Читать книгу East of Hounslow: A funny, clever and addictive spy thriller, shortlisted for a CWA Dagger 2018 - Khurrum Rahman, Khurrum Rahman - Страница 12

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Let me tell you something about Muslims. And I’m talking about the majority here. Despite the contrary belief‚ we are a patient‚ tolerant and sincere bunch. We integrate with those around us. Really‚ we don’t care if you’re black‚ white‚ Jew‚ Christian‚ straight‚ gay‚ or a pre-op drag queen; we will sit with you and break bread with you. On Christmas Day we’ll eat a halal chicken with all the trimmings whilst watching the Queen’s Speech‚ and we’ll overdose on chocolate eggs at Easter. Some places in England don’t fully celebrate St George’s Day because it may offend Muslims. That is the biggest load of bullshit I have ever heard. You don’t see us backing away when it comes to celebrating Eid‚ or the Hindus secretly cowering away in the corner when it’s Diwali. No‚ we give it full throttle and we go at it with gusto. The trouble is‚ it’s always the minority opinion that makes the waves. That’s what is printed and spewed out on the news with bells and whistles added for effect‚ with talking heads‚ fucking so called experts‚ adding to the propaganda. It’s sensationally sensationalised sensationalism.

Truly‚ most of us‚ we don’t care. Celebrate away. Fly that flag.

That is exactly what happened at Ali’s diner. Yes‚ we were angry. But actually going out there and carrying out the revenge‚ the act‚ it’s not going to happen‚ not by the majority anyway. But there are always one or two or three‚ and it’s these idiots that will make the news‚ fuel the gossip and form public opinion‚ putting us back to square one where we have to keep explaining ourselves – we’re not all like that‚ it’s the fucking minority!

It’s by this token‚ you shouldn’t be surprised to hear‚ that Khan and Parvez were standing outside Ali’s Diner‚ in the biting cold‚ planning and plotting revenge. The rest of them stayed in the warmth and listened as Shariff collectively and peacefully tried to find a way to put a foot forward. I had other things on my mind. I had to get back to my car and make sure all the money I’d collected was collated in rubber bands just as Silas liked. I thought maybe I would take a walk after‚ as the fried chicken was sitting heavy on my heart. I just didn’t want to be sitting in Ali’s anymore. I walked out and Khan and Parvez turned expectantly. I greeted them with raised eyebrows.

‘Anybody else coming?’ Parvez asked.

‘No‚ man. They’re all inside. Shariff is holding court‚ ain’t no one coming‚’ I said. ‘Where are The Twins?’

‘Gone. Early start tomorrow‚’ Khan said. ‘They both have job interviews in the morning.’

‘Oh. Right. So that’s that then‚’ I said‚ with an air of what I hoped was finality. Parvez looked hopefully at Khan and I could just picture the chimps in Khan’s head trying to come to a decision.

‘No‚’ Khan said. ‘That’s not that. Fuck The Twins and fuck the weak-ass Pakis in there. We don’t need them. It’s just us… The three of us.’

Khan and Parvez bumped fists.

‘Hang on a minute! No fucking way‚ man. You both do whatever the hell you want. Don’t get me involved.’

Khan zipped up his nineties leather jacket with a disappointed shake of his head. I watched it slide over his growing belly.

‘Come on‚ Brother‚’ Parvez said to me. ‘We can’t let this go unpunished. We’re relying on you.’ He had this determined look in his eyes‚ a look that was new to me. It didn’t suit him. I was concerned that Khan was going to get him beaten up‚ or worse. ‘They disrespected the Masjid‚ Jay. We can’t let them get away with that. Right‚ Khan?’

‘Leave it out‚ Parvez. He ain’t coming‚’ Khan said. ‘Bunch of pussy holes‚ that’s what your generation is.’

‘Parvez‚ a word‚ please‚’ I requested.

‘Anything you want to say‚ Brother‚ you can say—’

‘Fuck’s sake‚ Parvez. Come here for a minute.’

Parvez looked to Khan for instruction and Khan‚ after giving me an arrogant smile‚ nodded acquiescently. I moved a few steps away and waited under a dimly lit lamp post. Parvez followed suit and stood in front of me. No‚ stood is wrong. He was excitedly‚ or nervously – probably the former – hopping around from one foot to the other. He either wanted to go toilet or he was just hyped up‚ probably the latter.

‘Parvez. Are you sure about this? This is not you‚ man.’

‘No‚ this is me‚ Jay‚ and this is you. This is all of us. I am sick and tired of being targeted. Personally and as a religion. Allah knows I try to be patient‚ bite my tongue and curb my anger. But with Khan behind me‚ I know we can hit them. Hard. Send a message‚ yes?’

Parvez the Preacher. Parvez the Pacifist. Now Parvez the Psycho. Drunk on a few meaningless words from a meaningless thug who he fucking idolised. I wanted to grab him by his Primark shirt lapels and shake the dumb out of him but I knew that would not make a touch of difference.

‘You’re sure about this?’ I asked

He stopped hopping for a moment and looked me right in the eyes. ‘I’m sure‚ Brother‚’ he said. ‘C’mon‚ Jay. Let’s do this. We have to be proactive in the war against terror. They think that they can—’

‘Parvez‚ shut-up for a second‚’ I interrupted. I had never heard the phrase war against terror used in the reverse context. It made me wonder. ‘And can you stop fucking hopping around for a minute and let me think?’

‘But Jay‚ we—’

‘Let’s go‚ Parvez.’ This time the interruption came from Khan. Parvez looked at me with expectant eyes.

I expelled air and said: ‘I’m coming too.’