We see an empty cab with the hazard lights on, Arabic music blaring out. There are fragrance trees hanging off the mirror along with some ‘99 names of Allah’ prayer beads. There’s a plastic bag with Arabic writing on it on the passenger seat and a few empty mugs littered around the cab. The radio crackles.
YUSUF. Driver 1154, can I have your location?
Pause.
1154, please come in, can I have your location?
Pause.
ASHRAF, COME IN, MAN! We have a job for you!
ASHRAF rushes back to the car, hands full with coffee, a pie, some Hula Hoops and a cigarette. He spills the coffee on himself as he gets into the car and presses the receiver.
ASHRAF. Shit! Shit! Yes I’m here!
YUSUF. You can’t be taking these liberties! Let me guess, picking up snacks?
ASHRAF. No, no, nothing like that.
YUSUF. Coffee then?
ASHRAF. Excuse me but I am professional – no stopping while working, brother, okay? You still on that diet?
YUSUF. You know Hafifah – she’s tap-tap-tap in my head – lose weight, stop smoking, this, that. But Inshallah I feel good! You should try it too!
ASHRAF. Yusuf, I have already a wife and a daughter – there is no more space for a nagging-horse brother as well!
A beat.
YUSUF. I saw Shazia in the Grand Arcade the other day. Brother – when’s she gonna start –
ASHRAF. I’m working on it.
YUSUF. She was with someone – a man.
ASHRAF. Probably a work colleague.
YUSUF. She was holding his hand.
A beat.
You should talk to her, be strict – get her to –
ASHRAF. I am, I am.
YUSUF. For the family, Ashraf – we can’t have this. I won’t allow it.
ASHRAF. Oh big ‘welcome home, Ashraf’, isn’t it? ‘No snack breaks’… ‘watch your daughter’… anything else? Am I breathing too loudly? Want me to iron my underpants some more? As my loving brother, you could be asking me how Egypt was.
Pause.
YUSUF. How was Egypt?
ASHRAF relaxes into the conversation, putting a single Hula Hoop on each forkful of pie and then adding some of his ‘special sauce’ from a bottle in the cup holder.
ASHRAF. Fantastic man, good food, relaxation – no stress.
YUSUF. No stress? I heard about the suicide bombs. Fundamentalist idiots.
ASHRAF. Yes but the protest – it was beautiful. The Christians all joined hands to protect the brothers while we prayed in the square.
YUSUF. And of course Yasmin –
ASHRAF. Finally.
YUSUF. Look – after shift come to the café with us? We go have some tea, talk –
ASHRAF. Sounds good – what time? I’m picking Shazia up.
YUSUF. Shit! This pick-up – I forgot – Café Bruciani’s –
ASHRAF. Ah yes!
YUSUF. Mrs… Jean –
ASHRAF. Don’t give me nightmares!
YUSUF. Smith.
ASHRAF takes another forkful of pie with a Hula Hoop on it and crunches down.
YUSUF. You are eating!
ASHRAF. Outrageous!
YUSUF. I can see your location. You’re at Galloway’s?!
ASHRAF. You got me! The best pies in Wigan, spiced it up with some of my special sauce!
YUSUF. Ah, bring me one, brother?
ASHRAF. Sorry… it’s impossible.
YUSUF. Why?
ASHRAF. Your wife would kill me.
Later that day. ASHRAF is waiting in the car, smoking. He’s slicking down what little hair he has with a brush, checking his teeth – trying to floss with a taxi receipt. He puts out the cigarette and tries to waft the smoke out. He then sprays some Joop from his bag of duty-free around the car.
SHAZIA arrives and takes her engagement ring off, moving it to another finger. She opens the door to get in and ASHRAF moves the plastic bag on the seat to his lap.
ASHRAF. Hello, baby! Just some shells there – sorry. What, no hug?
He tries to hug her but she’s rigid.
Shaz –
SHAZIA. You said you’d be gone a month.
Pause.
I thought something had happened.
ASHRAF. Like what? I got stuck in the pyramids? I became a mummy? Got eaten by a camel?
SHAZIA. Not funny.
Pause.
Didn’t you even want to know how I was?
ASHRAF. Baby – it was busy, and…
SHAZIA. Right.
Pause.
I was really worried – those attacks, the news –
ASHRAF. I brought you a present.
He passes her the bag with Arabic writing on.
SHAZIA. You think you can buy forgiveness, is that it? Is it jewellery?
ASHRAF. I’m a taxi driver – not a millionaire!
SHAZIA. Or perfume? I see you bought yourself some Joop. Nuts?!
ASHRAF. Special five-star gold-standard the best of bee’s knees Egyptian nuts –
SHAZIA. Wait… that you’ve clearly opened and started eating!
ASHRAF. I got a bit hungry… it’s the thought that counts, habibi!
SHAZIA. Thanks.
ASHRAF. In Arabic?
SHAZIA. Shukraan.
ASHRAF turns the radio on. Whitney Houston, ‘I Wanna Dance with Somebody’ plays. ASHRAF sings and SHAZIA joins in. The radio starts to crackle and YUSUF’s voice can be heard talking to another driver. ASHRAF switches the taxi radio off and turns Whitney down.
Dad… I need to tell you something and –
ASHRAF. Yusuf saw you the other day.
SHAZIA. Where? I didn’t see him – why didn’t he say hi?
ASHRAF. In the Grand Arcade… he said you were with a man – holding hands.
SHAZIA. Oh.
Silence.
ASHRAF. Have you thought about the headscarf thing? Please. For me, habibi.
ASHRAF fumbles around in his door and pulls out a piece of paper, he hands it to SHAZIA.
SHAZIA (reading). Spicy-sauce name ideas: ‘Sauce and Spice and All Things Nice’, ‘Kiss My Sauce’, ‘Wigan Spice’, ‘Ashraf’s Special Sauce’.
ASHRAF. It’s good innit?
SHAZIA. You definitely can’t use the last one.
ASHRAF. Why? It does what it says on the tin? If Captain Birdseye can sell his fishy fingers then I can have my special sauce.
SHAZIA. Fish fingers.
ASHRAF. I’ve been working on some new flavours, and its ‘mwaah’. I’m going to speak to Tony at the market… Mr Nando had to start somewhere innit?
SHAZIA. Yep!
They listen to the radio for a few beats.
ASHRAF. So you’ll think about the headscarf thing though, yes?
She reaches into the plastic bag to get some nuts.
SHAZIA. How’s quitting smoking going?
ASHRAF. Good. I’m feeling good. Inshallah.
SHAZIA. So what’s this?
She presents a pack of duty-free cigarettes to him.
Spraying Joop everywhere doesn’t mean I can’t smell it.
ASHRAF takes the cigarettes off her and leans across to put them in the glovebox. As he opens it a pack of pictures falls out and SHAZIA picks them up.
ASHRAF. Leave them. I’ll get them!
SHAZIA looks through the pictures.
SHAZIA. What? This is a… you’re married?
ASHRAF. No, no, I’m not. I’m… engaged! This is a typical Egyptian engagement.
SHAZIA. Barely worth mentioning.
ASHRAF. Don’t be sarcastic.
SHAZIA. How do you want me to be?
ASHRAF. Happy? Or silent.
Silence.
Look – I didn’t go there to get… engaged, but it was your Uncle Abdelal. He kept on saying I needed someone to take care of me, being divorced was no good. I didn’t really want to but he introduced me, made me go along and –
SHAZIA. And forced you to get engaged? Yeah, I mean you look miserable, so unhappy… poor thing!
SHAZIA picks up a picture and looks closely.
