Love and Ownership
Created | Updated Nov 19, 2008
It was hard to see each other in the dark interior of the car. Barry had driven them to an industrial estate car park on the edge of town. By the light from a distant office window, he could see Rafa, sitting in the passenger seat, head bowed, hands clasped in her lap.
"Come on Rafa. Spill the beans. You've hardly said a word all day and you seem nervous as a Chihuahua. What's up?"
Rafa's chin moved almost imperceptibly. Barry guessed she was nibbling her lower lip. It was frustrating. She was more than unhappy. She was afraid of something and he wanted to demand the information, but that would just make her clam up all the tighter. Patience was required and his was running out.
"Rafa?"
"Hmm?"
"Are you ever going to tell me what's bothering you, or are we going to have to sit here all night?"
She made a sound between a laugh and a sob. "That would be a luxury, wouldn't it? All night! I have to be home by six."
"Tell me then. Please! You're not afraid of anything I might do... are you?"
"No."
"Well then? What is it?"
There was a long pause. Barry sighed. Finally, Rafa took a deep breath and spoke.
"It's my father. And my brothers. Someone - a neighbour - saw us together. They told my brothers. It's stirred up a hornets' nest at home. There was a terrible row. Shouting. Calling me names. Horrible names. I am NOT sharamuta. I'm not..."
She paused. Took another slow breath.
"They were going to stop me coming to college. I can't see you any more. I'm sorry."
Barry was too dismayed to respond immediately. Rafa mistook his silence for a sign of his acceptance.
"So you'd better drive me back to the bus stop."
"What? ..... No! I don't understand Rafa. I know you come from a strict family, but we haven't done anything wrong, have we? What could that neighbour have seen? Just the two of us talking?"
"Talking and laughing and looking happy together, I suppose. They saw me dishonouring my family by encouraging a man - and a kafir at that - to think I'm available. I had to promise I wouldn't behave in such a disgraceful manner again. My father said I'd only displayed these shameless, loose morals since starting college so I would have to stop going to college. I had to beg. If we're seen together again...."
"Rafa, lets get married."
Rafa reached up and switched on the interior light so that she could see Barry's face. She looked hard into his eyes.
"Are you joking?"
"Do I look as though I'm joking?"
Her eyes were shining with the promise of tears. Barry could see she wanted to say yes. They were in love - unspoken - but the obstacles looked insurmountable to Rafa, and Barry had been holding himself in check out of respect for Rafa's strict moral upbringing. She was a shy, modest girl - quiet and thoughtful. That was a thing he loved about her.
"No. You look.... "
He grabbed her shoulders and tried to pull her towards him, but she cried out in pain. He let go - shocked and confused.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you. Was I that rough? Did I hurt you?"
The tears came then. She folded her arms across her chest, hooking her hands over her shoulders and rested her head on Barry's neck.
"You weren't rough. It's just that my back and shoulders are bruised."
Shock and confusion deepened. He was almost afraid to ask - but guessed the answer. Wrapping his arms around her protectively - not daring to hug - he kissed her forehead. They were quiet for a while.
"How?"
"Don't make me say it."
"Was it because of me?"
A single sob escaped her but her shoulders were heaving with the ghosts of sobs suppressed. Barry waited for the quiet storm to subside.
"Rafa, do you love me?"
"Yes."
He couldn't help glowing inside. They'd been so chaste, they hadn't even kissed. They'd never discussed love. The situation seemed hopeless but there was a burning joy filling Barry with a wild energy, and a huge grin was trying to split his face in two.
"Then marry me. Never go back to that house where they beat you and abuse you. You can live with us. Mum won't mind. She likes you. She said so. We can take our exams next year, get jobs, get our own place. It'll be cushty."
She peeped up at him, smiling. He tried to brush away her tears.
"Well? Will you?"
"I want to."
"Then say yes. That's all you have to do."
"Yes. But... "
"No 'buts'. Let's go home."
"You make it all sound so simple. It's not that simple. My family will find me and take me back. They won't let me marry outside our religion. They will choose my husband for me."
"They don't own you."
"They do."
"You can't really believe that."
"It doesn't matter what I believe. They believe it and they have the power to enforce their will."
"This is England. You're almost nineteen. People don't own people in this country. It's the law."
"You don't understand. It's our culture. Parents arrange marriages for their children. They can send us away. If the children refuse they can just bundle them off abroad - tell them they're going on holiday. The next thing they know, they're married to a stranger in some rural village in India or Pakistan. The British government may huff and tut about it, but they don't interfere."
