Chapter one
Dizzy Heights
The shadows, elongated by the coloured, flashing lights, fell over the corner of the disco-bar where Hani stood with her two friends, Hamdi and Zuleka. As a group, Hani knows they are different, elusive, and unapproachable: Hamdi, a fierce and feisty persona, behaves like a haughty princess, rude and dismissive of people she considers not worth the bother, whilst Zuleka, hogs the centre stage and lives by the maxim: If you aren’t male you’re competition and, herself? Well, she simply doesn’t care what others think, that is, unless she numbers them amongst her friends. Oh, and of course, anybody who happens to be Somali, Muslim or both. She has to care what those people think. She has to safeguard herself and her friends against the kind of people who assassinate reputations with their tongues, thereby forcing them to behave with such obsessive secrecy.
Whenever these thoughts visit her, Hani has a mixture of emotions. Life panned out for her mother’s generation. Women then, went from the care of their fathers to the care of their husbands. But many Muslim parents living abroad no longer insist on pre-arranged marriages for their children, which is just as well as she and her friends kick against all kinds of traditions. They freely enjoy everything religion and culture forbids them – casual sex, alcohol, and clubbing till dawn. But, they know, in doing so, they face the consequences of exposure. If anybody was to ever find out they would become the subject of malicious gossip, their family honour forever disgraced. Hani raised her eyes to the ceiling, Honour, an almighty debt one owed to society and, may Allah Almighty help you should you tarnish.
Her thoughts shifted to two girls she knew. Not particular friends, but members of her community. They too, played the same game, but slipped up in their discretion. Shipped back to Somalia in shame, they haven’t returned since. Grapevine news told of one married off to a farah, a ‘freshy’, ‘fresh off the boat’, there are many terms to describe him, in short he is a man the girl would not have touched with a barge pole if she was in the UK. Hani shivered at this thought as she allowed the fear never far from the surface to trickle through her. The feeling intensified as she dwelled on the fact that nothing has filtered through about the second girl. Brandished as a loose woman, she just seems to have vanished. In her worst nightmares, Hani knows they may never hear of her again.
Sipping her spritzer, she looked around the room. She needed some life, some action, she hated standing around, it gave her too much time to dwell. As if reading her thoughts Zuleka nudged her, ‘I’ve had enough of this place, let’s go to ‘The 20’ and rub against the bourgeoisies’
‘Zuleka! When did you degenerate into such a morally bankrupt Muslim girl?’
Hamdi laughed. ‘Or, depending on how you look at it, when did we all evolve into such liberal and carefree young women?’
Their giggles followed them into the foyer. Once in the cab the anticipation of the evening, sizzling from here on in, banished Hani’s trepidation as she asked the driver to take them to 20 Kensington Church Street. One of the coolest clubs in London – so cool it has no name. It was referred to only by its street number by those in the know. ‘The 20’, situated in the classy borough of Kensington and Chelsea is discreet and inconspicuous - no party of young drunk people waiting outside its plush entrance, as is typical of other clubs. Its doormen are sleek and suited, more like secret service men than heavy weight wrestlers as befits bouncers of more down-market places.
As the doors open to admit them the music and the ambiance excite Hani. Forgetting her earlier thoughts she allowed the atmosphere to soak into her as they made their way to the bar. This is London, not Somalia - London, a magnificent, magical city. Here, the world is their oyster and they were entitled to everything. Nobody should have the power to stop them. Drinks in hand they find a corner to squeeze into. They stand and watch the glamorous, blonde hopefuls strut their stuff on the crowded dance floor.
‘This is more like it. Hey, don’t look now, but a forty-something is making his way over to us.’
Hani followed Zuleka’s gaze. A handsome, middle-aged man with a certain look, which marked him as a Russian oligarchy, skirted the throng of people and came up to them. His face eager and appreciative, but then, Hani thought, they do stand out by default, they were the only girls not sporting blonde extensions or an orange tan.
‘Ladies, will you honour me by joining with me?’ His thick Russian accent forgave his grammatical blunder.
Trying not to laugh, Hani looked over at the VIP booths where the other cash cows sat. With the club packed to standing room only it would be good to have a place to rest her feet, she thought, as they followed the Russian into the area cordoned with a red velvet rope.
The Russian introduced himself as, Dmitri, on a business trip to London, from which he is due to leave and head back to Russia over the next few days.
As they slide into the rounded seat, the velvet padding brushes Hani’s exposed thighs, it feels good. Dmitri waves a waiter over. His voice slurs as he places his order and he laughs as he splashes the champagne into their glasses and urges them to catch up with him.
‘Ah, we are all here to have fun, no?’ he admonished, waving his hand at their glasses. ‘Don’t just sip - drink! Plenty champagne is good, no?’
‘The night is still young, Signor!’ Zuleka shouted over the loud music.
‘That’s Spanish, you dimwit.’
‘Bloody hell, Hani, I don’t know Russian, do I?’
Hani couldn’t help but giggle with her and went without protest when pulled by her to the dance floor. Her inhibitions and fears gone, dismissed by the bubbly mixed with the wine she’d had earlier, she danced around with Zuleka. Close to tears with laughter over the silliest of things, she felt free as a bird. But the crush became more intense, bodies bumped against her and smells of various perfumes tinged her nostrils. ‘Oh, come on, Zuleka, I have to sit down, it’s too crowded.’
‘Okay, hey, look at Hamdi, she is making a meal of the Russian, she hasn’t left his side.’