I mean, her dress, all the guests – you’re married, aren’t you.
ASHRAF. Yes.
SHAZIA. You didn’t think to invite me.
There’s a moment of quiet.
ASHRAF. I’m lonely. You’re busy – you have your own life, your boyfriend – which I could say a lot more about but… it’s just me here. I get back from work and it’s just me. I wake up all alone. I spend the day with strangers. I need somebody… to talk about the day with. And she’s nice. She’s got a good heart –
SHAZIA. Pretty.
ASHRAF. Yes but more than that – we laugh.
SHAZIA. How old is she?
ASHRAF. My age.
SHAZIA. Dad?!
ASHRAF. Okay… a bit younger.
SHAZIA. DAD?!
ASHRAF. Okay, okay, she’s thirty-nine.
SHAZIA. Is she coming here?
ASHRAF. Soon. She’s applying for the papers.
SHAZIA. You’re her ticket.
ASHRAF. She’s not like that – she’s educated, a professor in a school. She’s willing to come here and leave that for me. You’ll like her. Trust me.
SHAZIA. I just don’t think you’ve thought this through.
Silence.
Does Mum know?
Silence.
Does she speak English?
Silence.
How will you even support her?
ASHRAF. She will get allowance from me.
SHAZIA. Knew it.
ASHRAF. And when my sauce takes off she will work in the family business.
SHAZIA. Great. When Dragon’s Den come knocking, yeah?
ASHRAF. You can have job too, Shazia – there’s plenty to go round.
SHAZIA. I’ve got a job, Dad! Flogging a few bottles of peri peri on Wigan market isn’t going to cut it. Does she want kids?
ASHRAF. Enough. I’ve got a headache. Let’s talk about this another time –
SHAZIA. Yep. Just drop me off at mine.
ASHRAF. And it’s not peri peri.
ASHRAF is watching a video on his phone of a goat turning a tap on. The phone rings. ASHRAF picks up.
JEAN. I hear congratulations are in order?
ASHRAF. What?
JEAN. Your new wife! Congratulations.
ASHRAF. Yes… well, it has been ten years, Jean –
JEAN. And don’t I know it – you put me off men for life! Anyway, I just wanted to wish you good luck. And… Shazia seemed a bit, well… shocked. Was it, you know… arranged? She did know who she was getting, right?
ASHRAF. Course she bloody did! It is… how you say – one woman’s trash is another woman’s treasure.
(Remembering to be offended.) Anyway… this questioning is very rude!
JEAN. Well, look. Tell her to call me. You know, if she needs any advice.
ASHRAF. Oh yes, I’ll be sure to give my new wife the direct line to my ex-wife, is Skype okay or do you prefer WhatsApp?
JEAN. I’m being serious. And next time you go bloody swanning off just give Shaz a call or something, she was worried sick.
ASHRAF. Yes, I know. She already had a go –
JEAN. Oh, and I picked up some fancy bottles for you from Lidls, you’ll have to buy your own labels but they were on offer, honestly, you should get down there – four ninety-nine for twelve –
ASHRAF. Sorry – got another call coming –
He pushes the button to take the call.
As-salaam alaikum, brother!
YUSUF. Just letting you know I’ve put you on for double shifts next week okay?
ASHRAF. Which days? I have some meetings, Inshallah.
YUSUF. I told you this stupid sauce won’t pay your bills. You want Yasmin to think you’re a fool?
I have a pick-up for you in Aspull, I’m sending the details through now.
ASHRAF. Okay.
YUSUF. You spoken to Shazia yet?
ASHRAF. Not yet, I’ve been busy. I will.
YUSUF. I’m just looking out for you, you don’t want people talking again.
ASHRAF. Yes, thank you.
YUSUF hangs up. ASHRAF takes a fresh packet of fags out of his glovebox, lights up and starts the engine.
ASHRAF and SHAZIA are at the airport.
ASHRAF. Where’s your headscarf?
SHAZIA. I told you, she can meet me how I am.
ASHRAF. Here, put this on.
ASHRAF takes off a woolly tartan scarf. SHAZIA doesn’t take it.
Don’t embarrass me –
SHAZIA. Just calm down.
ASHRAF checks his reflection in the window.
ASHRAF. Pass me my brush.
She reaches into the glovebox and gets it out. He slicks down his remaining hair.
Pass me a chewing gum.
SHAZIA. Normal, or Juicy Fruit.
ASHRAF. Normal. Pass me Joop.
SHAZIA gets it out and passes it over and ASHRAF begins spraying.
SHAZIA. Go easy!
ASHRAF. Arab women like it. Look – you think I’ve lost weight?
SHAZIA. Since when?!
ASHRAF. I’ve lost weight, isn’t it? Look I have – see?
SHAZIA. Yes, Dad. You lost weight. You look great.
ASHRAF. Good. Thank you.
ASHRAF checks his watch.
Five minutes.
SHAZIA. Dad, there was something I wanted to say the other day, something I need to tell you –
ASHRAF. You’ll like her, habibi. Trust me –
SHAZIA. Before she arrives we should talk about a few things –
ASHRAF. You will always be my habibi, my number one –
His phone beeps.
Where’s the flowers?
SHAZIA passes them to him.
Okay. I’ll be five minutes. Please, Shazia, just be… respectful.
SHAZIA takes the price tag off of the flowers and gives him a kiss.
SHAZIA. Good luck.
ASHRAF. Thanks, baby. (Exits.)
SHAZIA calls CHRIS.
SHAZIA. Hey – it’s me, just in the cab waiting to meet Dad’s new wife… no biggie.
Pause.
Yeah, that sounds perfect, I need a night in.
(Looking out the window to check they’re not coming. Whispering.) Mmm… pepperoni? Love you… bye.
SHAZIA picks up her dad’s scarf and puts it on. She looks at herself for a minute then freaks out and takes it off.
ASHRAF and YASMIN enter.
ASHRAF. She says you get your good looks from me.
YASMIN goes to embrace SHAZIA. She kisses both her cheeks and speaks in broken English.
YASMIN. Very nice to meet you.
SHAZIA. Thank you! (Shouting slowly.) YOUR ENGLISH IS GOOD!
ASHRAF. She’s not deaf, Shazia.
SHAZIA. So… good flight?
YASMIN. Pardon?
SHAZIA (louder with a thumbs-up and an aeroplane gesture). Good flight?
(Ahh nam. Shukraan. Almuazafin kanat wodiyah lilghaya, wakan altaem mumtaz,wa wasalna fi alwaqt almuhadad – ma ‘akthar yomkin ‘an turid!) [Ah yes. Thank you. The staff were very friendly, the food was excellent and we landed on time – what more could you want!]
ASHRA (translating). Yes.
Silence.
SHAZIA. Who did you fly with?
(Limatha tas’alani hatha? Honakah ‘ashya’ ‘akthar ‘ahamiya? Lakad tazawajna liltow!) [Why is she asking me this? There are more important things? We’ve just got married!]
(Fi ‘iingiltirah yotlaq alayha ‘small talk’ – sawfa tataalam. Kunt mahzuzaan ‘anaha la tatahadath ala altaqs!) [In England they call it ‘small-talk’ – you will learn. you’re lucky she’s not talking about the weather!]
YASMIN. Monarch.
SHAZIA. Aah – Monarch… every time I’ve flown with them they’ve been bloody late!
ASHRAF. Shazia, language!
YASMIN. Thank you, Shazia.
SHAZIA. Er. That’s fine? What is the weather like in Egypt?
ASHRAF. Hot.
SHAZIA. I was asking Yasmin!