Barry was outraged - ready to do battle for Rafa if necessary.
"It's no better than slavery! If they did that I'd kick up an almighty stink and get you brought home again. You're British. You were born here. I can't believe the parents that love you would send you to some strange country to be at the mercy of... of - well, who? How do they pick this bloke?"
"You have to understand - it's tradition. In our culture it's the family that's important, rather than the individual. The family is like a living fabric, extruding threads out into the community, weaving them back into the family, making the whole thing tough and strong and shock-proof. Remember, there's no welfare state where my parents came from. It's about security. The arrangements are practical. Economical. Our family has obligations to those left behind in the old country."
"So you're just a chip on the game table as far as they're concerned? They haven't already picked someone for you, have they?"
"They showed me a photo."
"Of someone they want you to marry?"
"I said I didn't want to marry him."
Rafa was shaking. Barry reached forward and started the motor to warm up the car."
"What did they say?"
"They said I should go to Pakistan and meet him. They said I would like him. He's my cousin."
"Your cousin? You can't marry a cousin, can you? Is he a distant cousin?"
"No. He's a first cousin. It's not uncommon for marriages to be arranged between first cousins. Like I said, it's a tradition. It knits the family together. Sometimes it's economic. Dowries are traditional too."
Appalled, Barry didn't know what to say. For some minutes there was only the sound of the fan blowing out warm air. Then Rafa continued.
"I know what you're thinking. Incest, inbreeding, birth defects. Is that it?"
"No. I wasn't thinking about that. The whole thing seems a surreal nightmare. The incest is the least of it, as far as I can see. I was just trying to think how to stop it happening."
"Oh. It can be worse. One of my cousins disappeared two years ago. They said she went to Pakistan to marry a boy, but nobody's heard from her since. Her sister is afraid to say anything but she's hinted at what she suspects."
Barry pulled away slightly so that he could see Rafa's face. She looked dispirited.
"What does she suspect?"
"Honour killing."
"Honour killing? Do you mean she thinks someone murdered her sister?"
"Yes. Her parents."
Barry just looked at Rafa, aghast.
"You see, she made a great fuss about marrying the boy they'd chosen for her. She secretly had a boyfriend. They found out about it. He was Muslim but not the right sort - his father was Iranian. It would be a terrible dishonour. The whole family would be tainted, in the eyes of the community. Better the girl die, than contaminate the whole family. Anyway, one day she just disappeared and they said she'd gone to Pakistan to be married. That's all."
"Have you tried to contact her."
"I've written but I've had no reply. Her sister has too. She's never had word from her and she's even been in touch with the family back in the village. They wrote back to tell her parents. Auntie and uncle were very angry with her and forbade her to write again."
"That doesn't prove she's dead, does it?"
"No. But it happens. Why won't they let her keep in touch if she's all right?"
"Didn't they love her? Parents don't kill children they love. And they don't send them off to the other side of the world and cut them off from everyone they know."
"I don't know Barry. It doesn't sound very loving, does it? But it's what my parents want to do - send me to marry this man in Pakistan."
"He might beat you. He might rape you. They don't know. How could they even contemplate doing such a thing to you."
"I don't know. It's not possible to discuss it calmly with them. My father flies into a rage. My mother tells me I am an ungrateful and disobedient daughter. I can't repeat what my brothers have called me. The neighbour said I was sharamuta."
"Sharamuta? What is that?"
Rafa hesitated. "It's an immoral woman - like a prostitute."
Barry suppressed his own growing anger. He didn't want Rafa to imagine he could be like her father. But how, he wondered, could her own family treat this sweet, adorable girl so cold-heartedly.
"I can look after you if you come and live with us. They can't just pluck you out of our house."
"No. They're more likely to pluck me out of college. Are you going to give up your classes and accompany me to all of mine?"
"If that's what it takes."
"Barry you're not thinking straight. Be practical."
He grinned despite his frustration. "You're practical enough for the both of us."
"Yes, I am."
She smiled sadly. "We can't hide our feelings from each other any longer, but we still have to hide them from others. We need to finish our studies and pass our exams. I suggest that we try to avoid being seen together. Get through this next year without arousing my parents' suspicions, and then..."
"Then we get the hell out of Dodge!" He laughed.
"Yes. We'll have to get away before they can finalise arrangements for... you know. And go somewhere they won't find me."
