By Death Divided by Patricia Hall Read Free Book Online Page A

it.
    He dropped his shopping into the boot of his car and then made his way up the hill, not this time to his parents’ home but to the house of his aunt and uncle, Faria’s parents, and knocked lightly on the front door, which opened directly onto the street. It was opened by his cousin Jamilla, a few years younger than Faria. She was a young woman now, he noticed with approval, elegant in her traditional dress but with her headscarf only loosely furled around her shoulders revealing glossy black hair cut short in a fashion which he did not think her parents would totally approve of. She looked instantly pleased to see him, but he could see an anxiety in her eyes that worried him.
    ‘Are your parents at home?’ he asked. She shook her head and ushered him in. The proprieties were not offended by the visit of a cousin, even an unmarried one. She led him into the living room, where they found her sister curled on the sofa. The younger girl, Saira, turned the television off with a guilty look.
    ‘It’s all right, it’s only Mohammed,’ Jamilla said. ‘We were watching a Bollywood video. My father doesn’t like it. He says it’s far too modern.’ She laughed. ‘If he only knew what went on out of sight these days. There’s no way we’re going to marry backwoodsmen from some dusty village.’
    ‘Good for you,’ Sharif said, aware that perhaps they regarded him and his less than traditional choices as some sort of role model, and knowing that it would be much harder for these young women to break free than it had been for him as a male in a strictly paternalist community. ‘Are you staying on at school, Jamilla?’
    ‘I’m doing A levels. I’m going to university, whatever they say,’ she said.
    ‘Me too,’ Saira said. ‘I want to study law. Perhaps I’ll jointhe police like you.’
    ‘Perhaps you will,’ Sharif said. ‘Your parents should be pleased. But watch your film if you like. I enjoy the music and dancing, though I can’t say the plots appeal much. I really came to see your father.’
    Jamilla looked at her cousin for a moment thoughtfully.
    ‘Did you want to ask him about Faria?’ she said quietly at last. ‘He won’t talk about her, you know, even though she hasn’t been to see us for ages.’
    ‘My parents told me that,’ Sharif said, wondering how much these two smart young women had kept in touch with their older sister. ‘Have you spoken to her at all?’ He knew a lot of the girls had mobile phones their parents did not necessarily know about.
    ‘Not for weeks,’ Jamilla said. ‘When I call, Imran Aziz answers so I hang up. The last time I spoke to Faria she seemed fine.’ She glanced at her sister for a second and the younger girl nodded imperceptibly, as if giving her permission to go on.
    ‘You mustn’t tell anyone, Mohammed,’ Jamilla said. ‘But the last time we spoke she seemed really excited because she said she was pregnant, but it was very early and I wasn’t to tell anyone except Saira because she wasn’t sure yet. She sounded really happy about it. But since then I haven’t managed to get through to her.’
    ‘If she was really pregnant surely she would have let your parents know?’ Sharif said.
    ‘I know, I know, so maybe it was a false alarm. She doesn’t seem to have told my mother yet. False alarms happen, you know,’ she said seriously as if Sharif might be unaware of such female mysteries.
    ‘I know,’ he said gravely, suppressing a smile.
    ‘And we think it’s happened before,’ Saira said.
    ‘You mean the false alarm?’ Sharif said. ‘She’s lost babies?’
    Saira nodded, her face serious.
    ‘I’m only guessing,’ she said. ‘But she always sounds very sad about not having children yet.’
    ‘So how long ago did you speak to her?’
    ‘Jamilla glanced at her sister again as if for confirmation.’ ‘About two months ago maybe. My mother’s very upset because she doesn’t come to see her any more.’
    ‘And you haven’t been