“But he already has a title,” said Jasmina.
“A Scottish title isn’t really the same thing at all,” the Major said.
“Especially when you buy it over the Internet,” added Roger.
“I can’t believe it,” said the Major. “This is wonderful news. I must say, I wasn’t looking forward to having to choose sides as that awful project became public.”
“It was hardly a difficult choice,” said Jasmina. “I know you have such a love for this village.”
“Of course, one would have had to do the right thing,” said the Major, but he felt a relief that he would not be called upon to do so.
“Glad you’re happy,” said Roger. “But what about me? I was going to get a big fat bonus out of being in charge of this deal, but right now I doubt I’ll keep my job.”
“But you came home to Edgecombe St. Mary,” said Jasmina. “Why did you come?”
“I suppose I did,” said Roger, looking around the kitchen as if surprised. “I felt so low I just wanted to go home and I guess—I guess I always think of this as home.” He looked bewildered, like a lost child discovered under a bush at the bottom of the garden. The Major looked at Jasmina and she gripped his hand and nodded.
“My dear Roger,” said the Major. “This will always be your home.” There was a moment of silence in which Roger’s face seemed to work through a range of emotions. Then he smiled.
“You have no idea how much it means to me to hear you say that, Dad,” he said. He stood up and came around the table to envelop the Major in a fierce hug.
“It goes without saying,” said the Major, his voice gruff to hide his happiness as he patted his son’s back. Roger released him and appeared to wipe away a tear from the corner of his eye. He turned away to leave the room and then looked back to add, “So do you think maybe we could get Mortimer Teale to put something in writing?”
It took the Major a fraction of a second to understand the scene as something other than a mere impediment to his own car’s forward passage. An ambulance with its lights flashing stood open and empty at the front door of the village shop. Parked next to it, across the road to block traffic, a police car also flashed its lights, its doors flung open and a young redheaded policeman speaking with urgency into his radio.
“Something has happened,” said Jasmina and she jumped out of the car as soon as it stopped and ran to the policeman. By the time the Major caught up she was pleading with him to let her in.
“We’re not sure what’s going on, ma’am, and my sergeant said to not let anyone in.”
“Is George in there? What happened to them?” said Mrs. Ali.
“For God’s sake, she’s the owner of the place,” said the Major.
“Who’s hurt?”
“A lady and her son,” said the policeman.
“I’m the boy’s auntie,” said Jasmina. “The girl is to marry my nephew today.”
“We’re looking for an auntie,” said the policeman. He caught Jasmina by the arm. “Where were you half an hour ago?”
“She was with me at Rose Lodge all afternoon, and she’s been with me for the past two days,” said the Major. “What’s this about?” Just then an older policeman, a sergeant with eyebrows as unkempt as a hedge but a kindly expression, came out holding George, who had a large bandage on his left arm and was crying. He was accompanied by Amina’s aunt Noreen, who was dressed in a shalwar kameez of white and gold embroidered about the neck with many jeweled brooches and ruined with a large bloodstain and several smudged bloody handprints about George’s size. George saw Jasmina and let out a wail.
“Auntie Jasmina!”
“This is her family’s doing,” said Noreen, pointing at Jasmina. “They are criminals and murderers.”
“Is this lady the one who hurt you and your mother?” asked the policeman who was holding Jasmina. George shook his head and held out his arms to Jasmina. The policeman released her and she stepped forward to take him but Noreen put out a hand to stop her.
“He has to go to the hospital, ladies,” said the sergeant.
“What happened here?” asked Jasmina. “I demand to know.”
“As if you didn’t know,” said Noreen. “You betrayed us with your plans and your lies.”
“Far as we can make out from the boy, ma’am,” said the younger policeman, “an old lady stabbed his mum with some kind of knitting needle. The auntie’s done a runner with a man believed to be the boy’s father. Don’t know where they went.”
A stretcher appeared, pushed by two ambulance men. Amina lay covered in a sheet, an IV in her arm and an oxygen mask on her face. She made a faint sound when she saw them and tried to raise her hand.
“Mummy!” called George, and Noreen and the kindly sergeant struggled to hold him back.
“Let them help your mummy now,” begged Noreen.
The Major stepped over to the stretcher and took Amina’s hand.
“How is she?” he asked a burly ambulance man who appeared to be in charge.
“Must have missed the heart or she’d be a goner, but she’s probably bleeding internally. Hard to tell with such a small entry wound.”
“Where’s George?” whispered Amina. “Is he all right?”
“He’s right here,” said the Major. “With your aunt Noreen and Jasmina.”
“Please find Abdul Wahid,” whispered Amina. “He thinks it’s his fault.”
“They gotta get her to the hospital now, sir.” The sergeant’s eyebrows were drawn together in sympathy.
“I’ll go with you,” said Jasmina. “He’s my great-nephew.”
“You will not,” said Noreen. “You will stay away from us and you will suffer for your crimes.”
“I’m not to blame and neither is Abdul Wahid. You cannot think it, Noreen.”
“Do you know where your nephew might go, ma’am?” the sergeant asked, writing on a notepad. “Seems he took off with the old lady.”
“I have no idea,” said Jasmina. She smoothed George’s tear-stained face with her hand as the men loaded the stretcher into the ambulance and asked, “George, where did your daddy go?”
“He said to Mecca,” said George. “I want my mummy.”
“Mecca—is that a restaurant or a store or something?” said the young policeman.
“No, he means the city I think,” said Jasmina. The Major felt her look at him.
“He said walking to Mecca,” repeated George, hiccupping through his tears.
“Well, if he’s walking they won’t get far,” sneered the policeman.
“Is Daddy with old auntie?” asked Jasmina. George broke into fresh wails.
“She hurt my mummy with her knitting and she scratched my arm.” He showed the bandage and his body trembled.
“He might be protecting his daddy. Kids’ll say anything when they’re scared.” The younger policeman was beginning to grate on the Major.
“My nephew was not involved with this,” said Jasmina.
“Put her and her family in jail,” said Noreen as the sergeant handed George up to her in the ambulance. “They are criminals.”
“We can’t rule anything out right now.” The sergeant shut the doors of the ambulance, and the siren began to wail. “I need to find your nephew.”
“I have no idea where he is,” said Jasmina and the Major marveled at her blank face and her clear gaze. “Obviously he’s not heading to Mecca.”
“You never know, he might slip the country.” He turned to his companion. “Better warn the airports and get out a description. Does he own a car, ma’am?”
“No, he does not own a car.” The Major noticed that Jasmina did not mention her own blue Honda, which was not parked in its usual spot. He saw her sway as if she might faint and grabbed her around the waist.
“This has been a big shock, officers,” he said in his most authoritative tone. “I think I need to take her home to sit down.”
“Are you in the village, sir?” asked the sergeant and the Major gave them his address and helped Jasmina back to the car. “Stay indoors once you get there,” added the younger policeman. “We may need to talk to you
