Dishonour. Helen Black

today to conclude his investigations,’ said Lilly.

      ‘You’ve spoken to him?’ asked Anwar.

      ‘That’s why I’m here. I’m afraid the police won’t release Yasmeen’s body because they believe she was murdered.’

      There were a few seconds’ silence punctuated by the sound of Lilly’s pulse in her ears.

      ‘Murdered?’ Anwar whispered.

      Lilly nodded. ‘That’s what they believe.’

      There was more silence until Raffy let out a shocking roar. He pulled back his leg and kicked over the coffee table. Cups, plates and books scattered across the carpet. Saira screamed.

      ‘That can’t be right.’ Mohamed was also on his feet.

      ‘Of course it’s not right, Uncle,’ Raffy shouted. ‘Those racist bastards just want to torture us.’

      Anwar had his head in his hands. ‘This cannot be happening.’

      ‘Wake up, brother,’ Raffy screamed. ‘They hate us.’

      Saira had begun to weep, deep racking sobs from the depths of her belly.

      ‘You can’t let them get away with this,’ Mohamed said to Lilly.

      ‘I can’t stop a murder investigation,’ she replied.

      ‘Look at what they’re doing to this family.’ Mohamed opened his arms to encompass all the Khans.

      Lilly looked around her. Raffy was stalking from one end of the room to the other, crunching through the broken crockery. Saira continued to sob. Anwar sat with his face in his hands. Only Deema remained unmoved and untouched by the chaos around her.

      ‘I don’t understand,’ said Anwar, tears coursing down his cheeks. ‘Why would they do this to us?’

      ‘Because we are Muslims,’ screamed Raffy. ‘We’re the enemy.’

      Saira, still sobbing, got down on her knees and began to collect up the pieces of broken china.

      ‘For goodness’ sake, leave that, sis,’ said Raffy.

      ‘Someone might hurt themselves,’ she murmured, and continued to clear the shards.

      ‘I said fucking leave it,’ he snapped.

      Lilly tried to clear her head. This was all wrong. She’d feared the family would be devastated but not like this.

      ‘I truly don’t believe your religion has any bearing on this matter,’ she said.

      ‘Religion has a bearing on every matter,’ said Mohamed, a dangerous darkness in his tone.

      ‘Miss Valentine’s correct, of course.’

      Everyone turned to see a man in the doorway, his waspish frame incongruous in a charcoal pinstripe suit.

      He held out his police badge in front of him. ‘DI Bell,’ he said. ‘I don’t think you could hear me knocking.’

      Anwar stood to offer his hand. ‘I’m sorry for that.’

      ‘Don’t apologise to him,’ spat Raffy.

      DI Bell slid his badge into his breast pocket and looked Raffy up and down. A lone wolf, eyeing up his supper.

      ‘How can we help you, Inspector?’ asked Anwar.

      ‘I came to inform you that Yasmeen was murdered but I see Miss Valentine got here first.’

      ‘How can you be so sure?’ Mohamed asked Bell.

      ‘The only thing he’s sure of is that he wants to make our lives a misery,’ said Raffy.

      Bell’s lips formed a slight smile. ‘I can’t go into the evidence at this time.’

      ‘Because you don’t have any,’ said Raffy.

      Lilly could see that Raffy was pushing it too far. She might be able to excuse an angry grieving young man but DI Bell would not. If she didn’t defuse the situation he might get himself arrested for threatening behaviour.

      ‘Do you have a suspect?’ she asked.

      The inspector turned to her with unconcealed satisfaction. ‘Indeed I do.’

      ‘Who?’ demanded Raffy.

      DI Bell licked his lips, the proverbial cat who had got the cream.

      ‘Raffique Khan, I am arresting you for the murder of Yasmeen Khan. You do not have to say anything but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something you later rely on in court…’

      Jack parked outside Denleigh Secondary School. He drained a bottle of Evian and threw the empty plastic bottle over his shoulder. It landed on the back seat of his car amid fourteen others. Lilly kept nagging him to recycle them.

      He snorted. Lilly recycled everything. Bottles, tins, cereal packets—you couldn’t get into the cottage for bags and boxes of the stuff piled up in the hallway.

      ‘It’s like one of those strikes in the seventies,’ he’d complained one evening when he’d nearly broken his ankle trying to leap over a month’s worth of newspapers.

      ‘I’m just trying to make sure this baby has a planet left to live on,’ she’d said, pointing at her swelling belly.

      He’d laughed, like he always did. Said she was right, like he always did.

      He thought about all those Coke cans, milk cartons and unwanted Christmas cards being collected, crushed, cleaned and used again. Maybe more than once, maybe lots of times. Maybe the same tin got used again and again and again, each time filled with something different, last time beans, this time peas, next time, who knows? But it was the same tin going round and round.

      He knew how it felt. He’d been doing the same job for over ten years, living in the same flat, drinking in the same pubs. It was like Groundhog Day.

      He had tried so hard to change things and thought Lilly’s pregnancy might be just the catalyst. A fresh start for them both, a proper relationship. But no. He and Lilly were dancing the same dance they had always done.

      He’d met her years ago, when one of her clients had been caught nicking tins of sweets in Woolies. He’d thought she was gorgeous and had impressed her by giving the lad a fiver and letting him go. Her smile had been worth the bollocking he’d got from the shop manager and it had kept him warm throughout a Christmas dinner of beans on toast. Lilly’s admiration of Jack seemed to have gone the same way as Woolworths since then.

      She did what she felt she had to do, regardless of the consequences to him or his career. He wasn’t so stupid to think that if it wasn’t for Lilly he’d be in the murder team now, but she hadn’t helped.

      During his last review, which had taken place, unhelpfully, a week after he and Lilly had ‘lost’ one of her clients on the way to the immigration authorities, the chief super had confirmed what Jack already knew.

      ‘Your choice of girlfriend is not especially helpful.’

      And here they were again.

      Jack scratched his scalp and tried to remind himself that Lilly’s commitment to her work was one of the things that he had always admired. The children she represented had no one else. Often she was all that stood between them and Armageddon. A lone voice in the chaos. Had he really thought she’d stay quiet just because she was pregnant?

      He looked up at the sign at the school gate.

      No man is an Island.

      Together we are strong

      ‘Try telling that to Lilly bloody Valentine,’ he said aloud.

      The secretary’s hair was cropped so short, Jack could see patches of pink scalp peeping through. In fact, the hairs on her chin were longer.