SHAZIA. Dad. What are you saying? I know you’re talking about me! Dad – ENGLISH!
YASMIN. I’m sorry to hear. Not good.
SHAZIA. About what?
ASHRAF. I was telling her what happened to your headscarves.
SHAZIA. Oh yeah?
ASHRAF. Yeah – you know that your washing machine broke, so you took them to the laundrette and someone stole all of your washing.
SHAZIA. Ah yeah. All of it. Gone. Bastards!
ASHRAF. Shazia – language.
ASHRAF. She said that you should be covered up, and she’s happy to lend you some headscarves.
SHAZIA. Thank you.
ASHRAF. In Arabic.
SHAZIA. Uh Shukran Yasmin.
YASMIN. You have dinner today?
SHAZIA. Oh no, I can’t, I have to meet my boyfriend.
YASMIN. You have boyfriend?
(To SHAZIA.) He must come.
SHAZIA. Ah no. It’s okay. He’s at work till late but I said I would cook.
YASMIN. He is… new yes?
SHAZIA. No – four years.
YASMIN. Long time.
(Limatha lam altaqayat bih, wahathan laysa jayidan, wahatha hoa ‘Ashraf rahyb. yajib ‘an taltaqi haetha alrajol!?) [Why haven’t you met him, this is not good. This is terrible, Ashraf. You must meet this man!?]
(To SHAZIA.) Shazia, we all have meeting? Soon? Please – not good that Ashraf not met…?
SHAZIA. Chris.
YASMIN. Yes, Chris. So yes we –
SHAZIA. Or we could go for a drink at The Star… bucks, on Wigan Lane. You know, have a latte or a frappomochachino – ever had one of those, Yasmin? They’re great… or a muffin. But I won’t have a muffin ’cause I don’t really eat cake. And no er –
ASHRAF. Any place you like.
SHAZIA. Okay?
ASHRAF (proudly). This. Is my taxi.
ASHRAF is in the driver’s seat and YASMIN is in the passenger seat. YASMIN is leaning down and looking at ASHRAF’s feet.
ASHRAF. Watch! Watch – are you watching?
YASMIN. Yes.
ASHRAF. You see my right one goes down, and the left eases up. See?
YASMIN. Yes.
ASHRAF. So show me.
ASHRAF. In English.
YASMIN. No. Pedals.
ASHRAF. Just imagine you have pedals.
YASMIN. Imagine.
ASHRAF. Right.
YASMIN. Okay. So I push down –
ASHRAF. Smoothly. Smoothly! You can’t be jerking like that!
YASMIN. It is smoothly. There’s no pedals – how do you know if it’s smoothly!
ASHRAF. I can see, okay – I have eyes!
YASMIN. You also have brain, but you still only drive taxi for living.
ASHRAF. At the moment – you wait until my business –
YASMIN. ‘Your business’ this, ‘your business’ that – how is it you say? More trousers, less talk, yes?
ASHRAF. Well, just you remember who is wearing the trousers here, okay?
YASMIN. They will not fit very long if you keep with these pies!
ASHRAF. Go again. Smoothly.
YASMIN. I do it on the pedals. Engine off.
ASHRAF. Fine.
They switch seats.
YASMIN. Like this?
ASHRAF. Yes. Keep going. Twenty times at least.
YASMIN. Right.
ASHRAF gets some flashcards out of his pocket.
ASHRAF. King Henry VIII’s daughter Mary was a devout Catholic and persecuted Protestants, which is why she became known as: A) Catholic Mary, B) Killer Mary, C) Bloody Mary, or D) There’s Something About Mary.
YASMIN. She was Catholic. ‘A’ please. Catholic Mary.
ASHRAF. No. Not good. Your English is coming but if you want to live here you must blend in. Mix and blend. Smoothly – smoothly!
YASMIN. Okay!
ASHRAF’s phone rings – he picks up.
Brother. Where are you?
ASHRAF. It’s my day off, yes? I’m teaching Yasmin to drive!
YUSUF. In the taxi?
ASHRAF. Er… No – just theory.
YUSUF. We were expecting you at mosque.
ASHRAF. Ah – sorry – completely slipped my mind.
YUSUF. And will Shazia be coming later with Yasmin? Omar wants her to meet his son. Very good match.
ASHRAF. I told you already – no dowry, no Shazia.
YUSUF. They’re working on it. Hafifah has some things for Yasmin – she will bring them. Hey – you get that video of the goat and the tap?
ASHRAF. Yes, brother! Such a good one! I have one of a goat squealing like a human that I will send you later.
YUSUF. Shukraan.
ASHRAF. Right.
ASHRAF hangs up the phone. Gets out another card.
Pubs are usually open from A) 8.00 a.m., B) 9.00 a.m., C) 10.00 a.m., D) 11.00 a.m.
YASMIN. I don’t believe in pubs.
ASHRAF. For the English, pubs is like mosque.
YASMIN. All this drinking is shameful.
ASHRAF. You must never say that in Wigan.
YASMIN. No wonder they end up with Killer Queen Mary – she was probably one over the arse of a rat.
ASHRAF. Smoothly!
YASMIN. And speaking of rats you also need to tell Yusuf to stick it where it’s dark outside yes?
ASHRAF. Right, two more questions then you sing National Anthem.
Late at night, SHAZIA is drunk, standing on the side of the road, crying and mumbling as ASHRAF screeches in.
ASHRAF. Get in. Get in before anybody sees! What time do you call this?
SHAZIA sits on the kerb. ASHRAF reluctantly gets out.
Where is your coat? It’s bloody freezing!
SHAZIA. S’over.
ASHRAF. What are you saying? Speak English. Are you drunk?
SHAZIA (thinking for a minute). Yes.
Silence.
Were you spiked?
SHAZIA. No.
ASHRAF. So this is it? You’re drinking alcohol now?
Silence.
Shazia?
Silence.
Shazia, be honest with me. I am your father. Respect at all times. Are you drinking alcohol now?
SHAZIA (snapping). Aaargh! YES! Well not now, exactly… been getting wasted most weekends for, let me count… one, two, five… nine years! Thought you might have had an inkling?
ASHRAF. You’re practically naked. Never mind your hair – I can see your arms, your legs –
SHAZIA. You don’t have to look.
ASHRAF. What’s happened to you, habibi?
SHAZIA. Nothing’s happened! Dad! This is me. Deal with it, okay?
ASHRAF. No. You’re a good Muslim girl, this is not how you were brought up –
SHAZIA. How would you know?
ASHRAF. You’re better than this. This isn’t you.
SHAZIA. You don’t know me! You know a version of me. The version I think you can handle. I’m still never good enough though, am I? Even on my best fucking behavior, there’s always something –
ASHRAF. This swearing –
SHAZIA. Oh, pray for me, Dad. I’m gonna need it – seem to be racking up a hell of a lot of shame. Haram! Haram!
Suddenly she bursts into tears. He takes a breath. He pulls her close and hugs her.
ASHRAF. What happened?
SHAZIA starts twisting and pulling at her engagement ring.
SHAZIA. It’s over. The wedding’s off.
ASHRAF (exploding). Wedding?! I’ve never even met him!
SHAZIA. Wonder where I learned that.
Silence.
ASHRAF. You should have told me.
SHAZIA. I tried.
ASHRAF. Not very hard.
SHAZIA. I thought you’d disapprove.
ASHRAF. I do.
SHAZIA. Well I’m hardly ecstatic about Yas… how much is she getting again? Wish I could sit about doing fuck-all!
SHAZIA stares into space. She starts to weep again.
ASHRAF. What has that pig-fucker son of a donkey done to you? Did he hit you?
