Read Online Rough Cut: Rosie Gilmour 6 by Anna Smith - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Anna Smith
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Can you not see we are upset? We are frightened. Can you leave us?’
‘But perhaps I can help you,’ Rosie chanced, because they made no attempt to stand up or run away from her. ‘Is this your friend?’ She gestured towards the bewildered girl. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘She is my cousin.’
‘What’s wrong? I promise you can trust me.’ Rosie looked the young girl in the eye, holding her gaze for a moment.
The younger girl again spoke in Urdu to Sabiha and she replied, glancing at Rosie as though explaining who she was.
‘Please, tell your cousin not to be afraid, that I may be able to help. But I can only help if you talk to me.’
‘I did already tell her who you were a couple of days ago. We have talked about you.’
Something was beginning to give. Rosie’s gut did a little flip. She was nearly in. She took a breath, stepped a little closer.
‘What’s the matter with your cousin? Look, I don’t know her name, or anything else about the two of you, so I promise, I’m not here to write a story or say anything to your family or anything else that would get you into trouble. I am just trying to get to the bottom of something that all of my instincts tell me is wrong. About Rabia’s death. Can you understand that?’
The younger girl looked up through tear-stained eyes, and Rosie saw the dark under-eye circles of someone who hadn’t slept in a while. Her skin was blotchy from crying,and she pushed back her headscarf, exposing lush, black hair. She turned to Sabiha and sniffed, wiping her nose with a tissue. Then, to Rosie’s surprise, she spoke in a broad Glasgow accent.
‘Maybe we can talk to her, Sabiha,’ she said, her eyes pleading. ‘Maybe we can find someone to trust. I don’t want to go to Pakistan. I can’t. I’ll kill myself if they make me go.’
For a long moment, nobody spoke and Rosie held her breath. She was in. She glanced over her shoulder. The park was almost deserted.
‘Can we talk for a few minutes?’ Rosie asked. ‘May I sit down?’
The two girls shuffled up together to make room for her on the bench. She looked straight at Sabiha.
‘What’s wrong, Sabiha? Why don’t you just start at the beginning? I think your cousin is right. You need to talk to someone, and I may be able to help.’
Sabiha sat for a moment in silence, then glanced at her cousin, who reached out and squeezed her hand. Rosie looked at both of them, desperation and helplessness written all over their faces. It brought a lump to her throat.
‘My sister.’ Sabiha began. ‘I know my sister didn’t kill herself.’ She swallowed. ‘We will never know the truth – if she jumped from the window or was pushed. But all I know is that her husband and his father were in the room with her at the time, so if they saw her about to jump, then whydidn’t they stop her? They drove her to her death. They locked her in the room. Punished her.’
‘Have you told this to the police?’
‘No . . . No way. I haven’t even been interviewed by the police.’
‘But wasn’t everyone in the house interviewed? Everyone who lives there?’
‘No. They must have told the police that I don’t live there. Maybe I’m not registered as living there. I don’t even know. I can’t ask questions. If I ask any questions they . . . they . . .’ She broke down. ‘They beat me, the way they beat my sister.’
She held out her arms and pulled back her sleeve to expose the red welts on both wrists.
Rosie looked at them and her heart sank.
‘What happened?’
‘It was after Rabia died. The day after. I was crying and screaming that it was their fault, and I said I was going to run away and take my children with me. They dragged me to the bedroom and beat me up, then tied me to the table so I couldn’t move for hours.’
‘Who did this?’ Rosie asked.
‘Farooq’s uncle. And my mother-in-law.’
‘They beat you like that?’
Sabiha nodded, wiping her tears.
‘It’s what happens if you disobey.
‘But perhaps I can help you,’ Rosie chanced, because they made no attempt to stand up or run away from her. ‘Is this your friend?’ She gestured towards the bewildered girl. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘She is my cousin.’
‘What’s wrong? I promise you can trust me.’ Rosie looked the young girl in the eye, holding her gaze for a moment.
The younger girl again spoke in Urdu to Sabiha and she replied, glancing at Rosie as though explaining who she was.
‘Please, tell your cousin not to be afraid, that I may be able to help. But I can only help if you talk to me.’
‘I did already tell her who you were a couple of days ago. We have talked about you.’
Something was beginning to give. Rosie’s gut did a little flip. She was nearly in. She took a breath, stepped a little closer.
‘What’s the matter with your cousin? Look, I don’t know her name, or anything else about the two of you, so I promise, I’m not here to write a story or say anything to your family or anything else that would get you into trouble. I am just trying to get to the bottom of something that all of my instincts tell me is wrong. About Rabia’s death. Can you understand that?’
The younger girl looked up through tear-stained eyes, and Rosie saw the dark under-eye circles of someone who hadn’t slept in a while. Her skin was blotchy from crying,and she pushed back her headscarf, exposing lush, black hair. She turned to Sabiha and sniffed, wiping her nose with a tissue. Then, to Rosie’s surprise, she spoke in a broad Glasgow accent.
‘Maybe we can talk to her, Sabiha,’ she said, her eyes pleading. ‘Maybe we can find someone to trust. I don’t want to go to Pakistan. I can’t. I’ll kill myself if they make me go.’
For a long moment, nobody spoke and Rosie held her breath. She was in. She glanced over her shoulder. The park was almost deserted.
‘Can we talk for a few minutes?’ Rosie asked. ‘May I sit down?’
The two girls shuffled up together to make room for her on the bench. She looked straight at Sabiha.
‘What’s wrong, Sabiha? Why don’t you just start at the beginning? I think your cousin is right. You need to talk to someone, and I may be able to help.’
Sabiha sat for a moment in silence, then glanced at her cousin, who reached out and squeezed her hand. Rosie looked at both of them, desperation and helplessness written all over their faces. It brought a lump to her throat.
‘My sister.’ Sabiha began. ‘I know my sister didn’t kill herself.’ She swallowed. ‘We will never know the truth – if she jumped from the window or was pushed. But all I know is that her husband and his father were in the room with her at the time, so if they saw her about to jump, then whydidn’t they stop her? They drove her to her death. They locked her in the room. Punished her.’
‘Have you told this to the police?’
‘No . . . No way. I haven’t even been interviewed by the police.’
‘But wasn’t everyone in the house interviewed? Everyone who lives there?’
‘No. They must have told the police that I don’t live there. Maybe I’m not registered as living there. I don’t even know. I can’t ask questions. If I ask any questions they . . . they . . .’ She broke down. ‘They beat me, the way they beat my sister.’
She held out her arms and pulled back her sleeve to expose the red welts on both wrists.
Rosie looked at them and her heart sank.
‘What happened?’
‘It was after Rabia died. The day after. I was crying and screaming that it was their fault, and I said I was going to run away and take my children with me. They dragged me to the bedroom and beat me up, then tied me to the table so I couldn’t move for hours.’
‘Who did this?’ Rosie asked.
‘Farooq’s uncle. And my mother-in-law.’
‘They beat you like that?’
Sabiha nodded, wiping her tears.
‘It’s what happens if you disobey.
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