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Back Out of the Ashes Save as PDF
Chapters (95)
  1. Cover
  2. PRAISE
  3. About the Author
  4. Dedication
  5. FRIDAY
  6. Rosa, 2 p.m.
  7. Maya, 2.30 p.m.
  8. Maya, 3.30 p.m.
  9. Maya, 3.45 p.m.
  10. Dan, 3.45 p.m.
  11. Maya, 4 p.m.
  12. Maya, 4.30 p.m.
  13. Maya, 5.30 p.m.
  14. Maya, 6 p.m.
  15. Maya, 6.15 p.m.
  16. 6.30 p.m.
  17. Maya, 7.30 p.m.
  18. Maya, 7.45 p.m.
  19. Brick Lane, 1984 – Maya
  20. SATURDAY
  21. Maya, 7 a.m.
  22. Maya, 8.30 a.m.
  23. Maya, 8.45 a.m.
  24. Maya, 9.15 a.m.
  25. Maya, 10 a.m.
  26. 10.30 a.m.
  27. Dan, 11 a.m.
  28. Maya, midday
  29. Maya, 12.30 p.m.
  30. Maya, 1 p.m.
  31. Maya, 1.30 p.m.
  32. Dan, 2.30 p.m.
  33. Dan, 3 p.m.
  34. Maya, 3.30 p.m.
  35. Maya, 4.30 p.m.
  36. Maya, 5.30 p.m.
  37. Dan, 6 p.m.
  38. Maya, 6.45 p.m.
  39. Maya, 7.30 p.m.
  40. Maya, 8.30 p.m.
  41. Dan, 9.30 p.m.
  42. Maya, 10 p.m.
  43. Maya, 10.45 p.m.
  44. 11.30 p.m.
  45. Maya, 11.30 p.m.
  46. Maya, midnight
  47. SUNDAY
  48. Rosa, 7 a.m.
  49. Brick Lane, 1984 – Maya
  50. Maya, 8.30 a.m.
  51. 9 a.m.
  52. Maya, 9.30 a.m.
  53. Maya, 11 a.m.
  54. Dan, 12.30 p.m.
  55. Maya, 12.30 p.m.
  56. Dan, 2.30 p.m.
  57. Maya, 5 p.m.
  58. Maya, 9 p.m.
  59. Feldman’s Newsagent’s, Brick Lane, 1989 – Maya
  60. MONDAY
  61. 8 a.m.
  62. Maya, 8.30 a.m.
  63. Maya, 9 a.m.
  64. Dan, 10.30 a.m.
  65. Maya, 10.30 a.m.
  66. Dan, 11.15 a.m.
  67. Maya, 11.15 a.m.
  68. Maya, midday
  69. Maya, 1 p.m.
  70. Dan, 1.55 p.m.
  71. 2 p.m.
  72. Maya, 3 p.m.
  73. Maya, 4 p.m.
  74. Maya, 6 p.m.
  75. Maya, 7 p.m.
  76. Maya, 8 p.m.
  77. Maya, 8.45 p.m.
  78. Maya, 10 p.m.
  79. Maya, 10.30 p.m.
  80. TUESDAY
  81. Dan, 1 a.m.
  82. Maya, 7.30 a.m.
  83. Maya, 9 a.m.
  84. Maya, 10.30 a.m.
  85. Maya, 11.30 a.m.
  86. Maya, 12.30 p.m.
  87. Maya, 2.30 p.m.
  88. Maya, 4 p.m.
  89. Maya, 5 p.m.
  90. WEDNESDAY
  91. Maya, 8 a.m.
  92. Maya, 9 a.m.
  93. Maya, 10 a.m.
  94. Acknowledgements
  95. About the Publisher

‘G’day, Sir. I’m Detective Maguire. This is DI Rahman. Sorry to knock you up like this . . . ’ Dan smelled cooking. ‘We’re looking for Ali Kousa. Are you his—?’

‘Who?’ His accent was English. As he frowned, his round spectacles bobbed down and then up again.

‘Ali Kousa. He’s a ten-year-old Syrian boy. Gave this as his address. Said he lived here with his brother, Riad.’ Dan double checked the house number. ‘Twenty-eight, York Square?’

‘That’s us. There are no children here though.’ The man was shaking his head. ‘I think you’ve been run up the garden path, Detective. It’s just my wife and I here. She’s in the kitchen. We’re a bit late having lunch today. You’re welcome to come in and look around, if you want to check.’ He stepped back and motioned for them to enter. ‘Darling?’ he yelled over his shoulder. ‘The police are here.’

Maya, 3.30 p.m.

Maya, 3.30 p.m.

Having found no Ali to interview at the address he’d given us, Dan and I reached Rosa’s newsagent’s sooner than expected.

Agnieszka opened the flat door in tracksuit bottoms and a baggy jumper. ‘Come in.’ A smile warmed her features. ‘Mum’s upstairs. I’ve just put the baby down.’ She spoke over her shoulder in Polish to her children before returning her attention to us. ‘I’ve taken the day off to make sure she’s OK. I’m still trying to persuade her to come back to ours.’ She led us upstairs into the lounge.

Rosa looked ten years younger. Colour had returned to her cheeks, she’d stopped coughing and was more perky. She was installed on a worn but cosy-looking sofa, surrounded by her family. She had one granddaughter beside her and another on the floor by her feet. Photographs covered the carpet. Mainly black and white. Tatty, dog-eared and time-bleached.

‘OK, you two, I’d like you out of your school uniforms, please,’ Agnieszka stated firmly in their direction. ‘Come in. Have a seat,’ she said to Dan and I. ‘The girls have just got home from school and Mum’s showing them some of the pictures of when she and her parents came to live in London.’ She stopped and smiled. ‘None of us have seen them in ages.’

‘How are you, Mrs Feldman?’ I asked.

‘You got me into trouble, you know,’ Dan added. ‘Going walkabout like that.’

Her expression lifted, and a guilty grin spread over her features. ‘Sorry about that, Sergeant. I rather thought I was due for a telling off. I got halfway to East Ham and realised I wanted to come home. Much as I love my daughter and grandchildren, my life is here.’