Homegrown Hero: A funny and addictive thriller for fans of Informer. Khurrum Rahman

was disappointed in me for messing up his plans and it damn near broke my heart. I didn’t want to be that person. He’d been through enough heartache with his father.

      It was time to buck up my ideas. I’d been happy enough to be smothered by Khala‚ picking up freshly cooked meals that would last me the week‚ having my clothes washed and pressed‚ whilst living it up in that crummy flat that a student would have been ashamed of‚ blowing my not-that-great income on getting wasted with Shaz. And now I had to play the arranged marriage game‚ keep Rukhsana sweet‚ keep Khala sweet‚ keep dodging the consequences of telling them the truth. Making my life more complicated than necessary.

      When really‚ all I needed was right here.

      *

      Stephanie was watching a reality TV show‚ sat on one end of the sofa‚ perched forward with both feet planted on the floor as if she had just sat down and not yet got comfortable. I knew that she would’ve been at the bottom of the stairs listening in on my conversation with Jack. Checking to see how I handled him. I positioned the foot stool in front of her and lifted her legs on to it. I stretched out on the sofa and placed my head on her lap. I looked up at her. She was beautiful at any angle.

      ‘Let me guess‚’ she said. ‘Your Khala?’

      I smiled tightly. She ran her hand through my hair and waited for me to explain. I did‚ the lie coming easy to me. ‘Her arthritis was bad today. Actually it’s been like that for a while now. So I offered to do the weekly shop for her. I did text you.’

      ‘No‚’ she said‚ confidently‚ as though she’d checked her phone a thousand times. ‘You didn’t.’

      I slipped out my phone and scrolled to the text message that I had prepared earlier whilst I was at the Rishta. I frowned at it.

      ‘What is it?’ she asked of my troubled expression. I showed her the message. ‘You didn’t press send.’

      I exhaled as I pressed my forehead and I laid it on‚ lie after lie. ‘I’m so sorry‚ Steph‚ I was off my feet. After the grocery shop‚ she had me disassemble and take some old furniture up to the loft. Then she made me dinner afterwards and I couldn’t not stay. Seriously Steph‚ I thought I texted you.’

      We sat in silence for a moment‚ her eyes fixed on the television.

      ‘Imy‚’ she said.

      ‘Hmm‚’ I said‚ searching for holes in my lie.

      ‘You have to tell her.’

      ‘I know‚’ I said. ‘I will.’

      She stood up abruptly and my head slipped off her lap and bounced harmlessly on the seat. I sat up as Stephanie stood over me and I waited for her to let loose.

      ‘Imy‚ believe me‚ I don’t want to be the kind of girlfriend that questions your every action. I refuse to be one of those women. I fully understand that you have to think about your Khala‚ I know she’s like a mother to you. And‚ trust me‚ I know about your culture. But you can’t hide this‚ us‚ from her any longer. She doesn’t deserve that‚ Imy. We don’t deserve it. We’re not your dirty little secret!’

      I opened my mouth‚ she lifted a finger before I could counter.

      ‘I need to know where this is going. You can’t just pick and choose to play the big family man whenever it suits you. It’s not fair on Jack.’

      ‘That’s not fair‚ Steph. You know how much I love –’

      ‘I know‚’ she said‚ her voice loud and abrupt. Her eyes travelled up to the ceiling‚ beyond which Jack slept. She waited for the inevitable.

      ‘Mummy.’ Jack’s muffled voice came back at her through the baby monitor that she still insisted on using.

      ‘When are you going to understand?’ she said‚ softly. ‘Love is not enough.’

      I heard her tired footsteps padding up the stairs. I looked up at the ceiling and I could just picture her‚ holding Jack in her arms‚ running her fingers down either side of his spine‚ rocking him gently back to sleep.

      I inhaled deeply and held it‚ then exhaled. I didn’t know how I could prove to Stephanie just how much she and Jack meant to me. They needed more; I needed to give them more. I needed to commit and show Stephanie what she and Jack truly meant to me.

      My eyes moved around the room until they landed on a small ball of play-dough.

      I went upstairs and entered Jack’s room. Through the sheets that made up the walls of the camp‚ I could see their joint silhouette. I crouched down and crawled through the makeshift cushioned entrance. Jack smiled at me over Stephanie’s shoulder.

      ‘Room for one more?’ I said‚ knocking my shoulder on a chair leg and almost bringing down the whole structure. Jack separated himself from his Mum and we all sat‚ legs crossed‚ in a tight triangle within the camp.

      I nodded at them both‚ grinning stupidly. They both looked at me with curiosity‚ and then at each other. It wasn’t exactly Paris‚ but I could not care less. The romantic setting of the Eifel Tower had nothing on this beautifully crafted kid’s camp‚ splattered with toys and comic books‚ put together by a five-year-old.

      It was the perfect setting.

      I winked at Jack and then I took hold of Stephanie’s hand. I dug into the top pocket of my shirt and pulled out a play-dough ring.

      ‘Stephanie‚’ I said. ‘Will you marry me?’

      That night we all moved out of camp and into Stephanie’s bedroom and‚ with Jack in the middle‚ we spent the night there. It was‚ quite possibly‚ the happiest I had ever been.

      From downstairs‚ as I was drifting off to sleep‚ I heard my phone alerting me to a notification.

15

       Derelict Building Site, South London

      Kramer stopped at the entrance of the Portakabin on the old construction site‚ the fluorescent light from the room in front of him blazing into the night. He leaned his bulk against the doorframe and watched silently as two coppers spoke with his partner.

      Dean Kramer and Terry ‘The Cherry’ Rose‚ as he was affectionately known‚ had run together since their days with the Millwall Bushwackers‚ a football hooligan firm who’d been particularly nasty at the height of their powers in the eighties. Dishing out some of the worst ultra-violence during and after matches. Kramer was especially fond of the Millwall Brick‚ a weapon fashioned from newspaper sheets tightly wrapped around coins and soaked in liquid to add weight. A string was attached at the bottom to enable the swing of the Brick‚ and a large nail attached to the top to enable sickening damage.

      Kramer was the force‚ whereas Rose had the intelligence – enough to realise that the road they were on would only see them in jail or in a box. So he convinced Kramer to move away and join a movement which shared their beliefs. They were the English Defence League and their primary focus was opposition to what it considered the spread of Islamism in the United Kingdom. They finally had a place in a society that breathed and believed like they did.

      It was only when a young off-duty British soldier was murdered in 2013‚ by two Muslims in the streets of South London – in fucking broad daylight – that their association with the EDL had come to an abrupt end. Kramer wanted revenge‚ quick and painful; he wanted to start a riot in the heart of the Muslim Community in Luton and take them down‚ every last one of them.

      EDL had planned sixty demonstrations across the country. A lot of noise and not enough action. They had become too big‚ too political‚ too