With that simple singing of ‘Happy Birthday’, was there suddenly a glimmer of hope around the corner? Whenever he’d tried to sing before, the words had jammed fast in his throat. Yet today the sound had flooded his chest with a feeling that he thought had been long gone. He felt the notes resonate in his blood, his muscles, his heart. And that was a couple of lines of the worst, dirge-like song on the planet. He tried to imagine what it would be like if he tried to sing a whole song again, something that he loved. One of his own. Could he do it? These days he was so unused to even speaking to people that he often found a few sentences of conversation quite taxing. Would he be able to manage a whole song? The thought both frightened and thrilled him.
And what about his new lodger? Ayesha Rasheed. Yesterday he hadn’t given her a second glance. Had written her off as a plain, mousy little thing. But tonight… What had happened there? She looked so different. Like a dull, desiccated moth transformed into a vibrant, pretty butterfly.
When he looked at her, his mouth had gone dry and he could feel his heart banging inside his chest. It was all he could do to take his eyes off her. And it wasn’t simply the fact that she’d put on some make-up or prettier clothes. It was as if years of pain were starting to lift from her face and he knew how that felt.
When she looked back at him, she still seemed so frightened. From what little Crystal had said, the woman had been through an awful time. Plus she had a traumatised kid in tow. In one way or another they were all damaged people, and it would serve him very well to remember that.
Chapter Twenty-one
I’m beginning to feel more comfortable with the music, enjoying the unaccustomed loosening of my body. I twirl around, almost carefree. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I see the silhouette of a man framed in the doorway.
My heart leaps to my throat. For a moment I wonder if it’s Suresh come to take me home and I’m rooted to the spot with terror. But as the man steps forward from the shadows I realise it’s Hayden Daniels. However, his face still looks dark, menacing in the low light, and I feel myself shrivel in front of him.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ he says tightly.
‘I hope you don’t mind me using the living room,’ I answer, struggling to find my voice. ‘Crystal seemed to think that it would be all right.’
‘The music.’ He nods to the iPod. ‘What are you doing playing my music?’
‘It was quiet,’ I offer. ‘And I was feeling a little lonely.’ My heart is beating nervously and my mouth has gone dry. I’ve made him angry. ‘It’s a beautiful song.’
At once he strides across the room and reaches out. I fear that he’s going to strike me and instinctively I drop to the floor and curl in on myself as I’ve learned to do. When the blow comes it will first hit bone rather than soft flesh. Ashamed of my weakness, I cower against the leg of the piano. If I could, I’d crawl under it.
Instead the music clicks off and, though I brace myself for a punch or a kick, it doesn’t come.
Hayden stands over me. His eyes glitter in the darkness and I hide my face again. ‘Why are you on the floor?’ he says, astounded.
He reaches for my arm and I flinch away from him.
‘Ayesha.’ He speaks softly now. ‘Ayesha, get up. I’m not going to hurt you.’
How many times have I heard this promise? I stay where I am.
‘Please.’ He sits down next to me on the floor and leans against the piano stool. I hear his breath in a ragged exhalation. ‘I’m sorry. So sorry.’
Slowly dropping my hands from my head, I risk a glance at him. He looks wretched.
‘I didn’t mean to shout, or to frighten you,’ he insists. ‘I was just shocked.’ Another uncertain breath. ‘I never listen to my own music. I can’t bear it. I haven’t since… since a long time ago.’
‘Since your girlfriend’s been gone.’
‘Yes.’ I see the pain written on his face. ‘More than two years ago.’ I see the glisten of a tear on his cheek. ‘It doesn’t seem to get any easier though.’
Hesitantly, I uncurl and sit on the floor next to him, hugging my knees to me. Hayden doesn’t look as if he’ll be violent. He seems to be a man who’s sad and deflated. He must have loved her very deeply. ‘I’m very sorry that you’re so unhappy.’
‘Unhappy.’ He gives a hollow laugh. ‘Understatement of the century.’ Hayden shakes his head. ‘I’m like a man drowning and I don’t know what to do.’
