The Revolutionary’s Cousin

2. Zahra’s Decision

2

Zahra’s Decision

Zahra gripped the handrail to steady herself as she walked down the dark back stairs to the kitchen for breakfast. Before she pushed open the door she closed her eyes and wondered, not for the first time, if she’d been dreaming. Had Firzun crept into the house last night. Was he really alive? Her head swam when she remembered her cousin standing in her bedroom doorway like a baleful ghost.

When she opened the kitchen door, she caught her breath. Tahmineh, the housekeeper, was standing in front of the open fridge with her hands on her hips. She turned to Zahra full of questions and speculation about the missing food. To Zahra’s relief, she concluded that Mr Karim must have helped himself to it during the night.

‘Are you ready for your trip to our village today?’ she asked Ahmad as she poured Zahra a large glass of tea.

‘He’s really looking forward to it,’ Zahra reassured her.

‘There’s nothing like country air for young boys!’

‘Are you all right, Zahra Khanoum?’ Tahmineh asked.

‘I’ve decided we’ll go back to Afghanistan soon,’ Zahra said slowly, hating herself for lying to the other woman. ‘I have a few things to talk over with my husband’s mother. I won’t mention it to Karim yet, though.’

‘Very sensible.’ Tahmineh wiped her hands on her apron and adjusted her headscarf. ‘Your husband’s family must be devastated about the loss of their son.’

They would be if they knew what he’d been up to. She hadn’t written to Firzun’s mother, her Aunt Mina, about her son’s death yet. But now he was alive—she caught her breath, still unable to believe it—now he was alive he could write to his mother himself. It was Aunt Mina who had slammed the door in Zahra’s face when she’d run away from Mahmoud’s violence and asked for shelter. Hateful woman!

‘Yes, I’m looking forward to going home,’ she replied with a faint smile.

According to Tahmineh, Karim had left early this morning for Ramsar to pack up the holiday home there. Unknown to the housekeeper, Karim had come to say goodbye to Zahra before he went. He knew she wasn’t going to the village, so he’d arranged to phone her to check that she was alone in the house. He would come back—if she wanted him to. He looked into her eyes.

‘It will be a consummation of our love,’ he said as he kissed her lips lightly.

Zahra had said yes, but she knew she couldn’t go through with her promise. She would never forget the savage way her husband had treated her in the bedroom. She hated lying to Karim about being married to Firzun. But if she could bring herself to make love to Karim it would be another, even worse deception. She was about to escape from Iran with her cousin. She couldn’t give herself to Karim and then leave with no explanation.

The housekeeper’s voice broke into her thoughts. ‘You’re welcome to come with us to our village, Zahra. But maybe you need a rest from the shock you had when that bomb went off. How terrible that you were there … and your husband killed like that …’ Tahmineh wiped a tear away with the corner of her apron.

It would take Karim Agha, the housekeeper went on, at least four hours to get to Ramsar. It often rained in the mountain passes and it was never a pleasant journey. She sat down opposite Zahra at the kitchen table.

‘You must eat,’ she said, pushing a plate of fruit toward her.

Tahmineh continued to chatter about her favourite subject, the recently deposed Shah of Iran. He’d had a palace at Ramsar, she told Zahra. Karim’s parents Esmat and Abbas Konari had often been invited there to dinner. How beautiful the Konari family villa was, right on the beach … how sad that it had to be closed up. How would the shah and his family, now exiled in the USA, cope with being refugees?

And what was the future of their beloved Iran now that the Ayatollah Khomeini and his Islamic Council were the rulers? And what about those poor Americans held hostage in their embassy for three weeks? When would that end? Would President Carter send the shah back to be tried—for what? Or would it all end in disaster? To Zahra’s relief, Tahmineh’s listing of Iran’s current problems finally petered out.

Zahra shook her head; these were terrible times. Everyone seemed to be on a wanted list—not just her cousin, but maybe even Karim. He’d told her recently that he no longer felt safe in his own country.

‘The house feels bleak now that sir and madam have gone to America and the old lady has passed,’ Tahmineh said mournfully. She poured Zahra another glass of tea. ‘And then there’s your husband … God be merciful.’

I have to get away before Karim calls, Zahra thought. I’ll go to their village with them. She smiled at Tahmineh and told her she’d come after all. She quickly got herself and Ahmad ready, then helped to pack up the rest of the food the Konari family had donated. They were leaving in half an hour, the housekeeper said.

When Karim rings, the house will be empty, Zahra thought, but what can I do?

‘Esmat Khanoum has even bought milk powder for my family!’ Tahmineh said as she loaded up the boxes. ‘It will save my family so much money! It’s hard to phone and thank her now she’s in the United States with Abbas Agha and poor Nasim.’

Nasim. How will I ever forget my first friend in Tehran? Zahra thought. Now Nasim was in the United States with her parents, a pregnant young widow after her husband had been executed by the authorities. Zahra thought about Firzun—how incredibly lucky he was to have her, his human shield.

‘Who knows when the family will ever come back?’ Tahmineh was saying. ‘They said we can use the car as much as we need to. We can even take it to our village and keep it there when we move in December.’

Zahra nodded. Karim’s parents had always treated their employees well, including her. But that might change when Karim told them about their engagement. She checked her watch; they were running late—it was already nine-twenty. What if Karim rang while they were still here and asked to speak to her?

In a sudden burst of energy, Tahmineh sealed the final boxes and got her husband Amir to put them into the car. Zahra glanced at the kitchen clock: nine-twenty-five. In the atrium, she helped Ahmad into his outdoor shoes, then pulled hers on. She hurried him out to the car and they slipped into the back seat. Tahmineh was behind her and just closing the front door when the phone started ringing.

‘Just a minute!’ Tahmineh called out.

Amir looked over from the driver’s seat. ‘Leave it!’ he said.

‘It might be important!’

Tahmineh shuffled off her outdoor shoes and went back into the house. It seemed an age before she reappeared and closed the front door.

‘It was Mr Karim,’ she said breathlessly, manoeuvring her bulk into the passenger seat of the car. ‘I told him we were all just leaving for the village. He said he’ll call later.’

As Amir steered the car down the driveway and out the high gates, Zahra leaned back and closed her eyes. What would Karim think of her? She’d broken her promise to him about today and worse was to follow.