"We have a plan."
"Yes, we have. Look, it's almost 5.30. You'd better get me to the bus stop."
Half an hour later, Barry was home.
When he got in, he told his mother the news and warned her to keep it to herself. She was concerned for Rafa too, and promised not to breath a word to anyone. He found it hard to sleep that night - mind fizzing with a dizzying mix of worry and delight.
Next day, at college, they avoided each other until classes ended and then Barry waited for her in his car, at the back of the college, where they didn't expect to be observed. They drove to the industrial estate car park again and sat in the dark for over an hour, plotting and planning for the short term (meeting over the Christmas holiday) and long term (where they might live in the future). Then Barry dropped her off at the bus stop and drove home.
A couple of hours later, just as he was finishing an overdue essay, his mobile 'phone rang. He picked it up and read the text message from Rafa.
He jumped up and, without a word to his mother, who stood in the kitchen doorway calling after him, shot out of the house and drove off. The roads were not busy but it would still take him 20 minutes to get across town, so he rang Rafa as he drove. She answered, sounding quietly hysterical. She was whispering but the note of panic in her voice was plain to hear.
"Barry, are you coming? please hurry!"
"Are you alright? Are you still at home?"
"I'm in the boot of my father's car. My mother said they were taking me to Pakistan - that my new husband-to-be was waiting for me. But then one of my brothers started shouting that they'd followed me and knew what we'd been doing. I tried to deny it and then my father went mad. He beat me. I don't think they mean to take me to Pakistan. Oh please hurry Barry. The car hasn't move yet."
"I'm coming. Soon be there. Can you shout out - attract someone's attention?"
"I don't dare. The neighbours are... "
Barry heard a commotion and then the line went dead.
He drove as fast as safety would allow through the narrow, car-lined streets and arrived just as Mr Ibrahim's car was pulling away. The street was not wide enough to accommodate two passing cars, so Barry was able to block his escape. Under the sulphur yellow street light, they locked eyes. In normal circumstance, Barry would have been unnerved by the expression of rage and hatred on Mr Ibrahim's face - but not tonight. Tonight he was shaking with anger and dread - a level of emotion that was entirely foreign to him. He felt his desperation rising to an explosive intensity that he would not be able to contain for very much longer. He glared at the man glaring back at him.
After seconds that seemed like minutes, he flung the door open and launched himself from the car before Mr Ibrahim could react. The driver-side door was not locked. He yanked it open and dragged the man out. Only then did he notice the man's sons sitting in the back and front passenger seats. They leapt out shouting threats and curses. Mr Ibrahim swung his fists at Barry, but Barry hit him hard in the chest with the heel of his hand and Mr Ibrahim went down with a groan. Without another thought, Barry jumped into the driver seat, threw the car into reverse, and shot up the street backwards, leaving the fallen father and furious sons defeated.
As he drove away from the area, he called to Rafa in the boot. There was no response. Furrowing his brow, he looked back over his shoulder, as though he might see through the seat and into the boot. He didn't dare stop the car yet - not until they were clear of the area. He kept calling though.
It took no more than quarter of an hour to reach an anonymous road in the suburbs with plenty of parking space and nobody in sight. He stopped there, close to a street light, got out and opened the boot. Rafa was bound, gagged and still. He pulled the duct tape from her mouth and saw blood. Her mobile 'phone was by her feet, shattered. Barry shook her shoulder gently and called her name, but he couldn't wake her. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he struggled to untie the stubborn knots. She was warm but there was no other sign of life. He couldn't believe she was dead - couldn't bear it - couldn't allow himself to think it.
When he eventually got her free of the ropes, he lifted her out gently, lay her bruised and inert body on the grass verge, and gave her the kiss of life. It made no difference. He wondered if he was doing it wrong. After ten minutes of trying, he phoned the emergency services for an ambulance but the operator took so long to answer, that he gave up, lifted her body onto the back seat and drove the seven miles to the hospital.
Leaving the car in one of the ambulance bays, he carried her towards the automatic doors. A nurse spotted his approach and sent two orderlies out with a stretcher. They took her to a cubicle and instructed him to stay in the waiting area. He sat, hunched forward, staring at the door through which they had taken Rafa, his mind numb. Fear, disbelief and confusion overload had paralysed his thought processes. There wasn't long to wait, though seemed like forever.
They pronounced her dead.
