BooksBarbecue
Back The Dead Line
Chapters (87)
  1. Cover
  2. By the Same Author
  3. Dedication Page
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. 53
  57. 54
  58. 55
  59. 56
  60. 57
  61. 58
  62. 59
  63. 60
  64. 61
  65. 62
  66. 63
  67. 64
  68. 65
  69. 66
  70. 67
  71. 68
  72. 69
  73. 70
  74. 71
  75. 72
  76. 73
  77. 74
  78. 75
  79. 76
  80. 77
  81. 78
  82. 79
  83. 80
  84. 81
  85. Acknowledgements
  86. Also Available by Holly Watt
  87. The Hunt and the Kill

Casey couldn’t help but smile in the face of Savannah’s boisterous enthusiasm.

‘Where are the other women?’ Casey asked.

‘This way.’

They followed Savannah to a large, patchily painted blue room, with high ceilings and a white-tiled floor.

The women from the shipyard were sitting in a rough circle in the middle of the room. Layla was sitting to one side, cross-legged, talking to one of them. They glanced up as Casey and Hessa walked in. Casey looked around the room, and spotted Khadija, head bowed, stitching two small pieces of fabric together. She looked very young. Thirteen probably, Casey remembered with a jolt.

A row of iron beds ran down each side of the room, the white sheets carefully folded. A whiff of disinfectant in the air hinted at hospitals, while a ceiling fan purred overhead. The room looked out onto a tiny garden, the green almost a shock to Casey’s eyes.

Layla stood up. She nodded to Hessa and Casey. ‘You made it then,’ she smiled briefly.

‘How are they?’ asked Casey.

‘So-so,’ said Layla. ‘Shocked, mostly.’

‘How many of them are pregnant?’ Hessa asked bluntly.

‘All the women from the shipyard are pregnant,’ Layla said carefully. ‘Savannah is arranging for those girls to travel back to the camps and their families, if that is what they want. But first she wants to make sure they don’t go straight back to where they used to live, because they might be targeted again. The charity is helping Shamshun – Romida’s mother – move to a different sector of the camp, for example. It might help.’ Layla shrugged. ‘It might not.’

Moving cautiously, the three girls from the Tephi sat down on the edge of the circle. There was a murmur of welcome.

‘They only operated on one of them – Tasmina – three weeks ago,’ Layla said flatly. ‘She wants to get back to the camp as soon as possible. And, well . . .’

‘Abortion is mainly illegal in Bangladesh,’ Savannah broke in. ‘But they have other techniques, which work early on.’ She shrugged.

‘It’s her choice,’ said Hessa.

For a split second, Casey thought about the would-be parents, somewhere thousands of miles away. Desperate. Desperate for this, this end of a dream, this end of a nightmare. She pushed the thought away.

‘Can I speak to Romida?’ she asked. ‘I know she may be exhausted . . .’

Layla tilted her head, instinctively protective. ‘I’ll ask her.’

Casey watched as Layla crossed the room to crouch down by Romida, introducing herself. They chatted, and Romida turned to stare at Casey, the briefest of smiles flickering across her face as she nodded.

‘It’s OK,’ Layla called across. ‘She’ll talk.’