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Dishonour
Helen Black
Family care lawyer Lilly Valentine’s life is demanding enough. But when she is begged for help by Anwar Khan after his teenage sister commits suicide, she finds herself dragged into a community terrified by a self-styled vigilante group vowing to protect it’s women – by any means necessary…Together with her new assistant Taslima, Lilly gets caught up in the sinister world of a self-styled vigilante group vowing to protect the 'honour' of the women in their community - and punishing those who 'stray.'When another young Muslim girl disappears, Lilly knows it's only a matter of time before the group take the law into their own hands. But with so much in her own life at stake, has Lilly finally taken on more than she can handle?A gritty, hard-hitting read that will engross fans of Martina Cole and Mandasue Heller.
Dishonour
Helen Black
To Dad. We miss you.
Table of Contents
Cover Page (#u76c6408b-290d-59ba-8b19-da9dad9e8842)
Title Page (#u4b855c2f-77d2-586f-afdb-4d530175768e)
Dedication (#u5d15a458-23bb-5907-be90-8ed87821cd5f)
Prologue (#ub851eae5-edf4-5247-bf88-b42bec8b45b1)
Chapter One (#u7fa28b3a-4b96-5bd0-b28a-137be7d03bb1)
Chapter Two (#udbac4a12-d5b1-5d25-8480-027f5aa51aca)
Chapter Three (#uc14642ef-15d8-54ab-b025-0cc321783310)
Chapter Four (#u3714e642-d56b-5ff1-ab5d-730d9e8d63bd)
Chapter Five (#u5991910c-92e7-57f7-b0e3-5994ff8c1997)
Chapter Six (#u9f4d8922-0c36-5bd0-be93-6c46e129a0b8)
Chapter Seven (#u5c9dbf22-5991-5dff-bef9-09ecc7cd81ae)
Chapter Eight (#u27f045b1-06e7-535d-a41e-943802f8a8b4)
Chapter Nine (#u267a0185-e3e6-55c8-b3ee-65d5307a0431)
Chapter Ten (#u12150bc2-77d8-5c7b-a7a2-fa64febd4813)
Chapter Eleven (#u9e3b48ff-79d1-5d2e-8c2b-6cc1aff414a6)
Chapter Twelve (#u64ca6160-dfe0-5b05-9ee9-31925a7aaca9)
In Conversation with Helen Black (#ufc275eaf-01e6-5e2f-9bd3-7593c951eab3)
Acknowledgements (#u0f92275e-7f62-512c-8761-ca7a3d71108f)
About the Author (#ucab8d7bb-e184-5bef-9786-11ced5087616)
Praise (#ub51c05fd-453c-5e54-9ded-12f486905814)
By the same author: (#u38072728-9c2c-5ead-b898-72d8ecf13031)
Copyright (#ua31e5a90-da0f-52a3-82bc-09c5340893ff)
About the Publisher (#u36d506fb-6265-5323-b4e7-9d09a086aa49)
Prologue (#ulink_775daa9b-50af-5417-89c8-eae3b1fdcb1d)
I watch Yasmeen sleep, her breath shallow, her mouth slightly parted.
She is so beautiful.
Wherever she goes people stare at those eyes, heavy-lidded, flecked with amber.
At mosque, when she takes her usual place, her hijab secured tightly under her chin, I can see her lips move. They are garnet red as she murmurs her prayers.
Here, on the bed, I am dazzled by her all over again and I nearly change my mind. There’s still time. I could call an ambulance and they would inject her with drugs, attach her to machines.
I pull out my phone and my finger hovers over the number nine.
But no. I have made up my mind.
There was a time when I would have done anything for this girl and she would have done the same for me. In this cruel world we stood shoulder to shoulder against those who would torment us. When I lost hope she held my face in her hands.
‘God will provide.’
I wonder then why she has chosen to wreck everything. To bring this family to its knees. To crush me like a can.
Her chest rattles and I picture myself sitting here in Yasmeen’s bedroom, watching this girl I have loved so well. Watching her die.
Do I still love her?
With all my heart.
Yet I am immobile as her life creeps away.
She lets out a tiny gasp and a pink bubble forms on her lips.
When it bursts I know it is over and through my tears I whisper the words she cannot say for herself.
‘I bear witness that there is no God but Allah.’
Chapter One (#ulink_fafccf24-135d-578d-b1e4-214fb9716c47)
May 2009
‘Un-bloody-believable.’
Lilly Valentine leaned against the wall and sighed. ‘I paid for all this to be up and running last week and I still can’t make outgoing calls.’
The telephone engineer was lying on the floor, unscrewing a socket. ‘There must be a glitch in your system,’ he said.
‘A glitch?’
‘That’s right. There are often problems with the fibre optics.’
‘Listen, mate, I’m trying to run a law firm, not sit for a degree in telecommunications.’ Lilly heaved her backside into a chair. ‘Can you fix it?’
‘I’ll need a new circuit board,’ said the engineer. ‘Can I come back tomorrow?’
Lilly shook her head in despair.
‘Try not to worry,’ the man laughed. ‘Teething troubles are routine.’