The dam broke. Barry had to be restrained. He wanted to take her away. They insisted on keeping her body. The police were called but they missed Barry. He drove to the coast. A little place called "Lovers' Leap". And he leapt.
"Come on Rafa. Spill the beans. You've hardly said a word all day and you seem nervous as a Chihuahua. What's up?"
Rafa's chin moved almost imperceptibly. Barry guessed she was nibbling her lower lip. It was frustrating. She was more than unhappy. She was afraid of something and he wanted to demand the information, but that would just make her clam up all the tighter. Patience was required and his was running out.
"Rafa?"
"Hmm?"
"Are you ever going to tell me what's bothering you, or are we going to have to sit here all night?"
She made a sound between a laugh and a sob. "That would be a luxury, wouldn't it? All night! I have to be home by six."
"Tell me then. Please! You're not afraid of anything I might do... are you?"
"No."
"Well then? What is it?"
There was a long pause. Barry sighed. Finally, Rafa took a deep breath and spoke.
"It's my father. And my brothers. Someone - a neighbour - saw us together. They told my brothers. It's stirred up a hornets' nest at home. There was a terrible row. Shouting. Calling me names. Horrible names. I am NOT sharamuta. I'm not..."
She paused. Took another slow breath.
"They were going to stop me coming to college. I can't see you any more. I'm sorry."
Barry was too dismayed to respond immediately. Rafa mistook his silence for a sign of his acceptance.
"So you'd better drive me back to the bus stop."
"What? ..... No! I don't understand Rafa. I know you come from a strict family, but we haven't done anything wrong, have we? What could that neighbour have seen? Just the two of us talking?"
"Talking and laughing and looking happy together, I suppose. They saw me dishonouring my family by encouraging a man - and a kafir at that - to think I'm available. I had to promise I wouldn't behave in such a disgraceful manner again. My father said I'd only displayed these shameless, loose morals since starting college so I would have to stop going to college. I had to beg. If we're seen together again...."
"Rafa, lets get married."
Rafa reached up and switched on the interior light so that she could see Barry's face. She looked hard into his eyes.
"Are you joking?"
"Do I look as though I'm joking?"
Her eyes were shining with the promise of tears. Barry could see she wanted to say yes. They were in love - unspoken - but the obstacles looked insurmountable to Rafa, and Barry had been holding himself in check out of respect for Rafa's strict moral upbringing. She was a shy, modest girl - quiet and thoughtful. That was a thing he loved about her.
"No. You look.... "
He grabbed her shoulders and tried to pull her towards him, but she cried out in pain. He let go - shocked and confused.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you. Was I that rough? Did I hurt you?"
The tears came then. She folded her arms across her chest, hooking her hands over her shoulders and rested her head on Barry's neck.
"You weren't rough. It's just that my back and shoulders are bruised."
Shock and confusion deepened. He was almost afraid to ask - but guessed the answer. Wrapping his arms around her protectively - not daring to hug - he kissed her forehead. They were quiet for a while.
"How?"
"Don't make me say it."
"Was it because of me?"
A single sob escaped her but her shoulders were heaving with the ghosts of sobs suppressed. Barry waited for the quiet storm to subside.
"Rafa, do you love me?"
"Yes."
He couldn't help glowing inside. They'd been so chaste, they hadn't even kissed. They'd never discussed love. The situation seemed hopeless but there was a burning joy filling Barry with a wild energy, and a huge grin was trying to split his face in two.
"Then marry me. Never go back to that house where they beat you and abuse you. You can live with us. Mum won't mind. She likes you. She said so. We can take our exams next year, get jobs, get our own place. It'll be cushty."
She peeped up at him, smiling. He tried to brush away her tears.
"Well? Will you?"
"I want to."
"Then say yes. That's all you have to do."
"Yes. But... "
"No 'buts'. Let's go home."
"You make it all sound so simple. It's not that simple. My family will find me and take me back. They won't let me marry outside our religion. They will choose my husband for me."
"They don't own you."
"They do."
"You can't really believe that."
"It doesn't matter what I believe. They believe it and they have the power to enforce their will."
"This is England. You're almost nineteen. People don't own people in this country. It's the law."
"You don't understand. It's our culture. Parents arrange marriages for their children. They can send us away. If the children refuse they can just bundle them off abroad - tell them they're going on holiday. The next thing they know, they're married to a stranger in some rural village in India or Pakistan. The British government may huff and tut about it, but they don't interfere."