‘But you have so much to live for. All of this.’ I sweep my hand to encompass all that I can. ‘And your beautiful music. It’s wonderful. It’s the first time I’ve heard it.’
He laughs again, but it sounds less troubled. ‘You must be the only person on the planet who hasn’t.’
‘I wasn’t permitted to listen to music,’ I venture. ‘I’ve missed a lot.’
‘I’ve always taken it for granted, I suppose. Then I couldn’t face it. There was too much emotion in the songs. When I joined in with the singing earlier, it’s the first time I’ve done that since Laura went.’
‘Crystal told me that.’
Hayden risks a smile. ‘Good old Crystal.’
We sit in a silence marked only by the sound of us both breathing in and out.
‘You have an incredible voice,’ I offer eventually. ‘I’m so sorry that you no longer feel able to sing.’
‘Perhaps I’ve turned a corner. It felt good,’ he admits. ‘To hear it again.’ His breath is shuddering and I feel it’s an effort for him to talk. ‘First, when Laura went, I didn’t want to do it. As time went on, I didn’t know if I could still do it, and then that scares you even more.’
‘It must be very frightening.’
‘Yes.’ He sounds unbearably sad.
‘I wonder if this is how my daughter feels.’
‘It must be very worrying that she doesn’t talk.’
‘I’d very much love to hear her voice again. That would mean the world to me.’
‘It’s not impossible,’ he says. ‘If an old fool like me can turn it around, then I have every hope for your lovely child.’
I smile at him. ‘I hope that you’re right.’
‘So, Ayesha Rasheed, are we going to sit on the floor all night or should one of us get up and make a cup of tea? That’s actually what I came downstairs to do.’
‘I’ll make it,’ I say. I feel that I want to offer this broken man what small comfort I can.
He stands, then reaches out to take my hand and helps me up from the floor. For a moment, he holds it tightly as we face each other. ‘While you live here, under my roof, you and Sabina have nothing to fear.’
‘Thank you,’ I say. I would like to believe that. Really I would.
Chapter Twenty-two
I make a pot of tea and bring it back to the living room along with two mugs. Setting it down on the coffee table in front of Hayden, I fuss with pouring it. I’m uncomfortable being alone with a man, as I’d never have been allowed to do this in my previous life, but I’m trying to fight the feeling. I’m not that person now, I assure myself. I have my hair loose, I’m wearing modern clothes, and now it’s just Hayden and me together. I feel both proud of myself and anxious. Change, in my case, is of course for the good, but possibly I’m doing too much too soon.
Hayden picks up the book I’ve left beneath the reading lamp and studies it. ‘Bridget Jones?’
‘I hope that it’s all right for me to borrow this book.’
‘It was Laura’s favourite,’ he says, turning it in his hands. ‘She used to sit here giggling away.’
‘It’s a funny book?’
He looks up at me. ‘You haven’t read it?’
I hang my head. ‘No,’ I admit. ‘I don’t read or write very well, but I’m trying to learn along with Sabina. I can happily read books for her age. We help each other.’
He waves Bridget Jones’s Diary at me. ‘This might be a big step up.’
‘I’d hoped to find out about modern women.’
br /> Hayden laughs, but it’s not a cruel sound. ‘I’m not sure you’ll want dear old Bridget as your role model, but I think the book will make you smile.’
‘I hope so.’ I feel that I’d like some lightness in my heart.
He looks as if he’s weighing something heavily before he speaks. ‘I could help you too,’ he says. ‘We can read it together in the evenings. If you like.’
The thought makes my heart quicken and I’m not sure whether it’s with anxiety or anticipation.
‘I’d like that.’ I’m hesitant. ‘But I may be embarrassed by my lack of education.’
‘If we work on your reading and writing, then you won’t have to be.’
‘Although I’m very good at both reading and writing in my native tongue,’ I add hastily, in case he thinks that I’m simple.
He looks at me with sadness in his eyes. ‘It won’t make me think less of you, if that’s what you’re worried about. In fact, I consider you a very brave woman to be striking out on your own.’
