all the beloved ghosts by Alison MacLeod

Author:Alison MacLeod [MacLeod, Alison]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bloomsbury
Published: 2016-11-25T10:18:33+00:00

In Praise of Radical Fish

Brothers, I tell you solemnly: it is not easy to become radicalised in a seaside resort. There are distractions. There are deckchairs. There is all that soft, watery light. What can a brother do but hope that the flame of his anger survives the refreshing sea breeze?

It was the Bank Holiday weekend, and I had coaxed Omar and Hamid to Brighton from Peterborough on the promise of a pre-jihad team-building weekend. If we could maintain our anger there, I told them, we could maintain it anywhere. Except I was the weak link. I still had to find the flame within. On Brighton Pier, while Omar and Hamid brooded like ayatollahs, I struggled with an embarrassing excess of good cheer. The day was bright, the tide was high. At the shooting gallery I managed to take out an entire row of ducks – only to spoil everything by returning to my brothers bearing cuddly toys.

Omar frowned. Hamid sighed. The X Factor buzzer sounded in my head.

Ham said, ‘No one may hold a cuddly toy when the call to Holy War comes.’

‘Ah,’ I said. ‘It is written?’

He and Omar exchanged a look. Ham knocked my head.

We were waiting for the call from the Emir’s man on the Dark Web, aka The Recruiter. Hamid had acquired a second mobile purely for the purpose of the call, and it could, he said, come at any moment. If we were deemed proper, The Recruiter would tell us when and how to mobilise. He would get us maps, through a third party back in Peterborough, and a list of required kit.

Ahead of us, at the railing, a white guy vomited into the sea.

‘Lim,’ Hamid said to me, his voice public-school posh and low, ‘listen. I am grateful for your efforts, I truly am, but’ – he cast an eye over the pier – ‘wouldn’t a few lurid games of paintball in Peterborough have served? Brighton, I think, is a city of Kuffar. We should not be here.’

I was out of my depth when Muslims talked like Muslims. My father had always worked shifts and found it difficult to take me to mosque. I made a mental note to check the glossary in my Islam for Dummies – £12.40 RRP less my staff discount. Then I slapped Ham on the back and told him all would be well.

Omar also looked impressively miserable. How did they do it? I gathered the toys in my arms and assured them it would only strengthen us to confront and renounce the pleasures of Brighton. ‘Watch,’ I said.

The girl in the candyfloss booth was called Joy. It said so on her badge – only she had scratched out the ‘y’ in black biro.

‘Did your boss get your name wrong?’ I tried.

She was pretty even when she scowled.

‘I’m Lim,’ I added. ‘As in Limazah.’

‘I’m Jo,’ she said. ‘As in Jo.’

I smiled and arranged the toys, like supplicants, in a semicircle around her booth.

She rolled her eyes but laid down her flossy wand and stepped outside to see.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.