The Sheikh's Son Read Free Page B

and telling her to come back in a couple of weeks, Sarah finally managed to get away.
    By the time she reached Ali’s school, she was thirty minutes late. There was no sign of Ali or Akbar. A few older students were hanging around the gates. Sarah asked them whether they’d seen Ali, but it was a large school and none of them knew who he was. Sarah went off to the park to look for them, sure that they’d already set off.
    One of the best things about living in London was the number of large public parks. Despite the high cost of land, London hadn’t sacrificed its open spaces. The one nearest Ali’s school was not one of London’s finest, but it was certainly beautiful enough that people used it all year round, even on dark, damp days like that afternoon.
    Sarah walked through the metal Victorian gates and looked around. There was no sign of Akbar or Ali, but she wasn’t surprised as they were probably on the other side of the park where there was a wide-open space that people used for ball games. She strolled past several dog walkers, an old man on a bench, and a couple walking in the opposite direction. As they passed her, she noticed that the boy had his hand right down the back of his girlfriend’s jeans. She wondered what Akbar would think if he saw them. It was certainly not a sight one would see in his home country, where a woman was expected to cover up and keep a respectful distance from all men in public, even their own sons and husbands.
    Sarah turned a corner and saw the wide expanse of damp green grass in front of her. A group of six or seven boys were kicking a football about, using jackets and scarves as makeshift goalposts. Ali and Akbar were not with them. Maybe they’d decided to practice somewhere else. Sarah walked the short distance to the end of the park, but she couldn’t see them anywhere. On her way back out, she stopped and asked the boys who were playing football whether they’d seen her son, but they just grunted some kind of incoherent answer and returned to their game.
    Sarah knew Akbar wouldn’t be put off by a group of teenage boys, but perhaps he’d decided to find somewhere else to practice, instead of trying to share the same space with other people. There was a small park near Sarah’s house. Although it was more of a children’s playground than a park, maybe they’d gone there for a kick around.
    Sarah walked as quickly as she could down the main shopping street of her London suburb. It was now more than an hour since Ali had finished school and he would be wondering where she was. However, when she got to the park, she could only see a young mother sitting on a wooden bench next to a pram that had a pink-faced baby in it. In front of them was a little girl who was pushing herself on the swings.
    “Excuse me. Have you seen a young boy? He’s nine years old. He’s got dark curly hair. He’s with an older man, very tall, black hair, small beard.”
    “No, but I only got here a few minutes ago.” The woman took a packet of cigarettes out of her jacket, pulled one out and lit it with a cheap plastic lighter. “Want one?” The woman offered the packet to Sarah. A graphic picture of a diseased lung was displayed across the front.
    “No thanks, I don’t smoke.”
    “Trying to quit myself. Hard, though. I stopped for a while, but then Gavin ran out on me, leaving me with these two.” The woman pointed to the pram and the girl on the swings. “Men, bloody useless the lot of them! Your bloke gone and left you, has he? Taken the kid with him? I wish Gavin would bloody take these two sometimes! Baby was up all night last night crying. Didn’t get a wink of sleep, I didn’t.”
    The woman then began a long account of her childcare problems, but Sarah had stopped listening. She was beginning to wonder whether perhaps Akbar had run off with Ali. Maybe that’s why she couldn’t find them anywhere. Maybe Akbar had taken Ali with him: the son that he always wanted.
    The more