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DISHONOUR
Jacqui Rose
‘A thrilling and gripping novel.’ Roberta Kray‘No matter what she did, he would always be there, right behind her. She could never escape’Laila is sixteen years old, beautiful, kind and clever; traits liable to get her into trouble and make people dislike her.She doesn’t make her life any easier when she falls in love with an English boy, bringing shame on her family and attracting the attention of some very dangerous men. These men are always watching her and will stop at nothing to get things done their way.Soon a terrible ‘accident’ forces Laila to make a deal with the devil. Now she must pay a very heavy price for breaking the rules.Full of strong women and compelling twists, Dishonour is an addictive read perfect for fans of Jessie Keane and Martina Cole.Praise for Jacqui Rose‘A captivating read from one of my favourite emerging authors.’ Mel Sherratt‘Gritty and gripping – by a star in the making.’ Kimberley Chambers‘A cracking good read.’ Jessie Keane
JACQUI ROSE
Dishonour
Copyright
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
A division of HarperCollinsPublishers
1 London Bridge Street,
London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)
First Published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2013
Copyright © Jacqui Rose 2013
Jacqui Rose asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Ebook Edition © 2013 ISBN: 9780007503605
Version: 2018-10-25
Dedication
For my mum, Patricia ‘O’ Neill,
because I know it’ll make her smile.
‘Everyone has the right to life, liberty and security of the person.’
Universal Declaration of Human Rights, Article 3
Table of Contents
Title Page (#ud49e100b-b429-56a0-8df1-c6614da1adfd)
Dedication (#ub95fa3c0-8781-5316-b59c-7ea464d4955e)
Epigraph (#u2f67b3fe-a6cd-5aa0-8b03-9a389049998d)
Chapter 1 (#ufb9f1a1e-187a-5478-be78-8a9962e9e4fe)
Chapter 2 (#uf95f84ea-02f3-5d46-a077-c4580aa42a42)
Chapter 3 (#ub86bae5c-4b4f-5d3c-a613-db0a4a8a535c)
Chapter 4 (#u1821c8b0-a8bf-5d5a-9793-218daa6cf4d1)
Chapter 5 (#u66644e7a-7ca5-5a8e-875e-6ebd92f44d99)
Chapter 6 (#ua1109086-c71f-5189-a15d-c0be46c45243)
Chapter 7 (#u51c70d92-d568-5402-b8e2-0c7e7305a446)
Chapter 8 (#u94af49c8-6c9f-5141-abe5-339925f4f57f)
Chapter 9 (#u9269418a-6177-56ab-bc9c-5e631e6a37f9)
Chapter 10 (#u198cd214-c7e7-5e74-86b0-db7ca3368680)
Chapter 11 (#ua1bb5ef6-3722-577e-9fa0-09f58aa0ab83)
Chapter 12 (#ucf14b3ba-1c2b-5aa5-808f-c22d39269ea0)
Chapter 13 (#u642249b3-191a-559e-8428-db2cf400cf81)
Chapter 14 (#u2ac93230-3825-57b6-ae82-0ef55061ee7b)
Chapter 15 (#uea2bbca7-d0ff-57a6-8a29-72fa36c1f0f8)
Chapter 16 (#uad2a8634-12b0-5196-9117-2835c3562d60)
Chapter 17 (#u8b340d85-b333-5ce0-ad97-112b87ae61ee)
Chapter 18 (#ub2d29f6a-3ba1-5b38-8829-207a036ae6a6)
Chapter 19 (#ue8243bd8-8eef-5dff-8548-389bf9dbf3eb)
Chapter 20 (#u4aeccec1-ef5f-5c87-a68c-5c38ff16c36c)
Chapter 21 (#uff45165f-4e6c-5dd7-b208-9084ca4f9919)
Chapter 22 (#u3fbca44d-e1a5-5337-91db-09e1f4fc46be)
Chapter 23 (#ue2116fde-7fe8-51c2-8766-92b3f06d3eb8)
Chapter 24 (#ue950f4b6-f158-5a8f-914f-d054bfbf8be1)
Chapter 25 (#uce7be8bf-5d0f-537b-b5b7-12d77d2858a0)
Chapter 26 (#u9bfe5c9d-4b81-5643-baf0-13aaf25bae37)
Chapter 27 (#uab66a15b-97d7-5e3d-9e88-fc6a454c548b)
Chapter 28 (#u63670eb9-d7a6-5770-99cc-fe0d54ede255)
Chapter 29 (#u54424479-1771-5019-9493-286c63bffb6d)
Chapter 30 (#u98c047df-0515-5079-b6e0-c9e2ef34c6a9)
Chapter 31 (#uf5a6eb80-0135-56c6-8a21-9c33b82d4e86)
Chapter 32 (#ud807775a-2b87-55e6-b2ac-1351dad5fec4)
Chapter 33 (#u35525df6-c522-557f-a16c-d0db5450a222)
Chapter 34 (#ua6163168-318c-5546-be38-a46c75e94601)
Chapter 35 (#u77e7c6e9-45c2-5dd3-816c-c3658d47e432)
Chapter 36 (#u3cdd619e-a2eb-586d-a9c6-328158ded678)
Chapter 37 (#ucd4f75bc-9466-5970-99b5-ae921174e712)
Chapter 38 (#u82eeac18-dbed-58d2-bd93-91d77227cf74)
Chapter 39 (#ude47250f-ef9b-56ba-9878-2ff170c52e81)
Chapter 40 (#u0c753ca9-dbfe-502f-a969-049db27df9d6)
Chapter 41 (#u6d890bda-d208-5b8a-950b-310c70c4bd98)
Chapter 42 (#u830c23b7-ab30-5555-9d45-4833274f382f)
Chapter 43 (#ub9bccbd2-0c8e-5245-958c-86c3fc2db587)
Read on for an exclusive extract of Jacqui’s next book BETRAYED (#ua5b3cb51-cc68-505a-b85c-4e3af7704c9f)
Acknowledgements (#u93a27d50-e2f7-5976-8d0f-776d9dcbec28)
About the Author (#ub7d8b663-72fb-5f39-913a-2382166d1df0)
Also by Jacqui Rose (#ua260831b-a767-5916-9025-8db532854b06)
Copyright (#u48bc34c8-259f-58ee-ac8f-a9505713f4d2)
About the Publisher (#ub7a32cd7-f4f6-5f5c-89c1-55e5678ea076)
‘IZZAT’
URDU FOR HONOUR
1
BRADFORD
Laila Khan opened her mouth to scream but the sound of the sharp slap across her face shocked her into silence. A tiny red mark appeared on her cheek, turning quickly into an angry raised welt as her uncle leaned into her face, spitting with rage. ‘You will do what I say, child. The time has come.’ Wide-eyed with fear, Laila stared at her uncle.