SHAZIA. No.
ASHRAF. You know if I find out he hit you, I’ll castrate that cow-licking bastard.
SHAZIA. He didn’t hit me.
ASHRAF. He cheat on you? Eh? My beautiful daughter not enough for that pimp whore?
SHAZIA. No. He didn’t cheat on me.
ASHRAF. So what? What is so bad that this ‘wedding’ is off?
SHAZIA. He went home.
ASHRAF. And?
SHAZIA. And he tried to make me go with him.
ASHRAF. So you are still living separately? Alhamdu lellah!
SHAZIA. No. We live together.
Silence. He lights up a cigarette.
You know that’s harming yourself?
ASHRAF. I think of it more like preserving – like a smoked salmon. Anyway you can talk – you’re blind like a bat drunk!
SHAZIA. Oh no no no – it’s more like preserving… like a pickled egg.
Silence. They both laugh.
ASHRAF. Come. Get in, it’s cold.
ASHRAF helps her up and into the cab.
So tell me, my ‘pickled egg’, what is so wrong with him wanting to go home and you go home too?
SHAZIA. I was having fun! It was my choice! Just ’cause he’s a boring old fart doesn’t mean I have to be!
ASHRAF. So you don’t do as he tells you either.
SHAZIA. No, Dad! I don’t do as anyone tells me! I’m a grown woman, not a possession and I’ll do what I fucking well like!
ASHRAF. Well, as long as you fucking well swear I’m sure he’ll bloody fucking get the dogshit message.
She laughs.
SHAZIA. It’s the principle – it was like I didn’t have a say. And… and then… what else might I not have a say in? I am not a fucking pet – I’m an independent woman!
(Deciding.) Nope. It’s over. This can’t go on.
ASHRAF. You’re right, habibi. This is a wake-up call. No good man would let you out like this.
SHAZIA. Let me?!
ASHRAF. Yes – he should have more pride – not want everyone to see what he has.
SHAZIA. Oh my God! This is what I’m saying –
ASHRAF. And after four years with no marriage – this is not taking you seriously.
SHAZIA. We are getting married! Well… we were.
This brings on a new wave of emotion from SHAZIA.
ASHRAF. You must stick to your own faith, your own culture –
SHAZIA. He is my culture – well, half at least anyway –
ASHRAF. This is what happens. Now you have lived with him. Some sins are hard to reverse, you –
SHAZIA. But you married Mum –
ASHRAF. So you are lucky now to learn from my mistake. That ‘half’ culture – Bloody Cilla Black and Mister Blobby – is why you are in this situation at all. Right. So where should I take you then?
SHAZIA. I’m guessing you won’t take me back to Mum’s?
ASHRAF. To Preston? Now?
More crying from SHAZIA. A deep breath from ASHRAF.
They pull up at ASHRAF’s house. ASHRAF gets out to YASMIN waiting at the door in her dressing gown. SHAZIA stays in the cab.
ASHRAF. It’s Shazia. She’s drunk, she has no clothes on and she’s crying because she’s had a fight with this boyfriend who she lives with.
YASMIN. He hit her?
ASHRAF. No no, nothing like that.
A beat.
I should disown her.
YASMIN. She is a grown woman – you don’t own her in the first place.
A beat.
ASHRAF. She shouldn’t have a boyfriend anyway. People have seen her. It’s best that they split up. Then I can find her a nice Muslim husband. She’s a disgrace.
(Ashraf. Laqad kanat arba sanawat maan walam takun qad qabaltaho. ‘Ant aar. Wayajib ‘alaika taealahm alwala’ walehlamal min khilal almashakil – ) [Ashraf. They have been four years together and you haven’t even met him. You are the disgrace. And shouldn’t you teach loyalty and working through problems –]
ASHRAF. No – I teach don’t have a dogshit Western boyfriend… no, fiancé, who lets you out half naked!
YASMIN. They’re engaged?
ASHRAF. Not if I have anything to do with it.
YASMIN peers round to see what SHAZIA’s doing.
YASMIN. Don’t you feel sorry for her?
ASHRAF. She has made her bed.
ASHRAF. No! I am not letting that shame through my door.
YASMIN. Goodnight, Ashraf. You are the shame not coming through this door. You ring the bell when this is better.
(‘Anta lan taeoud fi hatha albaiyt hatta yatim thalik.) [You’re not coming back in this house until it’s done.]
He storms back to the cab and sits in the driver’s seat. He takes his beads off the mirror and looks at them a while. Long pause.
ASHRAF. Listen to me, Shazia. This Carl?
SHAZIA. Chris.
ASHRAF. Chris. What was his intention? Did he intend to prove you were his possession by behaving in that way?
SHAZIA. I guess not.
ASHRAF. What then?
SHAZIA. I guess he thought I’d had enough, probably wouldn’t remember the last hour anyway, would regret staying, feel shit tomorrow and not do what I’d promised myself which was go to yoga.
ASHRAF. Want some advice from me?
SHAZIA. Why not?
ASHRAF. Marry him.
SHAZIA. Really?
ASHRAF (retracting). I need to meet him of course.
Pause.
I guess it won’t be a Muslim wedding?
SHAZIA shakes her head.
He should at least have asked for my permission – I will be telling him this.
SHAZIA. You were in Egypt? Untraceable? Getting married?
A pause.
ASHRAF. Do you remember when I used to take you to that stables?
SHAZIA. Ha, yes! And that fucking horse kicked me in the face!
ASHRAF. So you swore to tame it and have it pull you in a carriage to your wedding!
SHAZIA. Ha! Yeah… don’t think we can really stretch to horses, maybe a tandem or something!
ASHRAF. You will have the horses and the carriage. That will be my gift.
SHAZIA. No, Dad really, it’s fine, save your money –
ASHRAF. Do not question me, you are still my daughter! Respect for parents at all times –
In all of this, ASHRAF’s coat has come undone and she sees his PJs. He sheepishly does up his buttons.
SHAZIA. Dad?
ASHRAF. Yes.
SHAZIA. Sorry Yasmin had to see me like this. She must be disgusted.
ASHRAF. She’ll get over it.
SHAZIA goes to get in the front of the cab but ASHRAF locks that door from inside and winds the window down a bit. He gestures for her to get in the back. She doesn’t. He winds it down a bit more to speak.
ASHRAF. Get in the back.
SHAZIA (getting into the back). Yep, great start. Why do I have to get in the back?
ASHRAF. No headscarf. We agreed – Yasmin is coming.
SHAZIA. But –
ASHRAF. So now I will have Kev in the front.
SHAZIA. His name is Chris!
ASHRAF. Chris, will ride with me to the restaurant. And you will get to know Yasmin some more.
SHAZIA. Please don’t be embarrassing.
ASHRAF. Ditto.
SHAZIA. You’ve got loads in common… music, football –
ASHRAF. Wigan Athletic?
SHAZIA. Man U.
ASHRAF spits in disgust.
It’s a game. Do you know where you’re going?
ASHRAF. First we pick up him, and then we get Yasmin and then to the restaurant, yes?
SHAZIA. Right. It’s the next right.
ASHRAF. I am aware of this, Shazia, I drive taxi for my profession.
ASHRAF pulls over. CHRIS is already waiting, smiling and waving, wearing a suit.
SHAZIA. Smile, Dad. Please.
ASHRAF gruffly beckons CHRIS into the front seat next to him.
ASHRAF. Come.
As CHRIS gets in, ASHRAF shuts the glass between the front and back seats.
CHRIS. Alakazam, Ashraf, pleased to meet you.
ASHRAF. As-salaam alaikum.
