Huda and Me Read online

  ‘Mama, it’s me. Huda.’

  With that, it’s like the spell is broken. Mum falls to the kitchen floor and wraps her arms around us. Huda sobs, Mum holds us, I stand there taking in Mum’s warmth, and Jido watches, smiling, from the end of the bed.

  Mum pulls away and holds both of our faces in her hands. She shakes her head, confused.

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  Before we can answer, she asks another question.

  ‘How did you get here?’

  And another.

  ‘Who brought you here?’

  And then a million more.

  ‘Where are your brothers and sisters? Is everything okay? Where’s Aunt Amel? Did something happen?’

  Huda is silent, except for the occasional whimper. A door from the other side of the room creaks open. Even though it’s dim, looking up, I know it’s my dad.

  He rubs his eyes. ‘What’s all the noise? Are you okay?’ Dad hasn’t noticed us.

  I clear my throat. ‘Baba, it’s us.’

  Dad stands frozen. His eyes dart around to each of us. Then he focuses on Mum but points at us.

  ‘Are they our kids?’ he stutters.

  Mum nods. Dad’s eyes dart back to us and his face bursts into a huge smile as he charges over.

  He grabs Huda and picks her up, holding her face to his chest. My sister’s legs dangle and flop about as he wraps his arms tightly around her, swinging her around and kissing the top of her head. Then he lowers her to the floor and reaches over to me, pulling me into his and Huda’s cuddle. I could hug him forever.

  He draws away and gazes at our faces. He’s still beaming.

  ‘Dad, we’re happy to be here with you but …’ I don’t know how to say it.

  I look over at my mum. I know she already knows it’s not good news.

  ‘Tell us what’s happened,’ she whispers.

  ‘Bad stuff happened,’ I say. ‘It might still be happening. We had to run away.’

  Huda nods and shivers.

  ‘Where are your brothers and sisters? Are they safe?’ Mum’s words spill from her mouth.

  ‘Yes, we think they’re okay, if they kept doing exactly what Aunt Amel wanted after we left. Otherwise, we’re not sure.’

  The look on both Mum and Dad’s faces change.

  ‘What do you mean, doing exactly what Aunt Amel wanted?’ Dad asks.

  Huda finally speaks. ‘She made us her servants. She made us clean all day. She doesn’t let the twins go to school, so they can bake her cookies and serve her tea. Kholoud is Aunt Amel’s personal beautician, and Omar has to drive her around everywhere, even at night.’

  Mum’s eyes almost pop out of her head. ‘Amel? No, she would never—’

  ‘Yes, Mum. She would. And I have proof.’

  Huda drops her bag to the floor and rips open the front velcro pocket. She pulls out a bunch of small photos.

  ‘Mr Kostiki and I tried to call you a million times to tell you, but your phone wouldn’t work. So Mr Kostiki spied over the fence and took these.’

  The flashes. The flashes that I thought were lightning. They were from Mr Kostiki’s camera.

  Mum makes a small gasping sound when Huda passes the photos to her. She puts her hand over her mouth. Dad gets up and stands beside her, staring at the photos as Mum flicks through them. His eyes look like black marbles about to pop out of his head.

  I lean over and take a peek at what they’re looking at: Omar slumped over the steering wheel of Dad’s car, with Aunt Amel grinning next to him. Me drenched in rain, shovelling chicken poo in the dark. Huda standing on two crates hanging washing on the Hills hoist. Kholoud crying on the verandah, her mascara smeared around her eyes. Suha and Layla tossing empty bags of flour into the recycling bin.

  The last photo shows Aunt Amel carrying a green calico bag down the driveway. The bag has a red hand-drawn circle around it. I have to squint to see it – but there’s Raheed’s little head, poking out.

  I have to hand it to Huda – she’s made sure Mum and Dad have all the proof they need. No wonder she wasn’t worried about them not believing us, when I asked her about it on the plane.

  Mum’s hands are shaking. ‘Aunt Amel made you all do these things?’ she whispers.

  Huda nods.

  ‘How could she do this?’ Mum asks, but I know it’s not a question we can answer.

  Mum pulls us into her arms again and holds us. Dad keeps flicking through the photos, staring at each one again, his eyebrows creased.

  ‘She carried Raheed around like a sack of potatoes in that shopping bag?’ he asks us, shaking his head.

