came back with a cup of water for Ira and a fresh pack of Jaffa Cakes for the massive. Like scavengers‚ all hands reached out and cleared the packet of its contents. We enjoyed the silence as we munched on the biscuits‚ and shared optimistic glances at each other – a look that said everything probably won’t be alright‚ but as long as we have Jaffa Cakes then it can’t be all that bad.
I caught Ira looking at the entrance‚ not for the first time that evening.
‘Have you messaged Naaim?’ I asked. Naaim was the missing fifth member and also the youngest. Ira was pretty protective towards him‚ in that way girls are when they sense damage. Naaim was pretty fucking damaged. His mother was wheelchair-bound. His father an abusive alcoholic. Yeah‚ pretty fucked up‚ full of that teenage angst that I keep hearing about. Me against the world kind of character. Probably why he and Ira connected.
‘Yeah‚ Jay‚’ she said‚ ‘messaged him‚ called him. He ain’t come back to me.’ Her voice drifted. ‘Not heard from him in a couple of days.’
‘Is he still seeing that bird?’ Zafar asked.
‘You wanna try asking me that again?’ Ira threw him a look.
‘Layla‚’ Zafar smiled nervously. ‘Is he still seeing Layla?’
‘Yeah. Getting serious‚ too.’
‘Has young Naaim been introduced to Layla’s father‚ yet?’ Tahir asked.
‘They’re just kids!’ I said. ‘What’s the rush?’
‘It’s better that he knows that Naaim has no untoward intentions towards his daughter‚’ Tahir said. ‘If he was to find out another way...’ Tahir shook his head. ‘He should know‚ that’s all.’
I was getting bored with this conversation. I shrugged‚ glancing at the time on my phone. There’s worse things happening around the world than boy meets girl‚ parents don’t understand drama‚ and we’d heard all about this particular saga in recent weeks. I’d never met Layla‚ but the way that Naaim harped on about her‚ I felt like I could write a dissertation on her.
Layla Shah‚ I now knew‚ was a homely Pakistani girl‚ as halal as a cucumber. I’ve known plenty of girls like that – strictly Muslim at home‚ but as soon as they step out of that environment‚ they transform into Beyoncé. And I’m talking about Crazy in Love Beyoncé!
But I don’t think Layla was like that.
Her Mum had been out of the picture since a while back‚ so it fell to Layla‚ from a very early age‚ to take on the household responsibilities – pandering to the needs of her strict father and over protective brother‚ whilst balancing her studies and her dedication to Islam. The last thing she needed in her life was complication. But complication came‚ in the form of Naaim.
They’d met at school‚ both studying for the same papers – Naaim’s a year older but he had spectacularly failed his exams the year before. She started to help him study‚ every day in the romantic setting of the school library – knees touching under the desk‚ you get the picture. Anyway‚ shit happens‚ and they got close‚ like proper close. Their relationship moved fast‚ they talked marriage‚ even went as far as to discuss what they would name their kids. Fuck‚ man‚ they’re only teenagers!
On top of which‚ Naaim is Bangladeshi‚ and Layla‚ Pakistani.
Paki relationships which haven’t been sanctioned by parents are‚ at best‚ a fucking minefield. Throw another colour‚ creed or religion into the mix and it’s just asking for a slap.
Yeah‚ there wasn’t going to be a happy ending to this story.
I yawned. I didn’t even attempt to hold back‚ it came out like the roar of a lion who desperately wanted to Netflix and Chill.
‘I’m beat. I’m gonna call it a night‚’ I said.
But before I could bounce‚ the door behind me creaked open and Naaim stepped through and stood at the door looking suitably intense and lovesick – and I sighed under my breath and decided to stick around long enough to say wha’s up and then be on my way before he unloaded with another episode of the ongoing saga.
Naaim crossed the short distance‚ as Tahir greeted him with a Salaam and a smile‚ and pulled a chair into the circle. Naaim sat down heavily and looked passively into the distance.
I swear to God‚ the fucking drama!
‘Naaim‚’ Ira said‚ ‘been calling you for time. Everything alright?’
‘Yeah‚ you all good‚ Bruv?’ Zafar asked.
‘Brother‚ can I get you a cup of tea? We’re all out of biscuits‚ I’m afraid‚’ Tahir added.
Unlike me‚ whose relationship with this lot began and ended within the four walls of the centre‚ the four of them were tight. They’d met here but looked out for each other outside of Heston Hall Community Centre. I’d go as far as to say they were friends‚ with Tahir‚ older‚ been and seen thirty‚ playing the mentor figure.
‘I’m going to shoot‚’ I said‚ getting to my feet. ‘Catch you all next week.’
‘Naaim?’ Ira said‚ ignoring me. ‘What’s happened?’
Tahir‚ sensing all was not well‚ said‚ ‘Take your time‚ Brother. There’s no rush.’ Not what I would have said considering the hour.
Naaim closed his eyes tightly and we all watched as a tear escaped and slowly rolled down his face. His shoulders shook and shuddered and then it was open season as Naaim exploded into tears.
I knew then that I wasn’t getting home any time soon. Just to feel useful‚ I fetched a glass of water and a box of Kleenex and placed it by his chair. Ira had knelt down in front of him‚ holding his hand. Zafar was standing close by‚ at a loss‚ not quite knowing what to do. I sat back down and waited patiently in my seat for Naaim to tell us about the next brick wall that he and Layla had no doubt walked into. The seriousness of what he was about to reveal started to dawn on me when I noticed his quivering hand reach for the glass of water.
‘Let’s give the man some space‚’ Tahir said. Zafar sat back down‚ his eyes caught mine and we shrugged in tandem. Ira‚ who was still kneeling down in front of him‚ straightened up‚ pulled a chair close to Naaim‚ and sat down. She reached across and took his hand in hers.
Naaim nodded at the floor‚ took a deep breath‚ and shared a story of happiness that had been doomed from the start.
‘It was our first time meeting outside of school‚’ Naaim said‚ tear-soaked, balled-up tissues on the floor around his feet. ‘We’d just sat our final exams and I... I suggested that we should celebrate. It was my fault.’
His voice was soft. The others leaned in‚ apart from me. I kept my distance. My finger tap‚ tap‚ tapping away like a jackhammer on the seat of my chair‚ hoping that I could write off whatever was to come as kids play.
Ira squeezed his hand and smiled at him to continue.
‘Her father and her brother had made plans for her to celebrate the end of exams. When she told them that she wanted to go out and celebrate with her classmates‚ they said no. The first chance she had‚ she simply walked out knowing exactly what the consequences would be.
‘She’d told me that if she was able to make it‚ she’d be upstairs on the one-eleven bus. I waited at the stop‚ outside Chilli Chips like