(With a cheeky grin.) Kyle. Pleased to meet you.
SHAZIA starts banging on the window. ASHRAF slides it open a crack.
What is it?
SHAZIA. I just think we should all talk together.
ASHRAF. You talk too much.
CHRIS. Fair point!
ASHRAF. Do not disrespect her. Let me and Chris talk as men. And when Yasmin comes you can talk as women. About nails and Brian Gosling and suchlike.
SHAZIA. This is ridiculous.
ASHRAF shuts the window.
ASHRAF. You plan to marry my daughter.
CHRIS. Er yes. Yeah, I mean, I’d love to, if that’s okay with you?
ASHRAF. Will she be wearing purdah once you are wed?
CHRIS. Purdah. Er. Yeah, I’m sure she’d look great in er… purdah.
ASHRAF. Good. And if you have children will they go to mosque?
CHRIS. I mean… that’s quite a way off I think – Shaz, er… Shazia wants to focus on her career for a while first so –
ASHRAF. You will not be providing for her?
CHRIS. Oh, er, yes, yes of course I will, just, she’s… well, she’s very clever and wants to pursue her career –
ASHRAF. I see you have a good Muslim beard.
CHRIS. Yep. yes I do…
Silence. SHAZIA starts to bang on the window again.
ASHRAF. Just ignore. She will tire. We can drown out.
ASHRAF puts the radio on – some of his classic Arabic tunes. It’s ‘Ana Mosh Kaafir’ (‘I’m Not a Heathen’) by Ziad Rahbani. CHRIS starts nodding his head along.
You like Arab music? Rahbani?
CHRIS. Oh yeah, yeah, he’s great – really catchy.
ASHRAF pulls over – YASMIN is waiting at the side.
ASHRAF. Yes, this is one of Shazia’s favourites – translated means ‘I am not a heathen’.
YASMIN appears at CHRIS’s window in a headscarf. CHRIS winds it down.
YASMIN. You are Chris! We have heard about you. As-salaam alaikum.
CHRIS puts his hand out of the window to go for a formal handshake.
CHRIS. Hi, Yasmin. It’s a pleasure.
YASMIN. Let’s go.
YASMIN gets in the car.
How are you, Ashraf? Good day?
SHAZIA. He’s got the window shut. He wanted to talk to Chris without me apparently.
YASMIN. Oh dear.
SHAZIA. I’m sorry I’ve got my hair out.
YASMIN. You look nice.
CHRIS. So… Shaz says you like the footie?
ASHRAF. Yes I do. How many Man U supporters does it take to stop a moving bus?
CHRIS. Er –
ASHRAF. Never enough. What do you call a Manchester person with no arms and legs?
CHRIS. Parapleg–
ASHRAF. Trustworthy. What’s the difference between a dead fox in the road and a dead Manchester fan?
CHRIS. I think this is a bit –
ASHRAF (cracking up at himself). Skid marks in front of the fox! Ha!
A beat.
Go on then. Your turn. You must have a joke? You like to laugh?
CHRIS. Nah, you’re alright.
ASHRAF. Come on, man! Even Shazia has good jokes! Anything?
CHRIS. Alright, alright – if we’re okay with doing personal jokes how about this… how does a Muslim close the door?
ASHRAF. My religion is not –
CHRIS. Islams it! Get it?! Islam? He slams?!
YASMIN taps on the window. ASHRAF opens it a bit.
YASMIN. Let’s all talk together no? I want to meet Chris.
ASHRAF. Oh okay yes. Chris, why don’t you tell my wife the joke you just made about Islam?
CHRIS. Nah, mate, you’re alright. You’ve given away the punchline now anyway.
YASMIN. Chris, Shazia says you are teacher? Children with special needs?
CHRIS. That’s right.
YASMIN. Very difficult.
CHRIS. Nah, it’s great really. Got a funny bunch at the moment. This one lad’s got a feeding tube up his nose, and I’ve got another one with a sort of fetish for tubes – keeps trying to pull it out – constantly chasing after him making tracks round the classroom. Luckily the one with the tube is a bit faster ’cause he’s got a dead posh supersonic-wheelchair thing – like Lewis Hamilton he is… broom broom!!
YASMIN. This must be how you manage the sadness! Humour very important! Yes! This is how I deal with Ashraf! As they say ‘laughter is better than the drugs’.
ASHRAF (quickly changing the subject). How were your studies today? Still struggling?
CHRIS. Studies?
YASMIN. Yes – I had been studying my driving theory. But I have some good news.
CHRIS. Go on?
YASMIN. I passed! Today. At the test centre!
ASHRAF. You didn’t tell me you booked the test.
YASMIN. I didn’t want to disappoint if I fail.
SHAZIA. Yasmin, that’s amazing!
ASHRAF. Yes – Yasmin has been here three months and passed. What is your excuse?
CHRIS. I’m teaching her.
SHAZIA. Yeah, I even went round the car park the other day didn’t I?
ASHRAF. Car park and Mesnes Park very different… and don’t get me started on Saddle Junction –
YASMIN. You will get there, Shazia.
SHAZIA. You know, your English is so much better, Yas–
YASMIN. I have the citizenship test next.
CHRIS. You’ll be fine – your English is great!
YASMIN. Thank you but the English is not it. I need to know about Henry 8th daughter – the Bloody Mary –
ASHRAF. Yasmin!
CHRIS. That’s her name –
ASHRAF. You must not defend this language –
YASMIN. And for how many years you defend against Romans, and what bird you eat on your Christmas festival –
ASHRAF. Turkey of course – this is easy.
YASMIN. Oh yes – how you say? A slice of the cake?
CHRIS. Thinking about it though, some people like a ham on Christmas Day –
SHAZIA. Chris!
CHRIS. What?
SHAZIA. We don’t eat ham!
CHRIS. You don’t celebrate Christmas either!
ASHRAF. Someone has to drive the drunk idiots on Christmas Day!
CHRIS. Seriously though – no bacon? You don’t know what you’re missing!
SHAZIA. Chris!
CHRIS. What?!
ASHRAF. Swine is unclean, haram.
CHRIS. Yeah, probably if you hang it up in the desert heat for five days, but if you get it from the cold counter at Lidl it –
SHAZIA. For fuck’s sake, Chris!
A notification beeps on ASHRAF’s phone, he sees it and hurriedly turns on the radio.
RADIO.…Reports of a bomb blast at Manchester Airport – so far seven are reported dead and many injured in what is thought to be a clear act of Islamist terrorism.
The bomber is described as of Middle Eastern descent and reports suggest he shouted ‘Allahu Akbar’ meaning ‘God is great’ before the bomb was detonated.
ASHRAF turns off the radio, agitated.
ASHRAF. This is not Islam.
He picks up the phone to call YASMIN.
Salaam. Have you seen the news? (Pause.) I know I know, these stupid pig-licking dumb waiters making it harder.
(Pause.) Sorry. Look. Don’t leave the house. (Pause.) No, I’ll pick up some later, it can wait. Please promise me. (Pause.) Okay. Okay. Yasmin but please if you do go, don’t wear your scarf. I don’t mind. This one time… it’s not safe okay? Okay salaam salaam. (Pause.) And get me some biscuits… Bourbons, or Dark Chocolate Hobnobs. Yes. Just one more pick up then I’ll be home.
ASHRAF lights a fag and turns on the engine.
A string of calls going into voicemails – people can’t get hold of ASHRAF.
VOICEMAIL 1 – YUSUF. Brother – where are you? Call me back.
VOICEMAIL 2 – YUSUF. Ashraf. Pick up the phone, man. We need to talk.