  ‘We saw him from the window before we left. He’s okay. Aunt Amel actually likes him,’ I say.

  ‘He’s the only one she likes,’ my sister adds.

  Mum takes a deep breath. Her eyes are darting back and forth between both of our faces. I can tell she’s thinking quickly. She looks up at Dad. He’s shaking his head, like he still can’t quite believe what he’s just seen and heard.

  ‘Need to call them!’ Dad suddenly blurts out. ‘Where’s the phone?’ And he bolts out of the room, through the door he just came from.

  There’s movement from the bed. I glance over and see my grandma has woken up. She says something to Mum, but I can’t make out what. Her voice is so soft, so frail, so gentle.

  I don’t know how Mum hears her question, but she does. ‘My children, Mama,’ she replies. Then she realises she’s spoken English and says it again in Arabic.

  Across the dim room, and despite my grandma’s deep wrinkles and exhausted eyes, I see a slight smile. She lifts one of her hands, carefully and with what looks like a lot of effort. She wants us to go to her. I’ve never seen someone so old before; I’ve never seen someone so sick before. It scares me a little, but I know this is my mum’s mum, and I know I love her already. I’d do anything to make her feel better.

  Huda doesn’t hesitate like me. She walks straight over and rests one of her hands on my grandma’s. With her other hand, she holds my grandma’s face – just the same as how Mum held us a moment ago. Huda strokes my grandma’s cheek.

  ‘Tayta, it’s me, Huda,’ she whispers.

  My grandma looks up at Huda but doesn’t say anything.

  I stand by the foot of the bed, beside my grandpa. I shift my feet, unsure what to do.

  ‘I’m sorry you’re unwell,’ Huda tells my grandma. ‘I will make dua to Allah that you feel better.’

  I wish I’d thought of that line. But as I stand there silently, I start making a dua that she’ll get better. Huda leans down and kisses my grandma on the head. Then she gently tucks a few loose grey hairs back into her scarf. I look over at Mum. Tears are streaming down her face.

  ‘This is Akeal, Tayta,’ Huda tells our grandma. Then she leans in really close to her ear and whispers something.

  Tayta chuckles. I bet Huda said something bad about me. My sister is back to her old tricks. I know it’s time to step forward, so I take a deep breath. I touch my tayta’s other hand, which is resting on her belly.

  ‘Tayta, ana Akeal.’ My grandma moves her head slightly to get a look at me. She smiles. Even though she’s wrinkly, tired and sick, I can tell she would have been beautiful when she was younger. She has the same smile as my mum.

  She says something, but I can’t make out what because it’s hard for her to get the words out. Her breaths are short; it’s like she’s struggling to get air. She begins to cough dryly, wincing as it takes over her body. My tayta is so thin and frail that I worry she might snap.

  Mum rushes to the sink and brings her a glass of water. She kneels beside the bed and lifts my tayta’s head to help her to take a sip. As the cough settles, Mum strokes her mum’s forehead.

  I now realise that my mum is the best at everything. She’s the best mum. Dad always says she’s the best wife. And now I know she’s the best daughter.

  Outwitted

  ‘Tayta needs to sleep, come on,’ Mum says to us. />
  Mum stands and tells Jido to call for her if he needs anything. Then she follows Dad to the next room.

  Huda gazes at my grandma. She softly recites a short surah from the Quran and cups her hands together, lifting them just below her chin to make a prayer.

  ‘Oh Allah, please make Tayta better so we can all pick mulberries together.’

  She kisses our grandma on the cheek and then smiles at our grandpa. I do the same, because I’m not sure what else to do.

  We follow Mum and close the door behind us. Dad’s pacing up and down with Mum’s phone in his hand. Orange curtains hang from the window, and a matching orange quilt is draped over a bed. There’s a small bedside table, and an old wooden wardrobe in the corner.

  ‘I’ve figured out why it wouldn’t connect this whole time and fixed the setting,’ Dad says. ‘But they haven’t answered.’ He rubs his hands over his head.

  Huda butts in. ‘That’s coz Aunt Amel has your phone, Dad. But it’s okay. The kids aren’t with her anymore. They’re with Mr Kostiki now.’

  I stare at Huda. So do Mum and Dad. ‘How could you know that, Huda?’ Dad asks eventually, his eyebrow raised.

  ‘It was all part of our grand plan,’ Huda says proudly.

  Our plan?

