Time to Let Go (18 page)

“So you heard the news.”

“Yes I did. What a nuisance.”

“Oh yes. I am already getting calls from journalists and we
are worried that there will be press outside the house soon. My mother is ill and won’t be able to cope with people calling and coming to the door.”

“What about your place in London?” Karim asked.

“It’s not big enough for me and my parents. And if they have found me here they will find me there, or at any of my family’s homes.”

“How about you stay at my place?
I can go and stay with my sister and help out there,” Karim offered.

Hanna paused and took in what had just been said. It was an incredibly kind offer but what was she letting herself and her family in for? She had only known the man for a few days.

“Thank you for the offer but I hardly know you,” was what her mind rapidly came up with.

“That’s true but I
think that it’s exactly why it is a good idea. Besides, I am already kind of involved; I know all the details and I would like to help,” Karim added.

“I will think about it,” she said.

At that point the doorbell rang.

“I have to go,” Hanna said and hung up. She ran down the stairs but Henrik was a step ahead of her.

“I will handle this,” he said. He took a second to build himself up before he opened the door forcefully.

“Did you order takeout?” asked an Indian biker standing outside.

“Yes,” Henrik said with a sigh of relief.

Biddy was still
sound asleep as the rest of the family unpacked the take out.

“I say don’t waste any time get
ting away from here. Leave immediately after lunch before things heat up,” Henrik recommended. “If there is going to be a media circus it will be here soon, while the story is fresh. Tomorrow this might be old news.”

“But where should we go?” Walter asked.

“Journalists have a habit of talking to people and finding out who your friends are. If they are keen and the story is big enough they will find you at any place around here,” Henrik told his father.

“We can stay with the paramedic,” Hanna said.

“With your date?” Walter asked disapprovingly.

“With my friend!”
Hanna corrected him. “I can’t think of any better place to go right now. We have no obvious connection to him; I’d be surprised if the press found us there. Hopefully it will only be for a night or two.”

“Perfect!
” Henrik exclaimed. “If you ask me, do it now. Go straight over to the paramedic. You can always order new food if needed or reheat this.” Henrik suggested.

“For once I agree with your brother,” Walter said to Hanna. “Let’s do this now!”

He rushed upstairs and packed their suitcase while Hanna called Karim.

“I am sorry to spring this on you so soon but could I take you up on your offer and stay at yours after all?”

“Of course, come on over,” Karim said warmly.

Henrik was the first to arrive at Karim’s flat. When he rang the doorbell and Karim opened he could not help but laugh. His sister was dating - or almost dating - an ‘oriental’ as her father would call it. Henrik was looking forward to the expression on Walter’s face.

The first time that Walter met Sunita, Henrik’s Indian girlfriend, was still vivid in his memory. Walter had called Sunita an: “exotic and oriental woman”, much to the outcry of everyone there, and his old man had been uncomfortable around her ever since.

Henrik loved the idea of another Korhonen ‘child’ hooking up with an ‘exotic and oriental’ person. And Walter had already accepted their generosity and hospitality.

“Thank you so much for helping us out,” Henrik said.

“My pleasure,” Karim said warmly.

The place was smaller than Henrik had anticipated. It was not a house, not even a maisonette. Even though there was a separate entrance the corridor suggested no upstairs.

“How long have you been dating my sister?” Henrik asked with a cheeky smile.

“We are not dating. I am just trying to help her out,” replied Karim, blushing a little.

“That is a shame.”

Henrik had a look around while Karim was still tidying up the place. The doorbell rang a few minutes later while Karim was on the phone to his sister so it fell on Henrik to let the rest of the Korhonens in and to lead them into the kitchen. Hanna did not quite understand why her brother had a sly smile on his face.

“A bit small for all of us,” Walter pointed out.

“Yes, Dad. But we won’t be staying long,” Hanna explained.

“What is his name again?” Walter asked, just as the man himself entered the room.

“Karim. Nice to meet you Mr Korhonen,” their host was genial and welcoming. “I have already met your wife Biddy on the way to the hospital, under less pleasant circumstances unfortunately.”

“I am not sure how pleasant the circumstances are going to be this time,” Walter said seriously but then he suddenly clicked. The realisation sank in that his daughter was dating an Arab?
A Muslim? That was not like her. She was such a feminist and Walter found it very difficult to imagine that Karim and Hanna would be a good match. Or was that her new thing? Islam? Were Buddhism and meditation on their way out? Just when you thought there were no more surprises left.