VOICEMAIL 3 – YUSUF. I’m serious. I have letters here. Two car payments missed? So this is how you repay me? All these meetings means less shifts and missed payments. Call me right now!
VOICEMAIL 4 – JEAN. Now listen, I was chatting to Joan the other day and her nephew Charlie who works for this fast-food place. I were telling ’im about your sauce and he were dead interested. So next time you see Shaz give her a few bottles for me and I’ll pass it on. And I won’t ask for commission ’cause Shaz worries about you anyway, but don’t say I never do anything for you, eh? And how’s the new wife? Enjoying picking up your hundreds of half-drunk coffee mugs? Anyway, just gimme a bell when –
The machine beeps her out because she’s been talking too long.
ASHRAF has been beaten up and his cab is in tatters. He falls out of the cab onto the pavement outside his house, breathing heavily. He takes a moment to try and smarten himself up. YASMIN comes out.
ASHRAF. I’m sorry.
ASHRAF. It’s fine. I will be fine it –
A beat.
ASHRAF. They. They got in the cab. Wanted to go to The Gerrard Arms in Aspull. They said I wasn’t their mate. They call me Mohammad. I said I am good person and to please calm down. They asked me what I thought about the bomb in the airport. I said, I said any killing is bad. They said I was friends with ISIS, that I should go back to Syria and that they would burn me and stuff my face with bacon. I ask them to leave the taxi. I try to film it, to stop them – make them leave. They drag me out of the taxi and start to smash, cut the seats. I try to pull one off and he slams my eye with his elbow. I am hurt and they are big, strong men. There is nothing I can do. I have to stand there while they destroy my… my business, my life.
Silence.
I am so sorry, Yasmin.
ASHRAF. I should not have brought you here for this. I have nothing to offer –
YASMIN. That is not true! You have shared everything with me –
ASHRAF. It’s not enough. You deserve better. I am old… weak –
YASMIN. No, you deserve better. That taxi is not your life and neither are those stupid men. I am and Shazia is. These pigs can rot in their own shit. We will mend taxi, your eye will mend, and when you are on top of your feet we will launch your business. Together.
Pause.
Come, Ashraf – you are practically British – what do they say? Keep the calm and carry it on. We must carry. Stiff lips. Six months we will be Richard Branson. Yes?
Pause.
Yes?
ASHRAF. As long as you know that I am the boss.
YASMIN. Yes. Now let’s get you inside, boss man.
ASHRAF. Thank you.
YASMIN. You are hero.
We see YASMIN approach the car with a hand-held vacuum and cleaning products. She is tidying up after the attack. There’s glass everywhere and the car is a state. She takes a moment to look around the car.
YASMIN. Ashraf… my days. God was looking down on you.
There are mugs everywhere. She starts trying to stack them. She finds an old plastic bag and makes a bin.
How many? Never heard of washing up?
The same happens with old copies of The Sun. She reads a headline out loud.
‘Girl Sues KitKat for “Emotional Damage” as she’s left Waferless.’
She picks up another paper.
‘Gordon Ramsay Sex Dwarf Eaten by Badger.’ What is this trash?
She turns the page – sees the page-three girl staring back at her.
‘Lola says the tax on sugar is another example of the nanny state at work.’
Pause.
I think Lola is needs a nanny. To help her remember her clothes in the morning.
She stuffs the papers into a bin bag then reaches under his chair to find empty boxes of cigarettes stuffed under the seat.
‘Yasmin, believe me… I stop smoking. Believe me!’ Lies! And I can smell the Joop. You think I’m stupid?
She gets out gaffer tape and begins to mend the ripped seats. She has made covers to make the car look nice.
She wipes down the taxi radio and accidentally switches it on and can hear YUSUF talking to other people. She sits in the driver’s seat and pretends to pick up a passenger.
Where you off to, mate? No problems… you having a nice day? The weather is nice…
She gets out ASHRAF’s prayer beads from her pocket and puts them back up proudly on the mirror.
We see YASMIN in the driver’s seat of the taxi. She is tying her headscarf into more of a modern style, like a bun. She applies her lipstick and her phone rings.
YASMIN. Habibi, I’m outside.
SHAZIA gets into the car.
SHAZIA. As-salaam alaikum. I didn’t expect you to be driving.
YASMIN. Yes, now I passed, here I am on the insurance.
SHAZIA. Great.
YASMIN. When your dad is better he will teach you.
SHAZIA. Erm… no. Better?
YASMIN. Yes… this is why I call you.
SHAZIA. What’s wrong with him?
YASMIN. He had some bad people in his taxi.
SHAZIA. What?
YASMIN. Don’t worry. He is ‘in the mend’.
SHAZIA. What did they do? I’ll kill them. Why didn’t he tell me? When did this happen? Why didn’t you call me?
YASMIN. Please, we didn’t want you to worry. He is okay.
SHAZIA. What did they do?
YASMIN. They smash the windows and with a key cut the seats.
SHAZIA. Was it racist? Was it a racist attack? Is he hurt?
YASMIN. He is lucky, believe me, but his eye is bad and he can’t drive.
SHAZIA wells up.
SHAZIA. Fucking dipshit dumbass uneducated fuck-stains. Did you go to the police?
YASMIN. Yes, but they have not found them yet. Don’t worry. God will have his plans for them.
Silence.
SHAZIA. What will you do for money? Do you need help? Look, I can go to the cash machine –
YASMIN. No.
SHAZIA. But how will you –
YASMIN. We have some donations through – from the mosque – see – religion is like family, it –
SHAZIA. But that won’t last long will it, how will you –
The radio crackles.
Wait… you’re not driving this thing, are you?
Silence.
Yasmin?
YASMIN. It’s fine. I have driver’s licence and sat nav. It’s good… I’m getting to know Wigan.
SHAZIA. What? You don’t have a taxi licence. you can’t just pick up people. And are you actually insured on this car?
YASMIN. It’s okay. As long as we have a good heart, God will protect us.
SHAZIA. Okay… I’m not sure if the police will see it that way. I don’t think I can let you do this.
YASMIN. Too late.
SHAZIA. How late?
YASMIN. Two days. I make very good money.
SHAZIA. But –
YASMIN. It needed to replace windscreen and windows… we must to make some money to pay back. So when your father is better he can come straight back to taxi.
SHAZIA. I can’t believe he let you do this!
A look.
He doesn’t know?!
YASMIN. I save – for his spicy sauce. I spoke to Wigan market for a pitch.
Pause.
He is too good for this taxi.
Pause.
I believe the saying is ‘what he doesn’t know didn’t kill him’. I can trust you. Yes?
SHAZIA. Yes. And while we’re telling secrets… I never wear a headscarf. And I don’t pray. I don’t even know the proper prayer thing.
YASMIN. What? This is bad. We must take you to the mosque to pray for forgiveness. Straight away.
A beat.
Shazia, I don’t care. You are my family. I know all this anyway… your father is bad liar!
The radio crackles. We hear YUSUF talking to a different driver about a job.
Right, now we pick up Mr Patel – let’s get him before whoever Yusuf sends. As the saying goes ‘one bird in hand is worth two big bushes’.
Both of their phones go at the same time. It’s a video from ASHRAF of a goat with a monkey riding on its back.
ASHRAF is sitting on the street next to the cab, smoking. He has an eye patch on and looks terrible. CHRIS approaches.
ASHRAF. I am busy.
CHRIS. Peace offering. Breakfast.
He hands over what looks like a bacon sandwich.
ASHRAF. Is this some sort of sick joke?
CHRIS. What? No no! Got it from Oliver Twist’s. It’s facon. Facon. Fake bacon?