  She has the decency to pause and throw me an apologetic look before she keeps talking.

  ‘My and Mr Kostiki’s plan. We didn’t want to tell the big kids what we were up to until Akeal and I were in the air – in case they tried to stop us. Plus, you know no one can keep a secret in our house, right? Anyway, once we were safely out of Melbourne, Mr Kostiki was going to the school. To tell the office he needed to speak to Kholoud urgently, because she’d left her favourite purple gel pen at home. That was when he’d fill her in on everything, and then she’d let the others know about our plan, when she got home after school.’

  ‘But what about Aunt Amel?’ I spluttered. ‘She caught you that time you tried sneaking over to Mr Kostiki’s – how would they all manage it without her noticing?’

  Huda quirked one eyebrow at me. ‘Well, brother, at school Mr Kostiki was slipping Kholoud a little bottle of sleeping potion, left over from when he used to work at the sleep clinic.’

  Huda chuckles. Mum shoots Dad a worried look. My sister notices and sighs.

  ‘Mum, don’t worry. It’s perfectly safe and medicinal! Mr Kostiki said it only knocks people out cold for eight hours.’ My sister rolls her eyes. ‘So, the twins would give Aunt Amel the tea. She’d fall asleep and then BAM!’

  Huda pauses. We all wait eagerly for the next part of her explanation.

  ‘And then …?’ Dad asks.

  ‘And then the sibs would grab Raheed from her clutches and take off to Mr Kostiki’s house, to chillax until you two get back.’ Huda points at Mum and Dad.

  Mum opens her mouth to say something, but my sister gets in first.

  ‘Let me tell you, though, the best bit is that Pineapple Head – I mean, Aunt Amel – wouldn’t even have realised me and Akeal were missing. Or that the sibs were right next door eating pizza and having a movie marathon of Polish cinema. The tea would last till round midnight, and if she woke up then, in the middle of the night, she’d just go back to sleep. She’ll still be asleep and clueless right now!’

  Everyone stays motionless for at least thirty seconds after she finally stops speaking. My sister … I think even if I lived a thousand years, I’d never be able to predict what goes on in that mind of hers.

  Mum bites her lip and grabs the phone. ‘Okay then, Huda. Let’s try calling Jozef.’

  Her fingers fumble as she finds his details. She puts the phone to her ear as it begins to ring. I hear a click, and Mr Kostiki’s deep, croaky voice down the line. Me and Huda move in closer so we can hear the conversation. Luckily for us, Mr Kostiki always talks really loudly.

  ‘Hello? Hello?’

  ‘Hello, Jozef? It’s Hend, from next door.’

  ‘Hello? Who’s that?’ He’s shouting into the phone. ‘I’ll put my hearing aids in. Wait.’

  There’s a pause, then a small crash. Then another pause.

  ‘Got them. Glasses next. Where are the darned things? Who is this?’

  ‘Mr Kostiki, it’s me, Hend. I think something terrible has happened to the kids.’

  ‘Which kids?’

  ‘Mr Kostiki, my kids.’

  ‘I know that.’ He sounds a bit annoyed. He begins to cough. ‘Huda and Akeal are fine,’ he says once he’s recovered. ‘Don’t go calling Missing Persons about them. They’ve probably just arrived in Beirut.’ He pauses, like he’s checking his watch. ‘Yes, they should’ve landed by now.’

  Huda can’t control herself and screams towards the phone. ‘Hi, Mr Kostiki! We miss you!’ Mum winces and presses the loudspeaker button.

  ‘Oh, I see you made it,’ Mr Kostiki says warmly. ‘Well done. I hope it was a smooth flight.’

  Mum butts in, her voice the most serious I’ve ever heard it. ‘Mr Kostiki, the other kids. Are they safe?’

  ‘Hend, your older kids are here. They’re in my rumpus room.’

  Mum drops the phone and it hits me on the side of the head. Huda catches it on the rebound and puts it to her ear. Dad grabs the bedhead, looking like he’s about to faint.

  ‘So it all worked out, Mr Kostiki?’ Huda screams into the phone.

  ‘Ahhh, yes, young one. The plan was followed through almost to perfection.’

  Huda looks at Mum and Dad and narrows her eyes. ‘He says they’re okay. Relax!’ Then she yells into the phone again. ‘I’m gonna hang up and video-call you, okay?’

