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her hand. ‘If uncle catches you up at this time, you know there’ll be trouble. Please, try not to be so headstrong Laila. You must learn to quell your spirit, child. No good will come of it. Women have no place to question men, no matter how great a test it may seem.’
    Laila scanned her mother’s face, not truly recognising the person in front of her. Before her father had died her mother had been open, warm and loving. Now she was closed, distant and worse still, afraid.
    ‘Mum, please. I need you to help me.’ Laila’s eyes filled with tears as she watched her mother wrap her shawl tightly round her shoulders. Her mother’s voice was hesitant when she spoke. ‘Laila, what do you want me to do?’
    ‘Speak to uncle. Explain I haven’t done anything. He might listen to you. Tell him I don’t want to get married.’
    Laila’s mother slowly shook her head, pain for her child in her eyes. ‘Things have changed now. You don’t have a choice and your insistence in having one has caused all the problems. Did you really think hanging around with the English boy would’ve been acceptable to your uncle? Didn’t you know you’d cause trouble?’
    ‘Trouble? There’s that word again. We didn’t do anything.’
    ‘Laila, why do you always have to argue? Why can’t you just accept this?’
    In frustration Laila raised her voice at her mother, tears streaming down her face as she spoke. ‘How can you say that to me Mum? You always taught me to think for myself; you told me I never had to accept anything I didn’t want to. You know we talked about me going to university. You told me you wanted me to do the things you’d never done.’
    ‘Shhh Laila, stop talking like that. You know all girls must get married eventually. It’s either now or later, so what’s the difference?’
    Laila’s face was full of bewilderment. ‘There is a difference; you know there is a difference. Daddy would never have allowed this, he wouldn’t have wanted you to allow it.’
    Her mother put her head down as she talked, fidgeting with the sash edge on her cream shawl. When she spoke, her voice was laced with warmth. ‘Laila, I know it’s been hard for you since your father passed away and today we buried one of your aunts. But doesn’t that show you Laila that life changes? We take things for granted when we shouldn’t do. Life moves in ways we sometimes don’t want it to move in. No matter how in control we think we are, we have no real power and we have to accept our destiny. And yours is to get married. Laila, you have to do this, not only for yourself, but for all of us.’
    Laila could hear the hysteria in her own voice as she threw herself at her mother, wrapping her arms round her as if she were a child. ‘I can’t. I can’t. I can’t do it. Please Mum, help me! I don’t want to do this, I’m scared. I promise I’ll behave in the way uncle wants me to. I won’t complain again. Please tell him I’ll behave … tell him.’
    ‘The decision has already been made.’
    ‘Mum …’
    ‘Laila, if I could, I would help you, but there’s nothing I can do.’
    ‘But you’re my mother. You must be able to help me.’
    Laila’s sobbing echoed around the upstairs landing and it became louder as she felt her mother stroke her hair in the darkness. ‘Laila, my beautiful, beautiful child, I’m so sorry. So, so sorry.’
    ‘Laila? Laila? … Wake up.’ Mahmood Khan lent over his niece. He could see her face was swollen but chose to ignore it as he shook her awake. Bruises faded, swollen lips went down but defiance had to be tamed. It was as simple as that.
    It was still dark outside, though the beginning of the crimson morning sky was just appearing over the chimney pots of the rows of terraced houses. Mahmood paused for a moment, deep in thought. They had a lot to do today and he hoped his niece would understand there was no room for hysterics.
    Mahmood sniffed, realising the smell of last night was still lingering