Behind Lily in the pale grey hall a sulky three-year-old peered out at them, hanging off the waxed balustrade of the staircase. Beyond him the hallway led through to a bright, cheerful kitchen.
‘Lily?’
She smiled out at them. ‘Yeah, can I help you?’
The child, seeing their dark suits and formal stance, lost interest and ran off into the kitchen.
Morrow introduced herself and Harris. ‘We’re investigating the kidnap of Mr Aamir Anwar. Can we come in and talk to you?’
‘Oh, gosh, yes of course.’ She swung the door open and welcomed them into the house. ‘Have you heard anything about Aamir? Is he home?’
‘Not yet, I’m afraid.’
‘Come in, come in.’ She led them through to the kitchen and offered them seats at a pine table littered with cups and children’s drawings and bills. ‘Bit chaotic before the cleaner gets here,’ she said, sweeping the rubble over to one end. The boy was sitting in a miniature red armchair in the corner, drinking from a sipper cup, watching them and looking cross.
Lily slipped into a kitchen chair across from them. ‘So, how can I help?’
‘Well,’ Morrow took her notebook out for show, ‘your name came up a couple of times and we wondered if we could talk to you about your relationship with Mr Anwar.’
She looked a little uncomfortable and glanced at the little prince in the armchair. ‘OK.’
‘How did you meet?’
She shrugged. ‘At school.’
Morrow looked at her, ‘You were at school…’
‘Omar and Billal, yeah. Same year as Billal.’
‘Right.’ She wrote it in her notebook, giving herself time to think. ‘OK, and what is your relationship?’
‘Well, Billal is Oliver’s father…’
The child looked furiously back and forth, knowing he was being talked about and not pleased about it.
‘And how old is Oliver?’
‘Three years and four months,’ she said, as if it was a triumph.
Morrow wrote it in longhand in her notebook. Her pencil tip ripped the paper. ‘But you’re not with Billal?’
‘No.’ Lily was looking at the paper, at the rip, frowning her gorgeous forehead.
‘And,’ said Morrow, ‘you know he’s just had another baby with his wife.’
‘Hm,’ she looked from the rip to Morrow, knowing the woman was trying to upset her. ‘Fine by me.’
‘You’d split up anyway?’
Lily took her thick hair in her hand and leaned on her elbow. ‘Billal’s…’ a glance at the child, ‘hard work to be honest. Not for me.’
‘What do you mean hard work?’
She hesitated and dropped her voice. ‘He’s very into family.’
‘Your family?’
Lily looked hard at her and avoided the question. ‘I split up with him shortly after Mr Nutkins arrived,’ she nodded to the boy, ‘but he didn’t split up with me until quite a long time afterwards.’
‘You mean he’s been hassling you?’
Clearing her throat Lily sat up and looked at the wall clock. ‘Look, um, my nanny’s going to come in very soon, could we wait and talk about this then? I’m not that comfortable…’
‘No,’ said Morrow flatly, ‘this is urgent.’
She wasn’t pleased. She looked from Morrow to the rip in the notebook and back again, chewed her cheek and turned to the child. ‘Nutkins, how about putting on a play jersey and going into the garden for a run around?’
The kid shrugged and stood up, dropping his cup carelessly. She went over, pulled a pale blue jersey from the floor over his head and checked his laces and opened the back door, shoving him out. ‘Stay away from the nettles.’
She left the door open and came back to the table, suddenly looking much harder. ‘OK, I don’t know what that fucker told you – I’m mental probably, I’m a grasping bitch probably-’
‘Is Billal involved with your family business?’
‘Right.’ She raised a furious finger in Morrow’s face. ‘First off, it’s not my family business. We can none of us help where we come from. I haven’t seen my father for five years. Two: Bill and I knew each other from school. Nothing I can do about that. He met my dad then. If they’re going on fucking holiday together now it’s nothing to do with me. I’m nothing to do with either of them, nothing. I never see him. He gets supervised visitation once a month and I’m not even there-’
Her fury was losing momentum and Morrow used it as an opportunity to take charge. ‘Did you start going out at school?’
‘No. It was at a friend’s wedding. He was fine at first but I got pregnant, fine, OK, still together but then suddenly, out of fucking nowhere, he gets all wrapped up in business and suddenly he’s got religion – big time.’
‘He join any groups, start hanging about with anyone?’
‘No, he’s not… it’s not that sort of religion. It’s not political.’
‘What then? Spiritual awakening?’
‘Spiritual? God, no.’ She laughed, shook her head. ‘Spiritual? No. You’re not from religious people are you?’
Morrow shook her head. Harris gave a sideways nod that suggested he was, if anyone was interested. No one was.
‘It’s not just about… you know, Jesus or whoever. It’s about… you know…’ Lily seemed puzzled, struggled to find the words. ‘Belonging to people, you know?’
She looked to them for understanding. Morrow nodded. ‘Go on.’
‘Billal wanted me to convert, go and live with his mother. Don’t get me wrong, I love Sadiqa, she’s gorgeous, but I’m Catholic, I’m Scottish, I’m not going to move in with total strangers and cover my head with a fucking scarf for the rest of my life.’
‘That would be a shame.’
The women looked at Harris who started, as if he hadn’t realised he’d said it out loud.
Morrow brought her back. ‘But Billal didn’t take it well?’
She snorted. ‘Under-fucking statement.’ Hurt eyes skirted the table, weaving through a thousand arguments and midnight calls. ‘I mean if it wasn’t for Aamir and Sadiqa insisting he wouldn’t even pay the support.’
‘Why? Does he think you make enough yourself?’
‘Oh, I don’t work.’ She seemed surprised at the suggestion. ‘Oliver’s only three and a bit.’
‘I see.’ Morrow looked around the big kitchen. ‘What about your family?’
‘No,’ she was indignant, thinking Morrow didn’t understand, ‘I wouldn’t take money, no way.’ It seemed to be a point of pride for her that she wouldn’t take cash from her dad. The irony that she’d just found someone else to squeeze seemed lost on her. ‘Bill thought I’d marry him if he stopped paying the mortgage. He even stopped paying for the nanny at one point. Then he got even more into being a Muslim and married that girl from bloody Newcastle or wherever. Arranged, for fucksake, like it was the middle ages or something. I mean, I know Sadiqa was shocked. Hers and Aamir’s was a love match. She doesn’t like subservient women.’ She shook her thick hair off her shoulders, implying that Sadiqa preferred her over Meeshra. ‘I don’t either.’
‘Lily, what does Billal do for a living?’
Lily stopped, confused as to why the conversation had diverted from a thorough exploration of her complaints. ‘For a living? Bill’s in the motor business.’
‘Bill?’
‘Specialist cars.’
Morrow thought about the Lamborghini, smelled the damp, saw a set of ludicrously white teeth. ‘I see, I see,’ she said, trying to slow her mind down by talking slowly. ‘Where’s his garage?’
‘No, he hasn’t got a garage.’
‘No garage?’
‘No, no,’ Lily waved a hand dismissively, ‘he’s just a middle man. Import/export.’
36
Pat’s heart beat a bossa nova rhythm, a joyful tat tat tat at the thought of her being in there, through those locked wooden doors, sitting upright in bed bathed in yellow sunshine, a bride awaiting her groom, facing the corridor with the beginning of a smile on her lips. It was almost forty-eight hours since they had seen each other but it felt much longer.