“Well, let us try and make the best of the situation,” Karim said kindly. “I know my flat is not too luxurious but there is enough space for the three of you. I will be staying with my sister.”

“We can’t possibly accept that,” Walter refused. “We can’t drive you from your own house.”

“Yes, especially with all the noise and drama at your sister’s place,” Hanna added. “You are working shifts, you need your peace.”

“No, don’t worry. Please. The arrangements have already been made and my sister is looking forward to me staying for a few days. Hanna, remember I said I want to spend more time with my family,” Karim argued.

“True, you did say that,” Hanna admitted.

“Good. It’s settled then.”

Biddy put her hand on Hanna’s knee and said: “Can you tell me where your bathroom is?” It was a question she sometimes had to ask at her own house. Hanna took her there and Biddy followed her daughter with the same trust as she always did.

After they had eaten the reheated take-out, Walter took Biddy to her new bed for her afternoon snooze. He was worried that his wife might not sleep or that she might wake up suddenly and get scared by the unfamiliar environment and so he decided to stay in the room with her, reading his book.

If Biddy should find the new environment alienating
, then that would serve as evidence for his theory about his wife’s need for continuity and routine. This was a very worthwhile experiment and he hoped it would prove him right. Then he could tell his son Henrik about the unsuitability of care homes, which would also be new and unfamiliar environments for Biddy.

Henrik said his goodbyes and left Karim and Hanna alone in the kitchen.

“I better go as well now,” Karim said. “Would you like to come with me?” he asked Hanna. “I have still not introduced you to my mother.”

“Sure, why not.
With Dad trying to find his bearings, I am just going to go mad here,” Hanna replied.

Karim got into the car with her, assuring her that he would come back with her to get his bicycle later. At the mansion they were greeted by chaos. Two teenage boys were fighting with water pistols in the hallway, without paying the least attention to their surroundings or the visitors. The place was cluttered with shoes and bags.

A beautiful and immaculately styled woman greeted them in the hallway. She had dark hair and a beautiful complexion, slim, with not an ounce of fat on her, and a slightly bony face.

“Nice to meet you Hanna.
I am Shahnaz. We heard about your story on the radio. I hope you got yourself a good lawyer!”

“Hanna you don’t have to talk about it,” Karim tried to interfere.

“It’s fine,” Hanna reassured him. “I don’t mind.”

“The whole thing sounds so ridiculous,” Shahnaz said passionately. “If that man succeeded no one would ever volunteer to help another human being ever again. It is quite frightening.
For you and your colleagues too, Karim.”

“That is exactly why I can’t see this getting anywhere,” he agreed. “The entire country would be in uproar.”

“How was your break in Wales?” Hanna asked.

“Oh, it was lovely, until we had a phone call and my husband had to go back to work,” Shahnaz sighed.

“How is mother?” Karim asked.

“She is great, as always. Farzan only just left a few minutes ago. She is pr
obably asleep.”

“Let’s go and find out,” Karim said to Hanna and led her up the magnificent staircase.

“Your sister seems very nice,” Hanna said to him as they walked up the grand stairs. “Pretty much as you described her, but much less neurotic than you made her out to be,” she whispered.

“I am sorry if I misled you. I just meant to warn you t
hat she has her peculiarities but there is no doubt she has a heart of gold.”

They reached his mother’s room and Karim knocked gently before opening the door to have a peek inside.

“Come on in. I am not dead yet!” a cheerful voice called out to them.

The two did as they were told and were greeted by two sparkling eyes in a
n otherwise lifeless body.

“Lovely to meet you, young lady.
My name is Fariba. My son tells me you are an air stewardess? That is very glamorous,” Fariba said with wide, excited eyes.

“Thank you. I think that word is probably too grand a description for the way things are these days,” Hanna said modestly.

“I am sure it is.” Fariba nodded. “I love airlines and everything about them. You know in the 70s Iran Air was one of the top world airlines,” she said. “Under General Khademi it had a fantastic reputation for comfort and safety. They nearly bought a Concorde, too. Back then we could fly from Tehran to Paris or London and feel like part of the Western Civilization. I loved to fly. I do miss it.”

“It is different now
than it was then,” Hanna said. “More people can afford to travel and some airlines treat it no differently than a bus or a train journey.”

“Is First Class still as good as it used to be?” Fariba wanted to know.

“It all depends on the airline you fly with, of course, but it is still pretty good,” Hanna admitted.

“I hear business travel has flat beds for everyone now. That must be exciting,” Fariba said.

