Chapter 12
12
ELENA
Whistling, Elena opened the oven and took out the oblong cake tin, heat whooshing into her face. She squinted and placed it on the cooling rack, then prodded the sponge. Cardamom tea cake, Tahoor’s favourite. She’d never baked it before and its spicy aroma Bollywood-danced through the ground floor of her house. Rory had set up the lounge with drinks and bowls of crisps. The pre-match commentary on the television had begun. The game would kick off – literally – at half past seven.
Despite still being slightly hungover after spending last night in the pub, Elena took a large mouthful of wine. She yawned after another busy day at work, out of adrenaline now. Derek was pitching the broken biscuits idea, informally, to the board tomorrow. Every member of the marketing team was fully behind her concept. Spontaneously, last night, the department had gone to the Three Horseshoes, nearby, and the team spent the first hour debating whether the pub had put its Christmas tree up too early. It was also already advertising a festive quiz night. As a marketing team, they should have approved of the pub getting customers in a nostalgic mood so promptly, this hopefully translating into bigger booze sales. Yet decking the place out with Christmas decorations, before December, risked a consumer festive fatigue.
A couple of drinks later, the team had chatted about Elena’s new product idea – and so very much more, each sip of alcohol heightening honesty. Each and every one of them felt broken in some way. Julie worried day and night about her mum, who had long Covid; Pete’s mortgage had gone up to a rate he couldn’t afford and he had no idea how he was going to budget for the festive season. He’d suffered panic attacks. Heartbroken Sanjay had been sending email after email to his son’s school, trying to get to the bottom of some vicious online bullying; Gary’s dad still refused to meet Diego and made pointed comments about his son one day ‘manning up’ and settling down with a nice girl. As for Caz, her husband’s family was stuck in Ukraine, and Tony’s hospital doctor wife was chronically overworked and underpaid. All of them reckoned friends carried them through difficult times. They loved the idea of a share bag of broken biscuits that were still deemed sturdy enough to sell despite a challenging transportation or production process. It felt relatable, they said, and inspiring. Derek had turned up late to the pub, for a swift one, before hurrying home to his wife. A flyaway comment, a look between him and Elena, gave her the impression that maybe his marriage was in trouble.
‘There comes a point when you’re chipped and cracked, when you’ve lost parts of yourself that leave deep-seated scars, when resilience kicks in, along with a desire to fight those battles and stand taller,’ Elena had said in a full voice, and everyone had clinked glasses. A couple of her colleagues had tears in their eyes. This campaign was about more than raising profits.
Elena removed the cake from the tin. Unlike everyone else, Rory hadn’t talked about problems, nor had she. Perhaps his wounds, from the past, from the present, were as big as hers – or more likely, her cheerful, carefree housemate simply had none. She wiped her hands as the doorbell rang.
‘Tahoor! Come on in.’ She opened the door and the dark night released its embrace as he shuffled into the light and she held him in her arms instead. Elena took his anorak. Underneath he wore a Man City shirt and matching blue cardigan.
‘Thank you, lass. I’ve been looking forward to this all week. An easy win for us, it’ll be. Luton Town shouldn’t even be in the Premier League, playing with the big boys.’
‘Hasn’t Man City been seen as a small club, against United?’ she said sweetly.
She almost laughed at the indignation that crossed his face, and Tahoor was about to reply when he stood still and tilted his head. He sniffed and a look of recognition spread across his face, followed by a wave of something sadder. ‘I haven’t smelt cardamom cake for so long,’ he said in a scratchy voice. ‘When Isha stopped baking, that’s when I knew she was seriously ill.’
Elena squeezed his arm. ‘It’s for dessert, after fried eggs, beans and chips.’
His eyes widened. ‘Can we eat it in front of the telly, on our laps?’
Oh, Tahoor . She wanted to hug him again. ‘I don’t see why not. You go through and I’ll bring the food in when it’s ready.’
Tahoor beamed. ‘You’re going to make someone a wonderful wife.’ His voice lowered. ‘A bit of advice though. Isha never let herself go and would refresh her make-up in the evenings and change into a new sari.’ He looked Elena up and down, eyeing the baggy joggers and oversized jumper. ‘With a bit of effort, you’d bag that young man, Rory. Borrow that gold top of his. Trust me.’ He winked and strode into the lounge, leaving Elena staring after him, mouth agape. He sat down next to Rory and glanced back at Elena. She turned away and went into the kitchen.
When she returned, carrying the cutlery, napkins, and magazines to lean on, Rory was talking to Tahoor, slipping in the facts Don had passed on. For the first time, it struck her how deep the shadows were under Tahoor’s eyes, and there was a stain on his jumper.
‘Every game I pray it’s going to be like that 2011 blinder, when City beat United 6–1. What a derby. I was walking on air for days afterwards, especially in the office,’ said Tahoor, in a lively tone. ‘My boss supported the Reds and for once couldn’t call my team Manchester Shitty. I went out on a high, it was shortly before I retired.’
