, joss sticks, posters of Shawn Mendes.
I’m in Irfan’s house. This room must belong to his eldest daughter. Farah went to a Mendes concert with her last year. I glance at the digital clock on the small pine table by my side. It is already ten o’clock.
I stare at the ceiling. It’s coming back to me now. Lenny leaving me in the backyard as I tried to stop crying. Farah appearing. Her arms around me. Her and Irfan bundling me into their car. A cup of tea before bed. Me being grateful for no questions. I look under the covers. Farah lent me one of Irfan’s shirts.
Someone knocks at the door and I sit up. Farah comes in. I shuffle up into a sitting position and another mug of tea finds its way into my hands.
‘How do you feel?’ she says.
‘I’m okay. Sorry about last night. I must have had too much to drink. I’ll go when I’ve finished this and?—’
‘No,’ she says firmly. ‘You relax here for as long as you like. If you want anything to eat just let me know. I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.’ She turns to go.
I reach out my hand and tug on the bottom hem of her blouse. I recall doing that to Mum when she used to leave my room at night. I’d always beg for just one more story.
She sits on the bed.
‘Can you ever forgive me?’ I say. ‘Last night – Casey, Lenny, it’s made me realise – I’m so sorry if I’ve upset you.’
‘I’m sorry for not realising just how hard it hit you – about Lenny and Beatrix. While I was worried about this new regime of yours, I didn’t fully understand just how much… how much you’ve been struggling.’
‘I’ve messed everything up,’ I whisper. ‘I don’t even know who I am any more. I thought I was so empowered, taking charge of my life and turning it around, but now I’m not sure.’
Farah takes my hand. ‘I’ve never talked to you much about my life before meeting Irfan.’
‘You grew up in Leicester, didn’t you?’
‘Yes – although, as you know, I was born in Pakistan. We moved here when I was six. I loved Leicester. It’s home to the widest number of religions of all the cities in this country. I really felt at one with the diversity. I got a job in a coffee shop in the sixth form and went clubbing with colleagues. My parents were great. They understood that I needed to embrace English culture in order to be happy and make friends. Yet I knew it was always part of their plan that one day I would have an arranged marriage. As I got older, we would have trips back to Pakistan. Very sociable ones where I met extended family and respected locals. My parents did their best to compromise and let me go to university. I moved back home for a while afterwards. My idea was to save and become financially independent.’
I nod.
‘I loved – do love – my parents very much and had swerved the subject of an arranged marriage for years. However, the pressure really started when my older sister got married. Everyone kept saying I was next, but I wasn’t interested. At the same time I didn’t want to disappoint my parents. I saw the joy my sister’s union had brought them and they were thrilled when the family of a successful businessman, Adeeb, showed an interest. I couldn’t bear to let Mum and Dad down and somehow found myself pretending to go along with it.’
‘But you didn’t love him?’
‘No. He was a kind man, but not my type. He didn’t even read novels.’
We exchanged looks and both gave small smiles. I took a mouthful of the strong tea.
‘The pretence started to take its toll – the weeks of acting as if I was this perfect daughter, happy to do things the traditional way. I’d stopped eating all the Western junk food and drinking alcohol. My dress style became more modest. I was only a size ten back then.’
Heat flushes into my cheeks. ‘Farah, I never meant?—’
She pats my arm. ‘All I’m saying is, I modelled myself to be the perfect obedient, pretty-little-wife material. Over time, I became fond of the man Adeeb, but just as friends, and the deceit started to eat away at me even more. We didn’t meet often. He still lived in Pakistan, but when we did, I play-acted with him too. Things had gone so far I didn’t know how to call things off. I didn’t know how to tell him or my parents that I wanted a career and my own flat – that I wasn’t ready to settle down yet, and when I did, that I wanted to choose my own partner. I wanted to be myself.’
‘What happened?’
Farah smooths down the duvet. ‘I had a breakdown. Ended up in hospital. I didn’t know who I was any more… just like you now. Mum and Dad were horrified.’ She swallowed. ‘I’m so lucky that all they wanted was for me to get well – even if that meant the marriage being called off. That was a massive thing for them and I’ll never forget it. Adeeb was very understanding. I suspect he felt the same way too. He works in Dubai now and is married.’ She pauses. ‘The thing is, Violet – all the time I was pretending, I thought of myself as doing the right thing and being strong and such a role model daughter. But I was living a lie. It nearly killed me.’
‘How come you’ve never talked about this before?’
‘Because it’s a part of my life I don’t care to remember. And it all happened a long time ago. I can’t relate to being that person any more. These days, it sounds corny, but I just follow my heart. I eat too much. I’m not always smartly dressed. I enjoy a glass – or three – of wine. I have my own bank account. I’m not perfect, by any means, but my head’s straight because I’m being true to myself.’
She takes my tea and puts it on the table next to the digital clock. She leans forward and embraces me.
‘That’s all that matters, Violet, that your conscience is happy. It’ll tell you if it’s not. Anyone else’s opinion of what you should look like or how you should behave is irrelevant. That includes this Bella, even if she is trying to help. Perhaps if I met her and?—’
I shake my head violently.
The doorbell rings. Farah backs off about meeting my friend and instead we chat about the party. Someone knocks at the door. Irfan.
‘Everything okay in here?’
Farah and I nod.
‘Violet, you’ve got a visitor,’ he says. ‘Apparently Lenny went to your flat to find her.’