The Kellys of Kelvingrove by Margaret Thomson Davis Read Free Book Online Page B

girl. He was actually too young to be falling in love with anyone. He was just a schoolboy, for goodness sake. There was a Pakistani Muslim girl in his class. Bashir had seen her. A pretty little girl, she was. Why couldn’t Mirza have fallen for her? But of course, he knew perfectly well that falling in love wasn’t a cold-blooded thing that you planned. ‘That’s for the best,’ you tell yourself. ‘I’ll have her.’ But no, it seldom worked that way.
    British people were horrified at the mere idea of Muslim arranged marriages. They thought that they were forced marriages. This was not so. When he’d had a bride chosen for him, for instance, he could have said no.
    But he didn’t because, for one thing, he trusted his parents to make a good, suitable and happy choice for him, and they did. He had been broken-hearted when the dreadful gas explosion had killed his dear wife, and his loving parents. Naturally, Mahmood had been broken-hearted too. He had lost a much-loved daughter. He would never forget, and he would be eternally grateful to Mahmood for welcoming him into the bosom of his family. He and his wife Rasheeda had treated him like a son. Mirza was like a brother to him. Mirza was only a schoolboy but was a tall, handsome young man, broad-shouldered and muscular, as a result no doubt of the time he spent in the school gym.
    Yes, he wished Mirza had made Mahmood happy by bringing the little Pakistani girl home to be introduced to him. At the same time, he couldn’t help understanding and sympathising with Mirza when he saw Sandra, the girl Mirza said he loved and wanted to marry.
    He truthfully had never seen such a gorgeous girl in his life. She had a smooth creamy skin and a pretty pink rosebud mouth. But it was her hair – my God, talk about a crowning glory! It was long, reaching below her waist, and such a shining red-gold colour, it was startlingly beautiful.
    Couldn’t Mahmood see and understand how and why Mirza loved such a girl? Sadly, he couldn’t and it left Bashir with a worrying dilemma. He wanted to be loyal to Mahmood – one hundred per cent loyal – but try as he might, he couldn’t help understanding and sympathising with Mirza.
    He tried to talk to Mahmood.
    ‘Pop, look at the girl. Please try to see why Mirza has fallen in love with her. Have you ever seen such a beautiful creature in your life?’
    ‘I’m constantly surprised and disappointed in you, Bashir,’ Mahmood said. ‘You have developed so many Western ways and even talk like a born Glaswegian and I can understand that in a way, with you working in our Gorbals shop all the time.’
    ‘But, Pop, poor Mirza. I love him like a brother and can’t bear to see him so unhappy. Please try to find it in your heart to accept Sandra and Mirza’s love for her.’
    ‘No, never, Bashir. And I’m sure that girl’s mother will feel the very same as I do. She will not want a mixed marriage for her daughter. They are Christians, Bashir. I have seen her going to church on Sunday mornings with that minister of the Christian religion who lives in the end house.’
    Bashir sighed. But he still couldn’t help feeling sorry for Mirza. Somehow he had to help him.

13
    It was dark.
    ‘Oh God,’ Mae groaned. ‘Not another power cut.’
    That and the strike of the delivery drivers made it impossible to get any bread in the shops. People were forced to walk in the dark to the bake houses, which just worked during the night. They couldn’t even use their cars because of the fuel crisis.
    ‘I’ll go,’ Jack said.
    ‘No, of course you won’t – walking all that way with your sore hip. No, I’ll go. I’ll get Doris to go with me. Her mother gets a strong sleeping tablet at night now, so it’s all right to leave her.’
    ‘Are you sure?’
    ‘Yes, of course.’
    ‘All right, but take care.’
    She went next door and collected a more than willing Doris who was always glad of any excuse to get out of the house. They ventured arm in