  Mr Kostiki doesn’t have time to respond, because Huda hangs up, redials and lifts the phone to her face.

  He answers on the first ring. All we see is black, though. He’s holding the phone to his ear.

  ‘Mr Kostiki, hello! You have to hold the phone in front of you so we can see you.’ Huda’s still shouting. I guess this is the voice she usually uses around him.

  Mr Kostiki holds the phone way too close to his face, so only his chin is on the screen.

  ‘Can we see my brothers and sisters, please, Mr Kostiki? My parents’ faces are all scrunchy and worried.’

  ‘All right, all right. Give me a minute.’

  We watch as he walks down his dark hallway. His face is lit up by the phone’s light. It looks like a creepy head bobbing around without a body.

  He opens the door to his rumpus room and lifts the phone higher up – but still facing him.

  ‘We can’t see anyone – just your head!’ Huda shouts.

  Mr Kostiki turns the phone around, and behind a long row of massive sausages hanging from the ceiling are my sisters and brother, awake already, huddled together on his couch.

  When they see my and Huda’s faces squished up on the screen, they gasp and leap up to crowd around the phone. Kholoud grins, Suha and Layla clap. Omar shakes his head in amazement. He takes the phone from Mr Kostiki.

  ‘You made it! Good on you!’ My brother smiles too.

  I’m having a really hard time not bursting into tears. We’re a family again.

  Huda swings the phone around so Mum and Dad can see Omar’s glowing face. Mum stares back with wide eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks. Dad leans in close to the phone, so he can be sure of what he’s seeing. He takes a big breath.

  ‘Alhamdulillah, you’re safe. Is everyone okay?’ he asks.

  Before Omar can answer, Mr Kostiki cuts in. ‘Aahhh, Ibrahim. That’s what I meant to clarify when I said the plan went almost perfectly.’

  ‘Where is Raheed?’ Mum yells into the phone.

  There’s a long pause. Then Mr Kostiki clears his throat.

  ‘We don’t know. The children followed each step of Huda’s plan wonderfully. Kholoud met me at the school office, and let the others know what was happening when she came home from school. Omar made Amel a pot of my special sleepy tea. The twins agreed to take it to her in her room, so she didn’t become suspicious. But �
��’

  Mum clutches her chest, and I grab her to stop her from falling to the floor.

  Mr Kostiki doesn’t finish his sentence.

  ‘She was already gone,’ Omar tells us. ‘And she took Raheed with her.’

  The Journey Back Home

  My eyelids feel so heavy. They want to close, but I haven’t been able to sleep all night, and not just because of Huda’s snoring. Raheed is missing. I know the police are out looking for him, and I know Aunt Amel wouldn’t hurt him, but I also know that he belongs with us. His family.

  I glance over at my sister. Her face is pressed into the pillow, and drool dribbles from her mouth and glistens in the moonlight. The bedroom door opens and Dad comes in, carrying a small bundle of folded clothes. I can tell he’s surprised to see me sitting up on the bed, awake already. He opens his suitcase and shoves the clothes inside. Then he zips the suitcase shut and pulls it up onto its wheels. Mum comes in and hands him a small leather bag.

  ‘The passports and tickets are in here,’ she whispers.

  Dad nods and then turns to me. ‘Are you ready?’

  ‘Yes, Baba.’

  ‘Okay, brave boy – grab your bag.’

  I can’t hear Mum’s sob over the sound of Huda’s snoring, but I can tell she’s crying from the way her shoulders shake in the gloom.

  Dad puts his arm around her. ‘We’re going to find him.’

  Mum doesn’t say anything, so Dad keeps talking.

  ‘Just focus on your mum. You can’t leave her. Huda will be here to help.’

  I hear a car pull up outside, and its headlights flash through the open window. We creep into the living room, where Jido and Tayta are still sleeping. I can see the outline of the mulberry tree in the garden. Birds are starting their morning song. It’s so warm already that I don’t even need to wear a jumper. Dad gives Mum a kiss on the forehead and tucks the small leather bag under his arm. He walks out to the taxi.

  By the ancient wooden door, Mum holds my face in her hands. ‘You took care of your sister, like you promised you would. Now your dad is going to bring Raheed home.’

  My throat hurts. I know if I speak I’ll bawl. So I nod.

  I kiss my mum’s wet cheek, but just as I’m about to follow Dad out the door, my grandma stirs and sits up in her bed.