Page 20 of Savage Protector

“I don’t see how, but if you must know it was the usual story. They want me to marry a man I don’t want. He’s over forty, I’m eighteen. He lives in Pakistan, and I’d have to move there and live with his family. I want to stay here. He’s my uncle, my other uncle, I mean. I’ve only ever met him twice.”

He remains silent for a few seconds, then, “Shit. I don’t blame you. Slimy old pervert.”

I allow myself a wry smile. “Which one?”

“Both of them. All of them. I assume you told them you didn’t fancy the idea?”

“Of course. Lots of times. And you saw how that worked out.” I’m feeling more confident now. Zayn seems to be on my side.

“Okay. So, whatdidyou want to do? What were your plans? You’re eighteen, did you say? Do you have a job? College?”

I shake my head, biting back tears. “I wanted to go to university.”

He nods. “A good plan. Not my idea of fun, but each to their own. You could still do that.”

“How can I? I can’t afford it on my own.”

“Do your family have the cash to fund you?”

“Oh, yes. My father owns a jeweller’s shop. He’d been setting aside college funds for me and my sisters since we were tiny, but my uncle told him to donate mine to the mosque, by way of atonement for my failings.”

“Your father sounds like a fucking idiot to go along with that. Are you sure the money didn’t go straight to Uncle Abdul?”

“Well, yes. Initially. He was going to pass it on…”

“I see.”

And, suddenly, so do I. “He kept it, didn’t he? Straight in his own pocket.”

“That would be my guess. And it explains why he’s so keen to see you packed off to Pakistan, or failing that, at the bottom of the North Sea.”

“Ayreh feek.I’ve been such a fool. An idiot.” I would never normally swear, and certainly not so obscenely. But the occasion seems to call for it.

Zayn’s gentle smile widens into a broad grin. “That’s the spirit, kid. My thoughts exactly. It seems to me, once we’ve found you somewhere safe to live, that we need to get your college fund back.”

I just stare at him. Is he mad? “That’s impossible. He’ll never agree to part with it.”

“He’ll have no choice, Leila.”

I shake my head. “Even if you can think of a way, it’s no use. I can’t go to uni now.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t even know if I got a place. I applied, but…”

“But what?”

“My uncle confiscated my phone and laptop and cancelled my email account. Social media, too. He wanted to isolate me; it was part of his plan to get me to do as he said.”

“What a charmer. You could open new accounts.”

“No point. I applied to Edinburgh, St Andrews, and Glasgow. Once the A level results come out, the universities get notified first and they confirm their offers based on what the scores are. They let students know by email. They all have my old email address, so there’s no point starting a new one. I still wouldn’t get the email.”

“When do the results come out?”

“Last week.”

“I see. And you don’t know how you did?”

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