“Are you forgetting the girl came to Orchid House?” Zawadi demanded. “She walked straight through the doors on her own two feet. Am I meant to ignore that because the television news and half a dozen tabloids see this man as a victim of some sort of injustice while all along the real victims—the hundreds of thousands, the millions of them—don’t even arouse enough outrage in people that they stir themselves to do something about it?”
“Narissa did tell me about protection orders.”
“We will not discuss bloody protection orders!”
“Why not? Listen, Zawadi. Please. I’ve followed the story in the broadsheets as well as the tabloids. I’ve seen the story on television news. Everywhere it’s the same. Do you not think that could mean—”
“What it means is that child might be in danger. What it means is that she has parents who will say anything to have her back. And having her parents swear on this or that, having them tell anyone within listening range that they would never do anything to harm their child, this means nothing, because it will not stop them from having her cut once she’s back at home if that’s the plan. They bloody well know the girl won’t turn them over to the cops afterwards. Because if she does, they end up in prison and then what happens to Bolu? I’ll tell you what happens to Bolu: she goes straight into Care.” Zawadi gave Deborah a sharp look. She’d been restacking Ned’s board games on a shelf next to a flat-screen television. She rested back on her heels and added, “You do know what the cut is, don’t you?”
“You know that I know.”
“That’s good. That’s fine. But you’ve never endured it so you have no place saying that someone else—specifically a child—is not in danger. In this, you’re just like Narissa at the end of the day. You’ve got your book. She’s got her film.”
“Are you trying to say I’m not passionate about this? That Narissa’s not passionate about this? That we’re using you and Orchid House and the girls?” Deborah felt her face going red. “We wouldn’t even be involved, Zawadi, if we didn’t want to save these girls.”
Zawadi rose from where she’d been kneeling by the coffee table. She’d gathered up the Xbox, the remote-control racing car, and one of the footballs. She said, “Your passions—both yours and Narissa’s—are about your projects, and don’t think I don’t know that. And I can see how this part of the entire FGM story—Bolu’s part and her parents’ part—would make for a nice dramatic twist in the overall story you two are working on. That’s what all this is, here and now. It’s your attempt to force me into making a decision that’ll give both of you a happy ending.”
“That’s not at all true,” Deborah said. “You’re starting to see enemies everywhere.”
“And with bloody good reason.”
“Zawadi, please. I’m not your enemy and you can’t fight this war alone. You’ve got to know that, so why are you rejecting something that might help put an end to this?”
“Because once a girl walks through the doorway of Orchid House, I’m pledged to help her. And that means, before she’s sent home I must be convinced that she will be safe. Bolu’s parents have not convinced me and until they do, they’re not going to see her.”
“If you’re arrested for kidnapping, false imprisonment of a child, or whatever they’re going to call it, then what? How is Orchid House going to go on when you’re not there to run it?”
“I expect my solicitor will ask just that question of the magistrate before it’s decided to remand me into custody. Now.” She looked round the sitting room and seemed to be satisfied with what she saw. “It’s time for me to get to Trinity Green. There’s work to be done and as you’ve just pointed out, I’m the only person at Orchid House who knows how to do it.”
MAYVILLE ESTATE
DALSTON
NORTH-EAST LONDON
Monifa’s assumption was based on what had happened to her when she was taken from the clinic on the High Street. She’d faced police officers. They’d asked questions. She’d answered them. She’d managed to do this without revealing the real reason she’d given the clinic the three hundred pounds that she explained she’d come to fetch back. She’d told them it was deposit money for a “female” procedure she’d wished to have done, but she’d changed her mind, having been told by her husband that they could not afford it, and even if they’d had the money, her body was beloved to him, just as it was. The officers had accepted this. There was nothing inside the clinic to indicate she was lying to them. So they released her, and her belief was that they’d later release Easter Lange as well. Thus the day’s plan was to return once again to fetch the three hundred pounds. She took Simisola with her.