Read Online Desh by Kim Kellas - Free Book Online Page A

handsome.”
    â€œYou what?”
    â€œYour brother told me it was the first thing you said.”
    â€œOh, please.” She moved the hand off her stomach and fled back to the bathroom. Outside, the crickets screamed. It would be first light soon.
    â€˜ The Janitor’s in my room. In the bedroom they built for me. This morning he found me in the chair. I must have nodded off. He tore my hair. I punched him. I haven’t slept for three days. How could my own father think this is the best he could do for me? Am I that fat and ugly? I’m his only daughter. He should have given me the world to the extent that he could. He should have given me my prince. Instead I got a Gourab. I think deep down if Dad had found a decent British guy I would have been happy. But I died inside to think this is what he thinks is the best choice for me. Mum’s not well. They locked her in the bedroom during the mehndi and the Nikah. Nailed planks across the door. I think she died a little inside too.’
    Even her father was on edge. Just before lunch he found her wandering around the kitchen and asked what was happening. She seized the chance to deal with Gourab in daylight hours, and suggested perhaps he should return to his job in Dhaka, just until things sorted themselves out. When she showed him the bruises on her chest, he had to agree. So Gourab was driven away and the pulse of things slowed down again.
    Mealtimes punctuated the days. But Aila refused to eat and, when everyone gathered downstairs, she’d go up to her room, lock the door and, kneeling down, reach into the back of the bottom drawer and bring out a carefully bundled scarf, which she’d unwrap on her lap and touch the silver blade of the kitchen knife.
    â€˜I hurt but I can’t see the pain. No-one can. When I cut the pain is released and there it is. I have matched the inside to the outside. So I can physically see it. Otherwise I am just going quietly mad inside my head and all this pain’s not real. I don’t have the strength to fight Dad anymore. I don’t have anything to fight him with and all Mum would want is for me to get along with my husband and not bring shame on the family. My grandmother was married when she was eight. She didn’t have the luxury of choice. Why do I feel I’m entitled to it? If I put aside my preferences, I make Mum happy and the family goes on. Could I make this marriage work? Are his hands so very different to the others? Jay or Ojo or Dwayne? I let them touch me .’
    She fell asleep on the floor with her face resting on the open page and came to, some while later when her phone pinged and vibrated on the paper. The screen lit up with a text. Neil wanted to call – he needed to speak to her. What could be so important he had to call? Her mind raced. It might be that her job had gone. She wouldn’t be surprised if head office had decided enough was enough. It had been three months, not three weeks after all.
    Up on the roof was the only place she could go to take the call. At least there, she’d be guaranteed some privacy. As far as she knew, she was the only one who ever went up there. So she kept it to herself and didn’t go too often. If the others knew, she’d lose another patch of peace. Near the appointed time, she sat cross legged with the phone in her lap and waited.
    â€œAila? You there, Princess? How you bearing up?” The voice came through a metal tunnel.
    â€œNeil, I can’t believe you’re ringing. It’s so good to hear from you.”
    â€œAre you alone? Can you be overheard?”
    â€œI can’t say much, but there’s no one around. Why? What’s the matter?”
    â€œI’ve been speaking to Shafia. She showed me your text. She’s worried sick. You need to know the Forced Marriage Act was passed here in November. Just listen. If you’re happy with what’s happened that’s fine. Ignore me. But if