The Wedding Countdown Read Free Page A

I mean son.
    ‘How can I marry a man who has all the charm and wit of a single-cell amoeba?’ I wonder aloud. ‘I’d rather watch my car get dirty than hang out with Kabir.’
    Emira snorts with laughter. ‘Stop it, Mills! Auntie Bee will hear!’
    ‘She’ll think you’re eyeing him up,’ says Hoor.
    ‘I wouldn’t panic,’ Sara says. ‘Auntie Bee was so insulted when you turned Kermit down the last time she’s hardly likely to give you another chance.’
    It’s a fair point. Auntie Bee didn’t take the rejection too kindly and lost no time spreading vicious rumours that my mother had lost control of me and that – Astaghfirullah ! God forbid! – I had turned out to be one of those western independent types, one of those girls who eventually turn their back on their family and spit on the family name. But when she started spreading word that I was using university schuniversity as an excuse to see boys unchaperoned, my father had to take her to task.
    Seeing boys unchaperoned? Hardly. Sweet twenty-two and never been kissed.
    I wonder what it’s like? Kissing I mean…
    My gaze strays over towards Tara, who is stunning. She has waist-length ebony curls and eyes like the saddest of Andrex puppies. She met Faisal, her new husband, through the usual family network, but it’s clear they adore each other. I watch as every now and then their fingertips brush, and the flush in Tara’s cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes speak volumes. Faisal, who is handsome in a tall and lanky way, looks like a man who can’t believe his luck.
    ‘They can’t wait for the rest of us to shove off and leave them to it,’ whispers Sara, following my gaze. ‘Lucky buggers. I can’t wait to get married. If we have to wait much longer to shag, Shabs will explode.’
    Hoor splutters Diet Coke all over us.
    I’m used to Sara. She tries very hard to shock but actually is one of the most conventional people on the planet. She’s been engaged to Shabir, another cousin (surprise, surprise), for aeons and once her law degree’s completed they’ll be married.
    Are you starting to see the pattern?
    ‘What about Qas?’ asks Hoor, swiftly trying to change the subject. ‘Has your dad sorted out anyone for him yet? He’s grown up to be really fit.’
    I peer across the room at my brother, who is helping Nanny- ji find a place to sit. When did Qas change from being a spotty teenager into a man? It makes me laugh to think that my baby brother now has a huge Bradfordian female following. I guess if Beckham-style diamond earrings and trendy mullet-meets-Mohawk hairdos are your thing, then Qas is attractive. He still farts a lot, though.
    ‘A potential doctor,’ muses Sara. ‘I bet all the auntie- jis are queuing up with their daughters.’
    ‘He’s the darling boy,’ I say. ‘Every Asian parent’s fantasy fulfilled. A doctor son.’
    Emira shoots me a sharp look. ‘Miaow! I thought Sanaubar was here for a minute.’
    ‘Sorry.’ I’m such a cow. It isn’t Qas’s fault he has a willy and therefore about a million times more freedom than I do. I can’t blame him for being allowed to go to Bristol University rather than having to stay in Bradford and be home early every day after lectures finish. That’s just the way that things are in families like ours. Family honour, izzat , must be preserved at all costs, and daughters have a special duty when it comes to upholding it. Qas does all the normal boy stuff like going out at any time of night or day, avoiding all household chores and not having curfews. It is unfair but there’s no point blaming him.
    But there’s more to my feeling irritated than this.
    ‘Qas is such a sweetie,’ insists Hoor. ‘Look how he comes back from uni every weekend when he could be out socialising. He’s such a good family guy.’
    All my cousins nod. You can practically see Qas’s halo glowing above his dark head. He’s so perfect, they coo, and of course I have to agree. Qas is the sohna