Hamdi looked up at them when they reached the booth. ‘Aren’t we the lucky ones, girls? Dmitri is so kind and generous. He has taken care of all our expenses and he has offered us a ride home in his chauffeured Bentley!’
‘Ah, I have also invited you to come to my hotel in Park Lane for, how do you say? A night cup?’
Hamdi giggled and snuggled into him, ‘Night cap!’ She corrected him, ‘Or, at least, that is one of the ways of expressing it…’
‘Of course, I understand! I am happy to go with your interpretation. I have never refused to share my bed with beautiful women.’
What was he proposing? Hani thought in alarm. She was taken aback and sensed Zuleka was too, but looking into Hamdi’s mischievous face she realised she’d meant to crack a joke with the last bit. Dmitri took it serious.
Hani looked away. This wasn’t happening. Hamdi would put him right. When she looked back again, Dmitri and Hamdi had started making out. She sensed Zuleka’s disapproval and took comfort from knowing they shared the same feelings on the situation.
‘I need the loo, are you coming?’ Though she spoke to both her friends, only Zuleka took her up on the offer. She voiced her concern as soon as they closed the door behind them.
‘Going to Dmitri’s hotel room is a no go. I am good to go home.’
‘Me too, Hani, what shall we do?’
‘We’ll go to the bar, get Hamdi over, and then, make a quick exit. We are not whores. We could not agree to such a thing. This is where we draw the line.’ She said firmly.
Hamdi responded to their beckoning. ‘What is it? You two look worried.’
‘We are, Hamdi, grab your jacket, I am calling a taxi.’
‘Well, the thing is, Han…’
‘No, Hamdi, don’t say it, Zuleka and I want to go home and you have to come with us…’
‘I don’t have to. I… Well, I want to go with him’
‘Are you out of your damn mind? He is old enough to be your father. And you know what that makes him? A pervert!’
Dmitry came towards them. Hamdi still protested, ‘I know, I know, but…’
‘There is no, but. What attracts you to him, his wealth? It can’t be anything else, Hamdi, be sensible…’
‘I don’t know, I only know I want to. Don’t leave me; you guys can wait in the car. I am sure I won’t be long. Or maybe I will…’
Dmitri had come up behind her prompting this last quip. He stood beside her and she tipsily leant on him. He put his arm around her for support and Hani knew she’d lost the argument as they walked out ahead of her and Zuleka.
‘Is she drunk?’ Zuleka asked
‘Not anymore than us. I’m dumbfounded. She’s no shrinking violet, but this…’
Hamdi is the most sexual animal Hani knew. She lost her virginity at a young age, just seventeen. At the time she worked in a shop and she started an affair with her married boss. Their liaisons took place in the store room. Ever since then she’d said, sex to her was something to have the freedom to enjoy. But, at least, Hani thought, she had always slept with men she was in a relationship with. Tonight was a total anomaly and she didn’t know how to respond to it.
She did not want to leave her with a stranger, but she also didn’t want to participate or encourage behaviour that now exceeded all their known boundaries: Zuleka’s agitation made it clear that she was ready to hail a cab and go home but she felt a sense of uneasiness at leaving Hamdi behind, thus persuaded Zuleka that they wait for her.
Reluctantly, she got into the car. She manoeuvred her way into the front, not wanting to sit next to Dmitri and Hamdi and witness them getting close up and ready. The noises they made embarrassed her enough. Her feet sank into the deep carpet and the cream leather seat accepted her small body like huge comforting arms.
When they reached the hotel, Hani realised with a sinking heart, parking restrictions would prevent them from waiting in the car. Her face burned at the prospect of waiting in a public place with the all the staff knowing why.
Entering the hotel lobby felt like going into a palace. Everything about it smelt, looked, and almost spoke, of dripping wealth. Zuleka remained silent and Hani did not know what to say as they sat down in the lush, dark red armchairs and watched Hamdi proceed to the elevator with Dmitri as if she did such things every day. It all seemed so unreal. How had this happened? She and Zuleka sitting, waiting, knowing their friend was at that moment getting naked to have sex with a rich white man more than twice her age.
An hour passed before Hamdi came back to them, looking fresh and with no makeup on, obviously having had time to shower and dry her hair. A picture of an exhausted Dmitri lying flat out on his bed came to Hani and she wanted to express her revulsion but her words stuck in her throat with the appearance of the hotel concierge.
‘I have called you a cab, ladies.’
Humiliation withered her at the realisation he thought they were working girls! Never had she felt so angry at Hamdi, but that changed to complete horror when, once in the cab, Hamdi opened her purse and showed them a wad of crisp fifty pound notes.
‘I counted it in the lift, one thousand pounds!’ she said as she thrust the purse into Zuleka’s hand.
‘Oh my God; you had sex for money?’ Zuleka’s voice held disgust. ‘How could you?!’
‘I didn’t have sex for money.’ She said ‘I had sex because I wanted to. I didn’t know he was going to give me money when I went up there, but when he offered I wasn’t going to say no. Besides, the sex was lame, so I thought myself justified in getting something out of it.’
Hamdi’s cavalier attitude stunned Hani into silence. She wished she could turn back time and go home after that first club instead of coming to the ‘20s’. She looked out the window and saw that dawn was breaking, ushering in a new day.
Up until this moment she’d imagined they were not doing anything many other girls, who had footings in two radically different cultures and struggled to balance them, did. Despite kicking against what society expected of them, there had always been unspoken zones and barriers they observed. It was all meant to be harmless fun, but tonight something had changed. They drove home silence.