ASHRAF. Yes?
CHRIS. Yep! All the goodness of bacon, none of the shame.
ASHRAF. Are you sure?
CHRIS. Er yeah.
ASHRAF. Then why not sell this in the halal shops?
CHRIS. Well, it’s not meat, is it? It’s more for the beardy vegans I think.
ASHRAF. Nothing wrong with beards.
CHRIS. I know. Try it then!
ASHRAF. Okay.
He bites into it.
CHRIS. Is it rank? Sorry. Should’ve known it’d be –
ASHRAF. No – no! Wait, it just needs something a little extra, hang on!
He goes to his car and gets out a pot of his sauce and pours it on.
Delicious. It just needed Ashraf’s special sauce! I should sell this at the mosque – would make a killing! Facon Butties. Spicy Facon. Finger Lickin’ Facon. Take On Some Facon.
CHRIS. Facon Fac-off?
ASHRAF. What?
CHRIS. Never mind.
ASHRAF. Right.
CHRIS. Ashraf. There was something I wanted to ask, something I should have asked a long time ago.
ASHRAF. Yes?
CHRIS. Would it be okay if I married Shaz? With you I mean. Do I have your permission?
ASHRAF. Does she know you’re here?
CHRIS. Er… no.
ASHRAF. She would say the permission is not for me to give.
CHRIS. Yeah. Yeah she would.
ASHRAF. But since she’s not here, then I will consider it.
CHRIS. What?
ASHRAF. Just my little joke. You have the permission.
CHRIS. Thanks. I am sorry about the whole Christmas-ham thing. I didn’t know it was such a big deal.
ASHRAF. The Manchester United is more of a concern.
CHRIS. Here’s one. What does a Wigan Athletic fan do when his team wins the league?
ASHRAF. Take his rightful place in history –
CHRIS. Turn off the PlayStation!
ASHRAF. Bloody dickhead.
ASHRAF is sat in the same spot. Still can’t drive, still not healed. There’s a collection of stuff around him – mugs, wrappers, fag butts, etc.
ASHRAF calls a number and we hear it ring.
VOICE ONE. Hello, Cinderella Carriage Hire – may I help?
ASHRAF. Oh hello. I’m wondering if I can get a quote for a wedding.
VOICE ONE. No problem, what month are we looking at?
ASHRAF. August.
VOICE ONE. And the length of the journey?
ASHRAF. About fifteen minutes.
VOICE ONE. Right okay, let me see. Well, of course, we have to book you in for an hour minimum – with a standard carriage, that’ll be approximately one thousand, eight hundred pounds.
ASHRAF. What? What if we get rid of a horse?
VOICE ONE. Excuse me?
ASHRAF. Just one horse – I don’t mind. And it can be an old one.
VOICE ONE. I’m very sorry, sir – it doesn’t work like that.
ASHRAF. And if we don’t have the man? I’ll ride the horse.
VOICE ONE. Well, firstly, nobody’s riding them, and legally we have to send one of our professional handlers out.
ASHRAF. I have much experience with horses. In the seventies my father –
VOICE ONE. Very sorry – it’s a legal requirement.
ASHRAF. Any discount? Please? I promised my daughter.
VOICE ONE. I’m afraid not. It’s also a peak month.
ASHRAF. Okay, okay, I compromise. Do you have any donkeys?
VOICE ONE hangs up.
Hello? Hello?
ASHRAF takes his beads off the mirror. He hesitates before he picks up his phone and dials another number.
YUSUF. As-salaam alaikum, Ashraf.
ASHRAF. Alaikum salaam. How are you?
YUSUF. I should be asking you this. How is your eye? Have you been resting?
ASHRAF. I’m wondering if you can do me a favour, brother?
YUSUF. Anything.
ASHRAF. Well, you know I haven’t been working. And I know I owe you already, believe me, but it’s Shazia’s wedding soon and I just need some help – a small loan for… just a few hundred. Of course I would pay it all back.
YUSUF. I am very surprised at you asking me this.
ASHRAF. What?
YUSUF. You say you are Muslim.
ASHRAF. Yes.
YUSUF. This wedding is forbidden – big sin, shame. And you dare to ask me to bring myself into this situation? To compromise my faith?
ASHRAF. Please, brother, it’s for Shazia, your niece – family.
YUSUF. You are no brother. This wedding must not be permitted. I urge you in the name of Allah.
ASHRAF. Right. Thank you for your time anyway.
YUSUF. This Western man is no good for Shazia.
ASHRAF. You haven’t met him.
YUSUF. And if you don’t do the right thing, you will face consequences.
ASHRAF. Of course.
ASHRAF hangs up and takes a minute. He calls SHAZIA.
SHAZIA. Hi, Dad, how are you feeling now? Your eye?
ASHRAF. Hey, baby, good – much better. How are you?
SHAZIA. Good. A bit stressed – starting to think making one thousand paper cranes wasn’t such good luck after all!
ASHRAF. Those bloody cranes – you roped in Yasmin too! Our house is full!
SHAZIA. Sorry, Dad! Is everything okay at your end?
ASHRAF. The horse and cart… it’s… it’s all booked. The one you wanted!
SHAZIA. Aah – amazing! Thanks, Dad, it’s a dream come true.
ASHRAF. Anyway, I’ve got to go, I’ll call you later.
ASHRAF hangs up and searches on his phone, dials.
VOICE TWO. Hello – welcome to Bonga Loans. May I take your name please?
ASHRAF. Mr Abd El Hakim.
VOICE TWO. And how can I help you today Mr Abd El Hakim?
YASMIN goes out to the cab – he sees her.
ASHRAF. Forget it. You are leeches off the poor and needy. I work bloody hard for my money.
ASHRAF hangs up.
YASMIN is in the taxi. We hear YUSUF say something about The Galleries, YASMIN fires up the engine. Her phone rings, she picks up.
YASMIN. Yusuf.
YUSUF. Yasmin, good, I was hoping to speak to you at mosque but you left so quickly.
YASMIN. Yes – I needed to get back to Ashraf – he’s still very sore.
YUSUF. Right.
YASMIN. Right.
YUSUF. When do you think he’ll be driving again?
YASMIN. Tomorrow. He is determined. It is too soon, but he is stubborn.
YUSUF. You need to talk to him, Yasmin.
YASMIN. I do – every day!
YUSUF. About this wedding. You know it’s haram.
YASMIN. Shazia is not a practising Muslim.
YUSUF. Even worse. We will lose her for good if this happens.
YASMIN. Who is this ‘we’.
YUSUF. You’ll have to disown her. It will be hard but we will be here for you.
YASMIN. Another ‘we’.
YUSUF. There are things you don’t know, Yasmin. I have had to support Ashraf financially. That taxi –
YASMIN. I do know, Yusuf. I know he’s paying installments to you. I know he’s been struggling to make payments. I know you charge interest. I know you don’t support his ambitions to have his own business.
YUSUF. The sauce? I thought you would be a good influence. I campaigned for Abdelal to match you.
YASMIN. Well, thank you for your help.
YUSUF. Yasmin, I hate to say this but you will have big problems if this wedding goes ahead. The community will not stand for –
YASMIN. Sorry, Yusuf, I have to go –
YUSUF. Where?
YASMIN. The Galleries.
YUSUF. That’s strange – I’ve just sent a car –
YASMIN starts the engine.
It’s not… it’s you? Been cutting in on our jobs. You?
YASMIN. I don’t know what you’re talking about.
YUSUF. Does Ashraf know about this?
YASMIN. Oh, go play with yourself, Yusuf, yes?
