East of Hounslow - Khurrum Rahman Jay Qasim

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okay!’ Then quietly he hissed‚ ‘Please.’

      Parker released his ear just as quickly as he had grabbed it. He turned to the sink and calmly washed his face. He dried off using the paper towels and walked out of the toilet without giving Lawrence a second look.

      The minicab pulled up outside our house‚ or‚ I should say‚ my house‚ about mid-morning. I started to lug Mum’s suitcases into the boot as she rushed around the house‚ room to room‚ saying goodbye to all the furniture and all the things she held dear. I slammed the boot shut and the cabbie gave me a deathly stare. I put up an apologetic hand to him‚ just as Idris walked around the corner.

      ‘Don’t you check your fucking voicemail?’ Idris barked before he had even reached me.

      ‘The fuck is your problem?’ I said‚ matching profanity for profanity.

      Idris and I had only ever argued the one time‚ when a chilli eating competition got out of hand. But if he wanted an argument now‚ then I was ready to give him one.

      ‘I’ve been trying to reach you‚ Jay‚’ he said as he got closer. He noticed the minicab. ‘What’s going on? Where you going?’

      ‘To the airport. Mum’s leaving today.’

      ‘Oh shit!’ Idris exclaimed. ‘That’s today? I knew that. I fucking knew that. Mum did tell me.’

      I had never seen Idris so rattled‚ as though all his cool had left him. Mum walked out of the house looking like a seventies Bollywood starlet. White flared trouser suit teamed with huge oversized dark sunglasses‚ holding a midsize black leather travel bag.

      ‘Why don’t you come along? See Mum off‚’ I asked. ‘And then maybe you can tell me what’s on your mind.’

      Idris looked towards Mum‚ who was waving happily at him‚ and it seemed like his brain had just rebooted as he walked over to her. He gave her a customary peck on the cheek‚ effortlessly liberated the travel bag and linked arms with her as he escorted her smiling to the waiting minicab.

      Okay‚ so maybe not all his cool had left him.

      *

      We were sat at a Sports Bar in Terminal 2 at Heathrow‚ Idris opposite me as we waited in silence for our lunch to arrive. Mum and Andrew were now airside‚ no doubt stocking up on Duty Free goods. It was‚ as expected‚ an emotional farewell. Mum’s white suit had ended up stained with a mixture of her mascara‚ my snot and both of our tears. I hadn’t felt any shame sobbing my heart out in front of Idris‚ who had just about managed to hold it together himself.

      ‘So‚ what do you think of Andrew?’ I asked.

      ‘Yeah‚ he’s alright‚’ Idris answered‚ absent minded‚ his eyes flitting all over the place before landing on mine. ‘They seem good together.’

      An Arab couple walked into the Sports Bar‚ the wife was covered from head to toe in a Burka. In a heartbeat‚ the tension in the room become palpable and the din died down for a millisecond and then started up again.

      ‘Poor bastards‚’ I said. ‘Do you reckon they ever get used to that?’

      Idris didn’t seem to hear me. The food arrived‚ a Full English Breakfast‚ minus the scum. I tucked straight into it.

      ‘Jay?’ Idris said‚ ignoring his food.

      ‘Yeah‚’ I said‚ with a mouthful of hash brown.

      ‘Look‚ I don’t want to freak you out.’

      ‘Well‚ don’t then.’

      I smiled. He smiled. But only briefly before his expression turned to dour again.

      ‘I’m serious‚ Jay.’

      I looked at my meal longingly‚ and then hesitantly I put down my knife and fork. I took a sip of my orange juice and placed my glass down on the table.

      ‘What’s bothering you?’

      ‘I think they’re coming for you‚’ Idris said‚ rubbing his forehead.

      ‘Why do you say that?’ I asked‚ as controlled as I could‚ when everything in me wanted to scream a thousand questions.

      ‘It’s just something that happened at work.’

      ‘Like what?’

      ‘My chief had me in her office.’

      ‘Oh‚ did she now?’

      ‘She showed me some photos of us together in your car‚’ he said‚ rightly ignoring my childish remark.

      ‘In my Beemer?’

      ‘No‚ your Nova.’

      ‘So?’ I said‚ trying to remember anything untoward that had happened in my Nova that would have cause to be flagged.

      ‘You were doing a deal.’

      ‘Yeah‚ I remember that. A few weeks back‚ yeah?’ I said‚ and then realisation hit me. ‘And you were in the car with me?’ Idris nodded. ‘Oh‚ shit! Did you get fucked? Is that what this is about?’

      ‘Yeah‚ I did‚ but—’

      ‘God. I’m sorry‚ man. I didn’t fucking know. How much trouble are you in? Can they prove that it was a deal? I could have been passing anything.’

      ‘No‚ Jay‚ shut up for a second. This isn’t about me getting the hairdryer.’ Idris leaned in and lowered his voice. ‘It’s about them watching you.’

      ‘What do you mean watching me? I haven’t done anything wrong! Nothing that warrants surveillance‚ anyway.’

      ‘I know that‚ Jay. If they were going to arrest you for your nickel-and-dime bullshit dealing they would have pulled you over‚ searched your car and hauled your ass down the station. This is something else.’

      I looked down at my food. It didn’t look too appetising anymore. ‘Idris‚’ I said‚ tentatively. ‘The attack on the mosque. Last Friday. Do you remember?’

      ‘Yeah‚ course.’

      ‘Do you remember I told you about that meeting at Ali’s?’

      ‘Yeah‚’ Idris said‚ his eyes narrowed‚ as he tried to follow my thought process.

      ‘Do you remember—’

      ‘Can you stop saying that‚ for Gods sake‚ I’m not fucking senile‚’ Idris said‚ loud enough for a few patrons to crane their heads in our direction. ‘Go on.’ He lowered his voice. ‘You were in Ali’s. So? What happened?’

      ‘I ended up with Parvez and Khan.’

      ‘Khan?’ Idris said‚ rubbing his face again. ‘What the hell were you thinking?’

      ‘Alright‚ calm down‚ man. You’re getting loud again.’

      Idris sat back in his chair and crossed him arms and motioned for me to carry on. ‘We got into a dust up with some white boys in Staines. I tooled one of them… Pretty fucking badly. But he was alright… I think‚’ I said‚ sheepishly. ‘Do you reckon that’s what it’s about?’

      ‘No… I don’t know… It could be.’

      ‘Yeah‚ well‚ thanks for clearing that up‚ Detective.’

      ‘Look. What do we know for a fact? They’ve been watching you for at least a few weeks‚ right?’

      ‘So they can’t be after me because of the fight. That only happened last week.’

      I

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