The aromatic smells from the palak chicken and rice on the plate in front of her began to overwhelm her senses. Her body jerked as a wave of nausea hit her. Hurriedly she jumped up from her chair, but her path was blocked by the imposing figure of her angry relative. Unable to stop herself, Laila deposited the contents of her stomach all over her uncle’s brand-new shoes.
Horrified, Mahmood Khan looked down at his feet before throwing Laila back down on the chair. Gripping hold of her hair, he snarled, hatred shining from his eyes. ‘I have been patient with you. Treated you like my own daughter. I allowed you to go to the funeral of your Aunt today, but now my patience has come to an end.’
Trembling, Laila felt a scratch on the palm of her hand and realised she was still clutching onto the reason for her nausea. It was a photograph. Loosening her grip, Laila allowed herself to look at it once more. It was a picture of a man. A man she’d never seen before yet her uncle had just informed her that in less than a week, she was to become his wife.
Tariq Khan sat across from his sister at the dinner table, noticing how her eyes were red, blotchy and swollen. Reminding him of a bullfrog he’d seen last year in Pakistan.
He’d come in later than the others from the funeral and had been greeted by screaming. When he’d gone to investigate, he’d seen Laila kneeling on the floor at their uncle’s feet, begging and pleading with him not to force her to marry.
Tariq had watched as their uncle had called his sister names. A whore. A slut. Accusing her of being nothing short of a disgrace. Spitting at her in disgust, putrid yellow phlegm sliding down Laila’s face. She’d then turned to him. Pulling at his trouser leg and looking up with her big almond-shaped eyes. Begging him to do something to help. But what could he do? How could he have helped her? He’d been powerless. So, unable to see the pain in Laila’s eyes, he’d turned his face away from her, leaving her begging on the floor.
She knew what their uncle was like. Didn’t she understand everything would be easier for her if she didn’t put up such a fight? Couldn’t she see she was making it harder for herself? She knew she had a duty. A duty to their uncle. A duty to their family.
What did she think her uncle was going to let her do? Had she really thought her uncle would let her run around like the other girls in her class? She was sixteen, almost seventeen. Old enough their uncle had told her, too old nearly.
Gravely, his uncle had told him word had got back that Laila had been cosying up with some English boy at school. ‘Flaunting herself, making a fool out of our family name.’
He’d tried to persuade his uncle that no dramatic course of action was needed but his uncle had just stared at him with hostility. ‘She has brought this on herself. You cannot feel sorry for her Tariq, you cannot show weakness. This sort of behaviour has to be stopped. To be punished. We have our family name to think of. Your family name.’
And then their uncle had straight away put what was needed to be done into action.
As Tariq continued to look at Laila, still sobbing, he knew she didn’t know how thankful she should be to be getting married. Her life wasn’t over; though it would’ve been, if his uncle and the family had had their way.
Their uncle was from a certain mindset. A small, but dangerous one. A dark sinister part to the otherwise warm, friendly Pakistani community they’d always lived in. His uncle believed in punishment, not forgiveness; revenge instead of mercy. And according to their uncle – just like the father who’d recently been found guilty of killing his daughter after finding text messages from her boyfriend – bringing dishonour to the family had to be avenged.
Tariq had found himself having to beg with his uncle and other relatives, pleading for leniency on Laila’s behalf. Trying to make them see the punishment didn’t fit the crime. Eventually they’d backed down, but on one condition; that Laila get married.
‘Is everything in order?’
Tariq’s thoughts were broken as his uncle spoke to him in a gruff tone. Putting his head down, Tariq muttered in reply, wishing that what was about to happen didn’t have to. ‘Yes, everything’s sorted; just like you asked.’
Mahmood Khan looked at his nephew. There was a lot to do before tomorrow. He was feeling tired but he prayed he would be given strength to deal with the next few hours.
He glanced quickly at Laila as he reached for another helping of rice. Girls were a curse. Especially beautiful ones. The more beautiful, the more of a curse.
Quite frankly, he wasn’t sure what wrongs he’d done to deserve to be blighted with three nieces. But then, Mahmood knew he shouldn’t question what he’d been given – only make the best of it, which if he were to be honest, was very hard to do.
Laila had always been spirited. Her two sisters, who were older than her and already married, had been different. They’d been quiet and willing to please. Understanding what it was to be a woman. Neither of them had the brains nor the dazzling beauty of Laila; they’d been blessed with simplicity and plainness.
