Mo - Monday
Mo had called into work to say he was going to be late, he had no intention of discussing the last few days, but when he was put through to Dr Roger’s office, the CEO of GOSH and his secretary knew immediately who Mo was, his stomach dropped.
“Take a few days off,” she had said, “and when you are feeling up to it come back and Dr Rogers would love to catch up with you.”
“Thank you, that is very thoughtful of him, but I only need this morning off. I’m fine.”
“Could you hold for a moment please Mohammed,” she stated rather than asked. When she returned to the call it transpired that she had spoken to Dr Rogers and that he’d like Mo to come to his office as soon as he arrived. “Oh, and there’s quite a bit of press out the front, just to warn you.”
Kahil picked Mo up at 9 o’clock and they headed off to the police station. Kahil had clearly prepared for the interview and was talking endlessly to Mo about what he was going to say and a likely course of action. Mo looked out of the window and hoped that none of his children would be sent home this morning while he wasn’t there. He pictured little Louis’ face, and that of his mother’s and the red scar now on his young milky white tummy. He thought of Callum and how his picture of their dog would probably be waiting on his desk for him to open and stick to his already over decorated wall. He remembered the children who hadn’t won, he remembered them all. He remembered the balled up fist that had hit him in the face, he remembered himself on the floor, he remembered the rabbit toy that tickled his nose. He gazed out of the window as a ball of fury and unfairness welled in his stomach. It frightened him, his mind felt clouded and confused, the scenery whipped past making him feel giddy and sick.
“I need to pray,” he suddenly announced, “right now.”
Kahil looked across nervously at his passenger. “Are you Ok Mo?”
“I will be. I need to pray.”
They pulled over near Brick Lane and Mo got out.
“I’ll try to find somewhere to park,” said Kahil through the open window, “if not call me when you’re out and I’ll loop back for you.”
Mo nodded and headed off in the direction of the tall minaret he could just see over the rooftops. After washing, Mo followed the passage to the prayer hall. He noticed the soft pile of the deep red carpet as his bare feet made their way towards to Mihrab that pointed towards Mecca. In the far corner was a small gathering of elder men chatting and laughing crossed legged on the floor, they hadn’t paid Mo any attention. Mo knelt down and closed his eyes, urging his mind to quieten down, he waited. He was aware that someone had joined him, probably Kahil. But how had he parked and washed so quickly? Mo glanced sideways and saw the Imam had joined him. He nodded to Mo. Together the two men closed their eyes and prayed, letting their faith guide them on the path that was destined to be theirs.