‘But nothing will ever beat the all-time classic against Liverpool Stanley,’ said Rory.
Tahoor’s face lit up. ‘You mean back in 1890, when the City team was called the Ardwick Association Football Club?’
‘Yep. 12–0, the score. Did you know they founded the club to attract men who might otherwise have joined criminal gangs and…’ Unsurprisingly, Rory had done extra research as he spoke about violence on the streets in the 1800s.
Why had Elena always assumed Rory shared facts with people to boast of his knowledge? Since he’d moved in, it had become clearer that he was simply passionate about diving into the detail. Tahoor sat rapt.
‘It was also the first team, in the northwest, to have a proper women’s squad,’ added Rory.
Tahoor tutted in a disapproving manner. ‘Lasses aren’t as… robust. There’s no getting around that, when it comes to height and muscle. The sport can be dangerous. Most unsuitable. The FA should never have lifted their ban on women’s teams in the seventies. ’
Rory shot Elena an apologetic glance. ‘I’m not sure about that,’ he said.
‘I’m very not sure about it, either,’ said Elena. ‘It’s a sport about skill, and there are safety regulations. Both sexes need to be careful about injury. And what about the Lionesses’ championship victory in 2022?’
‘Pah, it’s all very well for a man to get into scrapes and have a broken nose or a cauliflower ear. Such injuries are a badge of honour, even,’ said Tahoor. ‘Whereas a woman’s looks are important if she wants to do well in the world. Leave the dangerous sports to the men, I say.’
‘Then you won’t approve of me doing a bungee jump at the weekend,’ said Elena, excited for jumping off that bridge and sticking two fingers up to the past. She should have done that a long time ago.
Tahoor looked horrified. ‘Certainly not, and I’m sure Rory agrees with me.’
‘He’s the one who suggested trying his hobby,’ she said.
‘No reason why Elena shouldn’t do exactly the same as me.’
‘But it’s not… right,’ Tahoor spluttered.
Elena folded her arms and raised an eyebrow.
Tahoor’s cheeks reddened and he pulled at his beard. ‘Oh dear. I’ve done it again, haven’t I? When I talked about Isha dressing up at night, the same look came over your face. It’s a look that crosses my Yalina’s sometimes – and now she’s a teen, my granddaughter Sharnaz’s, too.’ He sighed. ‘We’ll have to bring in the card system.’
Elena frowned. ‘The what?’
‘Seeing as I’m such a football fan, Sharnaz made three cards – two yellow and one red. She or Isha hold them up if I’ve said something inappropriate. A yellow is more like a warning. Two yellows or one red means I mustn’t speak about women for the rest of my stay.’
Genius! Should have been introduced years ago, although Elena would never have needed them at home. Her dad’s expectations had always been high for his daughter – like when, in the sixth form, he’d landed her that job in his friend’s cosmetics company. It gave her work experience and a degree of responsibility that looked great on her CV. He’d also give her a lucky silver sixpence from his coin collection, to put in her pocket for every exam. ‘Love it! That’s brilliant,’ said Elena, giving a thumbs-up.
‘Isha ran our household. I always saw her as an equal, but I’ve got certain views, with good reason too…’ he waffled, and sat quietly for a moment. ‘It’s one of several reasons why I could never move in with Yalina,’ he said eventually.
‘She’s asked you to?’
‘Oh yes. But her family are a busy bunch and she has her accountancy job. I wouldn’t want to be a nuisance. What’s more, I’m not ready to give up my independence. I… I’m just waiting for that moment to come, when I get over Isha’s death, and am able to rebuild again.’
Rory sat listening.
‘Watch out then,’ said Elena. ‘I’ll make those cards for your next visit.’
‘I’ll still be invited around?’
‘Who else am I going to share my fun facts about football with?’ asked Rory.
Humour was restored to Tahoor’s face. ‘I do love a football fact! Did you know most footballs are made in Pakistan?’
‘Are they? I’ve been to Karachi. Elena said you come from there? Best kebabs in the world. ’
‘You should have tasted Isha’s! Did you go to Clifton Beach? She loved the seafood there.’
‘It was a brief day trip. We focused on the markets and drove past Mohatta Palace. Stunning.’ He smiled. ‘Now it’s my turn for a fun fact: Gary Lineker didn’t receive a single yellow or red card during his whole career.’
Elena hurried into the kitchen to get the egg and chips, leaving them talking about other well-known players. When she went back, they were both absorbed in the game. Or that’s how it looked. Perhaps Rory was a good actor, but then he punched the air and almost knocked his drink on to the floor when City scored. Keen to seek peace after eating, she left two slices of cake in front of them on the terrazzo coffee table and went upstairs. The imminent bungee jump, tomorrow’s pitch to the board, the hangover from last night, the lack of bolts at night… All of this left her wanting to get off the excited spinning top of life for a while, to take stock, to recharge.
Elena reached the upstairs landing and took a deep breath. Five minutes later, there was no trace of her.