Lilly smoothed her hand over her pregnant belly and looked around at the new offices of Valentine & Co. Unopened post was spewed across the doormat, files littered every seat, the espresso machine still in its box and the potted plant had already died.
‘Trust me,’ she said. ‘Nothing in my life is ever routine.’
As the engineer stood to leave Lilly leaned over and opened a box of headed notepaper. The smell of fresh ink escaped.
The engineer looked over Lilly’s shoulder. ‘“Valerian and Co,”’ he read. ‘Ain’t that a type of sleeping pill?’
Lilly closed her eyes tight and hoped this was all a bad dream. When she opened them everything was exactly the same.
‘Un-bloody-believable.’
The heat of the smoke makes Ryan’s lungs sting but he holds it in and counts to five.
Only girls can’t take their weed. And batty boys.
Lailla wags her finger. ‘You gonna get caught with that.’
Ryan laughs in a cloud of grey. ‘You worried about me?’
‘I think you a big enough boy to be looking after yourself, Ryan Sanders,’ she winks.
Naz and some of the other boys whistle but Ryan knows Lailla is only messing. She flirts with all the boys at school but everyone knows she’s going with Sonny. He’s eighteen and picks Lailla up in a black Merc. Personalised reg plate and everything. Respect to him ’cos Lailla’s well fit.
Ryan, Lailla and their friends meet here every lunchtime, on the grass between the lower school playground and the boundary wall. The headmistress calls it the Orchard Green but there ain’t no trees or nothing. There used to be a climbing frame but someone fell off and broke his shoulder so they took it down. It gets muddy sometimes but it’s the furthest point from the classrooms that they can get without breaking the rules. Not that Ryan gives a shit about rules, but some of the others are a bunch of pussies, innit.
The girls giggle and apply lip gloss while the boys smoke and chat them up. Ryan sometimes deals a few baggies. Nothing major.
‘Who’s your friend?’ asks Ryan, nodding at a girl hovering in the background.
He’s seen her around school, though she’s not in any of his sets, except in art. She’s got long shiny hair to her waist and a shy smile. He tries to catch her eye but she’s looking anywhere but at him. She don’t seem like the type to hang with Lailla, to be honest, and he wonders why she ain’t indoors revising or some shit.
Lailla grins, showing her sharp white teeth. ‘Why you asking?’
‘You know me,’ says Ryan, ‘I like to get to know all the pretty girls, innit.’
Lailla smiles again but her eyes narrow. She don’t like anyone else to get the attention. Likes to be top dog, she does.
‘Aasha,’ she pulls the girl by the arm, ‘come say hi to Ryan.’
The girl flushes and checks the ground.
‘So you can’t speak now?’ Lailla laughs. ‘Can’t look a boy in the eye?’
There’s something cruel in Lailla’s voice, like she enjoys her friend’s embarrassment. Girls are like that, though, thick as thieves one minute, bitching about each other the next.
Aasha lifts her chin as though it were made of concrete or something. When she finally, painfully, meets his gaze he can see his reflection in her eyes. ‘Hi.’
‘She’s a good Muslim girl,’ Lailla tells him, ‘so don’t be getting no ideas.’
Ryan laughs. A good Muslim girl. He’s heard that like, what, a million times before.
At least half the kids at school are Muslim, and yeah, they can chat in Urdu or whatever and they don’t make a big thing of Christmas, but they ain’t that different. Sometimes there’s trouble, like that time the Mehmet brothers got the school play stopped, but Ryan stays out of it. You can’t judge a person on whether they’re white, black, brown or fucking green, can you? And girls are girls, whether they cover their heads or not, innit.
‘A good Muslim girl,’ Ryan makes a face at Lailla. ‘Is that what you are in the back of Sonny’s car?’
Lailla gives him a playful slap. ‘Be nice.’
He approaches Aasha, his head cocked to one side. ‘I’m always nice.’
Where else would one tombola ticket cost five pounds? Lilly shook her head. Only at Manor Park, her son’s prep school, would such a thing be considered reasonable.
‘How many do you need?’ asked Penny Van Huysan, one of the mothers running the stall.
Penny, like most of the Manor Park parents, was minted. Her idea of budgeting was to cut down the housekeeper to four days a week.
‘Who’s in charge of the tea tent?’ asked Lilly. ‘Ronnie Biggs?’
Penny rolled her eyes. She and Lilly were long-standing friends. Despite the Yummy Mummy appearance and her addiction to Harvey Nicks, Penny was kind and honest, and often provided respite care to disabled children whose own parents were on the brink of collapse.
‘Have you seen the prizes?’
Lilly scanned the table. Diptyque Candles, a Cartier fountain pen, vouchers for dinner at The Ivy.
‘Very nice,’ Lilly nodded, ‘but nothing I need as much as five quid in my purse.’
‘Every penny goes to disadvantaged children.’
Lilly patted her stomach. ‘Which is exactly what this one will be if I chuck away my hard-earned cash.’
Lilly felt strong arms circling her waist and smelled the familiar mix of lemon and leather that meant Jack was near.
‘Is this one giving you grief?’ Jack asked Penny.