Barry was outraged - ready to do battle for Rafa if necessary.
"It's no better than slavery! If they did that I'd kick up an almighty stink and get you brought home again. You're British. You were born here. I can't believe the parents that love you would send you to some strange country to be at the mercy of... of - well, who? How do they pick this bloke?"
"You have to understand - it's tradition. In our culture it's the family that's important, rather than the individual. The family is like a living fabric, extruding threads out into the community, weaving them back into the family, making the whole thing tough and strong and shock-proof. Remember, there's no welfare state where my parents came from. It's about security. The arrangements are practical. Economical. Our family has obligations to those left behind in the old country."
"So you're just a chip on the game table as far as they're concerned? They haven't already picked someone for you, have they?"
"They showed me a photo."
"Of someone they want you to marry?"
"I said I didn't want to marry him."
Rafa was shaking. Barry reached forward and started the motor to warm up the car."
"What did they say?"
"They said I should go to Pakistan and meet him. They said I would like him. He's my cousin."
"Your cousin? You can't marry a cousin, can you? Is he a distant cousin?"
"No. He's a first cousin. It's not uncommon for marriages to be arranged between first cousins. Like I said, it's a tradition. It knits the family together. Sometimes it's economic. Dowries are traditional too."
Appalled, Barry didn't know what to say. For some minutes there was only the sound of the fan blowing out warm air. Then Rafa continued.
"I know what you're thinking. Incest, inbreeding, birth defects. Is that it?"
"No. I wasn't thinking about that. The whole thing seems a surreal nightmare. The incest is the least of it, as far as I can see. I was just trying to think how to stop it happening."
"Oh. It can be worse. One of my cousins disappeared two years ago. They said she went to Pakistan to marry a boy, but nobody's heard from her since. Her sister is afraid to say anything but she's hinted at what she suspects."
Barry pulled away slightly so that he could see Rafa's face. She looked dispirited.
"What does she suspect?"
"Honour killing."
"Honour killing? Do you mean she thinks someone murdered her sister?"
"Yes. Her parents."
Barry just looked at Rafa, aghast.
"You see, she made a great fuss about marrying the boy they'd chosen for her. She secretly had a boyfriend. They found out about it. He was Muslim but not the right sort - his father was Iranian. It would be a terrible dishonour. The whole family would be tainted, in the eyes of the community. Better the girl die, than contaminate the whole family. Anyway, one day she just disappeared and they said she'd gone to Pakistan to be married. That's all."
"Have you tried to contact her."
"I've written but I've had no reply. Her sister has too. She's never had word from her and she's even been in touch with the family back in the village. They wrote back to tell her parents. Auntie and uncle were very angry with her and forbade her to write again."
"That doesn't prove she's dead, does it?"
"No. But it happens. Why won't they let her keep in touch if she's all right?"
"Didn't they love her? Parents don't kill children they love. And they don't send them off to the other side of the world and cut them off from everyone they know."
"I don't know Barry. It doesn't sound very loving, does it? But it's what my parents want to do - send me to marry this man in Pakistan."
"He might beat you. He might rape you. They don't know. How could they even contemplate doing such a thing to you."
"I don't know. It's not possible to discuss it calmly with them. My father flies into a rage. My mother tells me I am an ungrateful and disobedient daughter. I can't repeat what my brothers have called me. The neighbour said I was sharamuta."
"Sharamuta? What is that?"
Rafa hesitated. "It's an immoral woman - like a prostitute."
Barry suppressed his own growing anger. He didn't want Rafa to imagine he could be like her father. But how, he wondered, could her own family treat this sweet, adorable girl so cold-heartedly.
"I can look after you if you come and live with us. They can't just pluck you out of our house."
"No. They're more likely to pluck me out of college. Are you going to give up your classes and accompany me to all of mine?"
"If that's what it takes."
"Barry you're not thinking straight. Be practical."
He grinned despite his frustration. "You're practical enough for the both of us."
"Yes, I am."
She smiled sadly. "We can't hide our feelings from each other any longer, but we still have to hide them from others. We need to finish our studies and pass our exams. I suggest that we try to avoid being seen together. Get through this next year without arousing my parents' suspicions, and then..."
"Then we get the hell out of Dodge!" He laughed.
"Yes. We'll have to get away before they can finalise arrangements for... you know. And go somewhere they won't find me."
"We have a plan."
"Yes, we have. Look, it's almost 5.30. You'd better get me to the bus stop."
