Unable to sleep, his daughter’s words ran through his head. She was so much like him it made him afraid. He remembered how the cruel words of school children stung hard. And with no mother to run home to for comfort, the stings swelled and multiplied, until eventually you were numb. You had to be to survive. This was the future his daughter faced. He had hoped for better, but all these years on and little had changed in the world for Haala and for other brown children like her. The thoughts gnawed at his wounds. As he brushed the hair from his daughter’s forehead he knew he wanted to protect her innocence. He did not want her to become like him or like Jia Khan. He wanted words like ‘Paki’ and ‘terrorist’, and the negative connotations of her heritage, to be wiped clean from her life path. She was worth slaying monsters for.

He gently moved his arm from behind her neck letting her head rest on the pillow. Covering her with the duvet, he carefully walked across the room so as not to wake her, and into the kitchen. He opened the fridge and took out a bottle of milk, gulping it back to ease the heartburn he’d been experiencing for the last few days. He placed the plastic bottle on the worktop and picked up his phone, flicking through for Jia Khan’s number before deciding it was too late to call. He wrote a text and then hit send. ‘I’m all in,’ it said.

Seema pushed the pram along the cobbled street. She didn’t understand why her friends wanted to meet in this part of town. Head down, she quickened her pace as she approached a group of young teenagers. They began to jeer and joke among themselves. One of them spat on the ground before her. The group’s ringleader stepped out behind her and shouted, ‘Oi! you wan’ some o’ this?’ He pointed at his crotch and gestured obscenely.

Seema stopped in her tracks. She turned around, and looked at the boy and his group of friends. They were still laughing. She smiled back at them. ‘Do you want some of this?’ she said.

The ringleader looked confused and then angry. ‘That’s wha’ I said an’ that. You bein’ funny, hain?’ he said.

Seema nodded at him, still smiling. The teenager began walking towards her, his friends close behind, but she stood her ground. Her baby began to cry. As the gang drew closer, she reached under the blanket that was spread across the pram hood. She pulled out a pistol and pointed it at the youngsters. ‘Now. Tell me. Do you want some of this?’ she said.

The ringleader took a step back, walking into his friends.

‘No? Thought not,’ said Seema. Then she turned and carried on striding towards her friend’s house. Behind her she could hear the teenagers.