‘I feel brave,’ I tell him. ‘And also very frightened.’
‘You’re among friends now, Ayesha. I hope you know that.’
‘I don’t think that Joy likes me.’
‘Joy doesn’t like anyone,’ he says wryly. ‘She’s been through some tough times. Now she’s damaged like the rest of us.’
‘This is a house of broken hearts.’
‘Perhaps we can all help each other to mend.’
I nod.
‘Did you have a tough time with your husband?’ Hayden takes his tea. ‘Tell me to mind my own business, if you don’t want to talk about it.’
‘I wasn’t in a good place,’ I answer. ‘I had to leave for the sake of my daughter.’
‘It can’t have been easy for either of you.’
I have no visible bruises at the moment but self-consciously I check that my arms are covered, as I’m used to doing.
‘I’m hoping that now we’re away from the situation, that Sabina will feel able to speak again.’
‘Have you taken her to a specialist?’
‘Yes,’ I say. ‘Only once. They said that she has selective mutism and wanted to give her treatment. My husband wouldn’t allow it. He said that she was like her mother and merely being difficult.’
‘We could organise treatment, if that’s what you want.’
I shake my head. ‘She’s been through so much. For now, I don’t want doctors to prod and poke her. All I want is for her to feel free to be a child and to be happy. I hope that will be enough.’ I brush away the tears that fill my eyes. ‘She was a chatterbox, my daughter. Funny and bright. My husband may not have physically abused her, but he has beaten the life out of her nevertheless.’
‘It’s over,’ Hayden assures me. ‘You’ve made the break.’
‘I have.’ I allow myself a smile.
‘What do your family think?’
‘They don’t know yet,’ I confess. ‘My mummy and daddy are at home in Sri Lanka and I haven’t seen them for many years. I write to them regularly, but I haven’t been honest with them. They think I’m a happily married woman, in love with the husband they chose for me.’
‘That’s hard.’
‘They didn’t know that he’d turn out to be an unkind man. When they arranged for me to come England to be married, they thought they were doing their best for me. Suresh’s family seemed very earnest and sincere. When I met Suresh I thought that he would be a good husband. There was no one suitable for me to marry in the village where I lived. Perhaps I would have become an old maid there. All they wanted was to give me a new and exciting beginning. At first, it was. Since then, I’ve always written to them to tell them that my marriage is wonderful and that I’m happy. I’ve never told them of my difficulties. What could they do, so far away? I don’t like to feel that I’ve failed them by making a bad marriage. Suresh would only allow me to write to them once a month and he read all of my letters before they were sent. I didn’t want to waste my precious correspondence by complaining. They’re unaware that I’ve spent many years in fear for my life, or that their granddaughter has been struck dumb with fear.’
‘Could you go home to them? Get away completely?’
I shake my head. ‘I’ve no money. No passport.’ Before I left, I searched for it, but I couldn’t find where Suresh had hidden it. ‘I don’t think that I could go back.’
‘I’m sure they’d understand.’
‘I couldn’t be a burden to them.’ My parents have very little money and live in a small fishing village. Could I return to that? They’re old now and would be humiliated that their arrangement had gone so wrong, even though it wasn’t their fault. If I had older brothers to look after me then it might be different, but my mummy and daddy had only daughters, who must rely on their husbands. I don’t think my brother-in-law would want to take in an errant sister and her child. I also want Sabina to be well educated, to go to university one day – Oxford or Cambridge, even. That’s my dear hope. It could be that our best chance of a bright future for her is to stay here in England.
‘So what now, Ayesha Rasheed?’
I push my troubling thoughts away and smile at Hayden. ‘Now I’d like to learn how to read Bridget Jones’s Diary so that I can get a good job and keep my child safe.’
‘That sounds like an excellent plan,’ Hayden agrees. So he opens the book and pats the sofa next to him.
I look at this man. Can I trust him to have my best interests at heart? It’s so soon since my flight from a cruel bully and I don’t know him at all. But, from what I’ve seen so far, I feel that he’s a kind person. He’s wounded. As am I.
