Necessary as Blood

rolled back, and the garden itself held flowering plants, clothes lines and a motley collection of children‘s toys. The Hakims had extended their living space quite efficiently, Gemma thought as she waited for Kincaid to join her.
    Watching him cross the lawn, she saw that he‘d discarded his tie altogether and had rolled up the sleeves of his pale-pink dress shirt. He wore sunglasses, and the sun sparked gold from his chestnut hair.
    ‘It‘s blistering,‘ he said when he reached her, tucking the sunglasses into his shirt pocket.
    ‘You look as if you should be in Miami,‘ she said, repressing the sudden desire to touch his face. ‘I like the glasses.‘
    ‘If it were Miami, there would be sea. And we would be in it.‘ He studied her. ‘Not looking forward to this, are you? I spoke to Mrs Hakim on the phone. She said Alia‘s very upset. Her father‘s taken time off work.‘
    Gemma frowned, thinking of the offhand comments Alia had made about her parents. ‘Not necessarily a good thing, I suspect,‘ she murmured. ‘But best get on with it. Where‘s Doug?‘
    ‘Gone back to the Yard to do some research on one of Naz Malik‘s pending cases. I‘ll fill you in later.‘
    Both the gate and the flat‘s front door were open, the doorway protected by a swinging curtain of beads. Gemma and Kincaid entered the garden, but before they could ring the bell, the beads parted and Alia came out. Today, although dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved yellow blouse, she wore the hijab. Her face looked pale and puffy against the headscarf, and the heavy frames of her glasses didn‘t quite disguise the fact that her eyes were red from weeping.
    ‘Alia,‘ said Gemma, ‘this is Superintendent Kincaid. We just need to talk to you for a bit.‘
    The girl glanced at Kincaid, then ducked her head and whispered to Gemma, ‘Is Charlotte okay? I‘ve been so worried.‘
    ‘She‘s fine,‘ Gemma assured her. ‘She‘s with a good friend of mine.‘ She didn‘t mention Sandra‘s sister‘s petition. ‘How are you doing?‘
    Alia touched Gemma‘s sleeve and dropped her voice further. ‘I didn‘t tell my parents I was keeping Charlotte on Saturday. They don‘t like — my abba —‘
    ‘Alia,‘ called a man‘s firm voice. ‘Bring your visitors inside.‘
    ‘Coming, Abba.‘ To Gemma she whispered, ‘Do I have to...‘
    ‘Yes, I‘m afraid you do,‘ Gemma said.
    With a resigned nod, Alia held the curtain aside, and Gemma and Kincaid entered the flat.
    Except for a box of toys, the sitting room reflected none of the jumble of the front garden. There was a three-piece suite in a floral print, a coffee table made from a brass tray on a stand, and centre stage against the far wall an enormous flat-screen TV played a Bollywood channel with the sound off. Gemma wondered if the flat had been tidied specially for their visit.
    Shelves held colourful Eastern knick-knacks, but there were no visible books or magazines. On a side table, a rotating fan pulled in warm, sluggish air and feebly distributed it round the room. Gemma saw that Alia‘s upper lip was beaded with sweat, but didn‘t know if the girl was suffering from nerves or the heat.
    The woman sitting on the sofa was an older, rounder version of Alia. She, like her daughter, concealed her hair with a scarf, but she wore a matching orange salwar kameez rather than Western dress. As she gave them a shy smile, a man Gemma assumed must be Alia‘s father came into the room from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a tea towel.
    ‘Mr Hakim?‘ Kincaid held out his hand. ‘I‘m Superintendent Kincaid. This is Inspector James. Thank you for seeing us.‘
    ‘It is our duty.‘ Having draped the towel over a chair in the small dining area, Mr Hakim grasped Kincaid‘s hand, but appeared not to see Gemma‘s. Short and stocky like his wife and daughter, he had thick, dark hair going grey and a severe moustache. His white shirt was neatly tucked into dark trousers. ‘Will you sit, please? My wife will bring tea.‘ Like Alia, he wore thick glasses.
    Alia‘s mother nodded and slipped soundlessly from the room. As Gemma and Kincaid sat side by side on the sofa, Mr Hakim remained standing, his hands clasped behind his back. He continued, ‘This is a very bad thing. It is bad for our daughter to be associated with this, and I am hoping your questions can be answered quickly.‘
    Perching on the edge of one of the overstuffed armchairs, Alia tapped a sandalled toe against