“Well, I find that there is generally a distinct lack of excitement on the planes these days,” Hanna corrected her. “Travellers are more stressed than pleased to be on a plane, even the premium customers. Few are as chatty as they used to be and their interaction with us can be much more business-like.”

“How about your lay-overs?
I remember I once spoke with a United Airlines stewardess. She said her life was like a constant holiday, days by the pool in one place, then flying on to somewhere else,” Fariba said. “When they came to Tehran they had stopped in several places before and then they stopped again before going back.”

“Well, planes can go further now without refuelling so they stop less often - if at all. We now tend to go only to one place on every trip. A lot of our extra days by the pool have disappeared,” Hanna told her.

“Would you say it is still a good life?” Fariba asked.

“Yes, I think it is,” Hanna said hesitantly. “If I were to be at home working nine to five I would probably have gone mad by now.”

“Yes, I should imagine so. You must have had wonderful times and seen some great sights. I am glad to see that the airlines still recruit glamorous and good looking young women to do the job.”

Hanna laughed at the flattery.

“My Karim also tells me that you are caring for your mother?”

“That is not quite true. While I am here I help my father with what needs to be done,” Hanna said shyly. “I would not call that caring for her and I am certainly not doing enough of it.”

“I like your attitude but let’s be realistic, it is no one’s first choice to take care of the elderly,” Fariba insisted.

“I disagree,” Hanna asserted. “I am not taking care of the elderly but of my mother. I want to be with her and make sure she is looked after properly.”

“That is very sweet of you and I am lucky that my children seem to think the same, but young people are usually too busy to fit their parents into their already hectic lives. I do not blame them. Everyone needs to live their own life,” Fariba said, trying to sound worldly.

“I envy people who can combine the two.”

“I am sure your family appreciates all of your efforts. Karim has told me a lot about you and your father. It seems you are having a lot of arguments. Remember, it must be difficult for him, too. It is not easy to accept help, especially for someone who is set in their ways. Don’t think he doesn’t have feelings, just because he doesn’t show them.”

“I guess you’re right,” Hanna admitted. “
But at the moment, I am thinking primarily about my mother.”

“Caring for someone is a complicated business. Your mother doesn’t appear to notice
that she is being cared for, but your father might see your help as an undermining of his capabilities. I am sure he wishes he could just do everything by himself. In that regard he is just like me only that my independence disappeared overnight, whereas his is slowly fading. It requires a lot of self-discipline not to let your frustration get the better of you. I should know, I bite my tongue many times.”

“I find it hard to imagine that you should ever say a cross word, Fariba!” Hanna said.

“I am not a saint, my child. I have my moments. It is just that my children pamper me so much with their love - it is virtually impossible to raise my voice.”

“You never get angry!” Karim contradicted his mother.

“Karim, don’t be a fool, of course I do. We all do! Hanna, your father has been a family patriarch for such a long time; it must be hard to admit his limitations. You must bear that in mind whenever things get difficult between you and your family.”

“They have always been a little difficult,” Hanna blurted out. “He is just so dreadfully cold sometimes. He is distantly jovial at best, but never very warm.”

“Just try to understand him but don’t let him get you down, either. You are both doing your best. That is almost all that matters. But enough about your father, I hear you have a convertible vintage car? Karim said it is very classy,” Fariba added with more admiration and flattery.

“I don’t know about classy, it is very old. Just the other day I made the crucial mistake of leaving the top open in the rain. I am not sure if the seats will ever recov
er,” Hanna admitted.

“Never the less, I love those cars. You just need to buy some throws or covers for the seats. We have some leopard spotted blankets in the attic. They would look great in your car, I should imagine.”

“If you like convertibles so much I would love to take you for a spin some time,” Hanna suggested.

“Would you?” Fa
riba asked excitedly. “That would be so wonderful!”

“I
t can be easily arranged,” Karim said.

“How about
tomorrow afternoon when my mother is napping?” Hanna suggested.

“I fear mother will be having her own afternoon nap then,” Karim intervened.

“Nonsense. I can nap plenty when I am dead,” Fariba claimed.

“Well I am not working tomorrow during the day,” Karim announced. “I could come with you if you like.”

“Thank you my darling, but we won’t need you,” Fariba said. “But look at the time, Hanna. I imagine you need to go back to your own mother now,” she insisted. “I will see you tomorrow afternoon and I shall look forward to it.”

Hanna took her leave and on her way out she said goodbye to Shahnaz as well. Karim’s sister was in the hallway in her apron wearing blue rubber gloves that looked less like cleaning equipment and more as if her brother had brought
them from the hospital’s operating theatre.