Besides, I have no alternative arrangements.
Chapter Twenty-three
The next morning, I’m making breakfast for myself and Sabina when Hayden comes downstairs.
‘Hi.’ He waves a hand at both of us. ‘Can I join you?’
‘This is your home,’ I say. ‘It’s we who are joining you.’
He slides into a seat opposite Sabina and holds up a hand to her. ‘High five, birthday girl.’
She turns to me anxiously, but I nod to her in an encouraging manner. When she faces Hayden again, she tentatively holds up a hand to his and they touch palms. I think I see a glimmer of a shy smile at her lips, and my heart soars.
‘Can I make you some breakfast?’ I ask Hayden.
‘I don’t usually eat in the morning.’
It seems that he doesn’t eat much at all. ‘It’s the best meal of the day,’ I insist. ‘Life is easier to face with a full tummy.’
‘I’m sure you’re right.’
‘I’m making scrambled eggs for Sabina. Would you like some too?’
He hesitates again, thinking whether to turn down my offer. Then, with a reluctant smile, he says, ‘Just coffee and toast, please.’
So I put some more bread in the toaster. Next to come downstairs is Joy. She looks surprised to see the kitchen so busy, but it’s clear that she feels that she can’t back out now.
‘What are you doing down at this time of day, Hayden?’ she asks.
‘I had a great night’s sleep,’ he answers, sounding surprised. ‘I feel as if I could take on the world today.’
‘Well, that’s nice to hear.’
I’d second that, but I think it’s better for me to keep my opinion to myself. Instead I say, ‘Come and sit down, Joy. What can I get you?’
‘Has this place suddenly turned into a café?’ she mutters. ‘I only have a bit of yoghurt and fruit. I’m perfectly capable of getting it myself.’ However, she sits down next to Hayden, which I take as my cue to get it for her.
Sabina looks at her shyly from under her lovely dark lashes.
‘How are you today?’ Joy asks.
Sabina holds up a hand to high-five her and, with a confused laugh, Joy high-fives her back. I glance at Hayden, grateful that he’s given her this small method of communication. It’s clear that Sabina finds it amusing and I hope
it will increase her confidence to connect with her world once more.
Hayden’s toast pops up. I butter it, pour him some fresh coffee and deliver it to the table.
‘Thank you.’ He bites into the toast, grinning. ‘You know, I think I’m going to like you living here, Ayesha.’
Flushing, I then bustle to find Joy’s yoghurt and fruit in the fridge.
Last night Hayden and I spent an hour or more in the living room, starting to read Bridget Jones’s Diary together. Already, I think I’m going to like Bridget. She’s a very funny lady and I haven’t found the book as difficult to read as I’d imagined. Though I’ve learned some saucy English words that I never knew I would say!
I’m making slow progress, but Hayden seems to be a patient teacher and helped me to form the words that I didn’t know, like when I show Sabina. He seemed to find it all very amusing, but he never once made me feel silly or stupid. I hope that we’ll read some more together tonight, but as yet he’s not mentioned it and I don’t like to broach the subject.
‘There’s some stewed rhubarb in there,’ Joy says. ‘I’ll have that with the yoghurt.’ She tuts crossly. ‘You know, there’s really no need for me to sit here like an invalid. I always get my own breakfast.’
‘I’d like to spoil you,’ I say. ‘For making my daughter and me very welcome.’
She purses her lips at that and I see Hayden suppress a smile.
‘Humph,’ Joy says.
I warm the rhubarb in a pan and resist the urge to add some ginger or cinnamon, if I could find any, to liven it up.
‘Is this from the garden?’ I ask as I set it down for her.
‘Yes. I’ve got a raised bed and like to keep it going for as much of the year as I can.’
‘I’d like it very much if you’d show me around the garden,’ I say to her. It looks abundant with greenery and reminds me of the small patch my parents tended at home, which was lush with plants and fruits. ‘I’m not a gardener, but I have a keen interest in cookery. We could work together to make the best use of the produce. If you’d like that.’