Half an hour later, Barry was home.
When he got in, he told his mother the news and warned her to keep it to herself. She was concerned for Rafa too, and promised not to breath a word to anyone. He found it hard to sleep that night - mind fizzing with a dizzying mix of worry and delight.
Next day, at college, they avoided each other until classes ended and then Barry waited for her in his car, at the back of the college, where they didn't expect to be observed. They drove to the industrial estate car park again and sat in the dark for over an hour, plotting and planning for the short term (meeting over the Christmas holiday) and long term (where they might live in the future). Then Barry dropped her off at the bus stop and drove home.
A couple of hours later, just as he was finishing an overdue essay, his mobile 'phone rang. He picked it up and read the text message from Rafa.
He jumped up and, without a word to his mother, who stood in the kitchen doorway calling after him, shot out of the house and drove off. The roads were not busy but it would still take him 20 minutes to get across town, so he rang Rafa as he drove. She answered, sounding quietly hysterical. She was whispering but the note of panic in her voice was plain to hear.
"Barry, are you coming? please hurry!"
"Are you alright? Are you still at home?"
"I'm in the boot of my father's car. My mother said they were taking me to Pakistan - that my new husband-to-be was waiting for me. But then one of my brothers started shouting that they'd followed me and knew what we'd been doing. I tried to deny it and then my father went mad. He beat me. I don't think they mean to take me to Pakistan. Oh please hurry Barry. The car hasn't move yet."
"I'm coming. Soon be there. Can you shout out - attract someone's attention?"
"I don't dare. The neighbours are... "
Barry heard a commotion and then the line went dead.
He drove as fast as safety would allow through the narrow, car-lined streets and arrived just as Mr Ibrahim's car was pulling away. The street was not wide enough to accommodate two passing cars, so Barry was able to block his escape. Under the sulphur yellow street light, they locked eyes. In normal circumstance, Barry would have been unnerved by the expression of rage and hatred on Mr Ibrahim's face - but not tonight. Tonight he was shaking with anger and dread - a level of emotion that was entirely foreign to him. He felt his desperation rising to an explosive intensity that he would not be able to contain for very much longer. He glared at the man glaring back at him.
After seconds that seemed like minutes, he flung the door open and launched himself from the car before Mr Ibrahim could react. The driver-side door was not locked. He yanked it open and dragged the man out. Only then did he notice the man's sons sitting in the back and front passenger seats. They leapt out shouting threats and curses. Mr Ibrahim swung his fists at Barry, but Barry hit him hard in the chest with the heel of his hand and Mr Ibrahim went down with a groan. Without another thought, Barry jumped into the driver seat, threw the car into reverse, and shot up the street backwards, leaving the fallen father and furious sons defeated.
As he drove away from the area, he called to Rafa in the boot. There was no response. Furrowing his brow, he looked back over his shoulder, as though he might see through the seat and into the boot. He didn't dare stop the car yet - not until they were clear of the area. He kept calling though.
It took no more than quarter of an hour to reach an anonymous road in the suburbs with plenty of parking space and nobody in sight. He stopped there, close to a street light, got out and opened the boot. Rafa was bound, gagged and still. He pulled the duct tape from her mouth and saw blood. Her mobile 'phone was by her feet, shattered. Barry shook her shoulder gently and called her name, but he couldn't wake her. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he struggled to untie the stubborn knots. She was warm but there was no other sign of life. He couldn't believe she was dead - couldn't bear it - couldn't allow himself to think it.
When he eventually got her free of the ropes, he lifted her out gently, lay her bruised and inert body on the grass verge, and gave her the kiss of life. It made no difference. He wondered if he was doing it wrong. After ten minutes of trying, he phoned the emergency services for an ambulance but the operator took so long to answer, that he gave up, lifted her body onto the back seat and drove the seven miles to the hospital.
Leaving the car in one of the ambulance bays, he carried her towards the automatic doors. A nurse spotted his approach and sent two orderlies out with a stretcher. They took her to a cubicle and instructed him to stay in the waiting area. He sat, hunched forward, staring at the door through which they had taken Rafa, his mind numb. Fear, disbelief and confusion overload had paralysed his thought processes. There wasn't long to wait, though seemed like forever.
They pronounced her dead.
The dam broke. Barry had to be restrained. He wanted to take her away. They insisted on keeping her body. The police were called but they missed Barry. He drove to the coast. A little place called "Lovers' Leap". And he leapt.
