In My Sister's Shadow-Book II

1: Moving Out

"Row, row, row your boat-" My voice echoed in the empty living room. With Ayaan on my lap, I held his hands and swayed him forward and back singing the song in melancholy. It was the end of an era, my sister's house, the house she made memories, shared dreams and hopes, now an empty shell.

Ayaan knew something was wrong, he couldn't speak or relay his feelings. All I had was a song that meant nothing to him.

".....gently down the stream, merrily, merrily, merrily. Life is but a dream."

Holding my beautiful boy against my chest, I kissed his forehead and promised.
"Everything will be all right."
But who was I kidding, even my voice shook. I was terrified of the future. I didn't know where we were going. We simply packed our life in a box ready to follow Zayn. Whenever I asked Zayn where he was taking us, he would grunt in reply telling me to trust him.

After meeting Kash, I was trapped in a quandary. Could he be lying? Everything he said about Zayn seemed plausible. I had suspicions about Zayn when he first interrupted Zeenat's funeral. It was me, who phoned the police and convened my suspicions.

So, after I met Kash, I made an appointment with Gloryanne Griffiths, the social worker. I wanted to tell her my fears, my suspicions and I knew she would do something.

"You said Zayn was a good dad." She asked sternly.

"Yes, that was before-" I paused. Should I tell her about Kash?

"What is happening with your house? You said it was going to be repossessed." Gloryanne shuffled through the stack of files on her desk searching for something.

"We're moving."

"Where?" She asked poking her head into the desk's first drawer.

"He hasn't told me."

"We need to know. Are you moving out of the city?" She lifted her index finger indicating me to pause and answered her vibrating mobile. Her eyes fixed with mine, it was clear she was concentrating on her call. She stood up and paced around her desk and sat down. Now she was haggard. She scratched her forehead.

"I wish people would just say if they can't do something." She vented. "Anyway, where were we?"

She probably wanted us to move away so she could transfer our file, a headache out of her desk.

"I think Zayn hits the kids."

Now I had her attention.

"When?"

"Um...before."

"What day? What time?"

I scratched my head trying to remember something.

"He..um-"

"What did he hit them with? Who did he hit?"

Her questions came thick and fast and I had no time to respond. My mind went blank.

"Listen, Mrs Qiyani." She leaned forward. "I understand you are having difficulties with your house. We see many couples accusing the other without evidence."

"No-it's not that."

I'd lost her. She was back trawling through her files.

"Let us know where you move to-"

That's where our conversation ended, and she left me tending to her phone call. She wanted evidence. If that failed, she would interrogate the children and they couldn't lie. It was in my hands now. If I suspected something, I had to collect the evidence.