She hangs up.
ASHRAF is back in his cab, bruised and tired, still with the eye patch. His phone rings.
JEAN. What’s this about you not walking her down the aisle?
ASHRAF. Hello, ex-wife. Yes I am fine thank you so much. And you?
JEAN. I bloody mean it? What’s wrong with you?
ASHRAF. It is enough that I am allowing it at all!
JEAN. She’s your daughter – she loves you to bits – think how much it’d mean –
ASHRAF. No. If people find out, the community –
JEAN. Oh, for God’s sake – you married me, and I’m about as Muslim as Bernard Manning drinking a pint of bloody snakebite! Do what you want – it doesn’t matter what those extremists –
ASHRAF. They’re not bloody extremists, they’re devout –
JEAN. They can be all of the forty virgins rolled into one for all I care – just walk your daughter down the bloody aisle –
ASHRAF. You are not the boss of me any more!
JEAN. There were three of us in that marriage. Don’t let Yusuf ruin this too.
JEAN hangs up.
ASHRAF. Bloody rude fishwife nag horse.
The car is full of energy drinks and empty coffee cups. ASHRAF’s still wearing an eye patch. He’s undone quite a few buttons revealing the vest underneath his shirt. The song ‘Bad Boys’ by Inner Circle is on and he’s singing manically.
SHAZIA and CHRIS get in the car, they look a bit alarmed. CHRIS tries to show his improvement.
CHRIS. As-salaam alaikum, Ashraf.
ASHRAF. You too, brother. You like reggae, man? This bit’s for you, Shaz!
He sings again until:
SHAZIA. Dad! Stop!
ASHRAF. It’s true though, habibi – you wanna let go, and I got to let you innit!
CHRIS. Ashraf, are you okay?
ASHRAF. Oh yeah, just working a lot, man – only the best for my Shazia, so got to be a pirate for a while yeah? Sailing these treachorous Wigan road-seas to bring home the booty… bounty yes?
SHAZIA. Should you really be working?
ASHRAF (snapping). When will you learn you do not question your father. Of course I should be bloody dogshit working.
A slightly awkward silence, ASHRAF nods along to the beat.
CHRIS. So what’s with the reggae then, mate?
ASHRAF. A gift from one of the drug-dealers I pick up – I told him about how I used to smoke so much weed I got paranoid and he left it as a parting gift.
CHRIS. You used to smoke weed?!
ASHRAF. Course bloody not! But you got to fit in, man. Always fit in.
CHRIS. So you don’t mind picking up dealers?
ASHRAF. Business is business and if you need to provide for my Shazia you better learn that quick-smart like Hussain Bolt.
It is for Allah to judge, not me. They don’t bother me, I don’t bother them. Simples.
A pause.
You don’t like reggae?
CHRIS. I do, yeah, I love reggae.
ASHRAF. Well sing then, boy! Come on, habibi, you know this one!
He starts to sing ‘One Love/People Get Ready’ by Bob Marley & The Wailers.
Come on, you party poopers, sing!
CHRIS and SHAZIA join in – reluctantly at first.
ASHRAF pulls over and suddenly looks incredibly tired and drawn. He scrabbles around for some paracetamol but there are none left. He pulls himself together.
Come, let’s go, Yasmin has been cooking for you all day.
SHAZIA. Just a sec, Dad.
ASHRAF. What, what is this? Yasmin will put my head in her blender if we are late. You know she’s passed her citizenship test?
SHAZIA. What?! No! Oh my God, Dad. That’s great news!
ASHRAF. Yes. I am stuck with her for good. How you say… hag-ridden?! Come!
SHAZIA. Dad. She won’t mind a couple of minutes. There’s something I want to ask you.
ASHRAF (snapping). For the love of all that is holy, Shazia,
I’ve told you I will do the horses but I cannot walk you down the aisle of this heathen wedding! What will people say?
SHAZIA. I know. I wasn’t going to ask that. I was just thinking –
ASHRAF. What? What were you thinking!
SHAZIA. About all the fun times we’ve had in this taxi… singing, shouting at people, laughing –
ASHRAF. You’re right. It has not all been work and drug-dealers and racist fucking English and such. This old donkey has served us well.
SHAZIA. Exactly. And you know I’m not too sold on the horses – I mean, what if I get kicked in the face again. You know… I’d like you to drive me to my wedding in this. This donkey would do me proud.
ASHRAF. You really mean this?
CHRIS. It’d be wrong to have it any other way.
ASHRAF. Okay, I will have to see if I can get back my deposit, but you are right of course – horses are for heathens anyway. I will shine her up, good as new, put the ribbons on there –
SHAZIA. Thanks, Dad!
He gets some mini Union Jack flags out of his glove box and hands them out.
ASHRAF. You must act surprised when Yasmin breaks this news, she will gut me like a fish if I told you first.
ASHRAF (now without the eye patch) is out of the car, smoking, enjoying the sunshine on his break. His phone rings, he picks up.
YUSUF. Ashraf.
ASHRAF. Yusuf.
YUSUF. I hear it is going ahead. Shazia’s marrying an infidel.
ASHRAF. Yes. She is very stubborn – I cannot change her mind.
YUSUF. This is very grave, brother. I am sorry.
ASHRAF. Yes. Me too.
YUSUF. The Koran is very clear on this: ‘Believers should not take Kafirs as friends in preference to other believers. Those who do this will have none of Allah’s protection and will only have themselves as guards.’
ASHRAF. I have read it. Thanks.
YUSUF. Allah will no longer look over Shazia. The shame brother! Haram!
ASHRAF. Stop. Shazia is a good Muslim girl, and Chris is a kind man and they love each other –
YUSUF. You know that this is forbidden.
ASHRAF. What would you have me do?
YUSUF. You must disown her.
ASHRAF. I think it’s time you looked to the Koran for your own behavior. What about leaving aside what does not concern you?
YUSUF. You are my brother, Ashraf, of course it concerns me. I hear you are attending.
ASHRAF. I’m just driving her.
YUSUF. In the taxi? If you go through with this we will have to call in the loan. No more taxi – we cannot be associated with –
ASHRAF. Yusuf, listen carefully because in the words of that brilliant Muslim programme, Allo Allo, I will say this only once. Shazia is twice the man you will ever be and so is Chris and I’m fairly sure that Allah can work that out.
YUSUF. You know Yasmin’s been driving your taxi? Your women are not in your control.
ASHRAF. Of course I know. Bloody just fuck off!
ASHRAF hangs up and lights a fag.
SHAZIA and CHRIS are waiting in the taxi. There’s a bit of an atmosphere. The car radio is playing Arabic music. SHAZIA has henna up both her arms.
CHRIS. He’s taking his time.
SHAZIA. Probably a number two.
CHRIS. Nice.
Silence.
Look, I’ve said I’m sorry. I’ve taken it off Facebook – no one’s going to see it.
SHAZIA. I know.
CHRIS. They were stupid. They just thought it would be funny.
SHAZIA. I know they did. They’re fucking ignorant. I just can’t understand why you didn’t stop them.
CHRIS. It’s my stag do. I can’t just say, ‘sorry guys, I can’t wear a burka today because it might offend Shaz’s stepmother,’ can I?
SHAZIA. It’s offended me! And it’s not even a burka it’s a fucking hijab.
CHRIS. You always used to laugh at this sort of thing. And what’s all this stuff on your arm anyway?
SHAZIA. It’s henna.
CHRIS. Right. Course.
SHAZIA. What?
CHRIS. Nothing!
SHAZIA. Seriously, Chris. What is it?
CHRIS. It’s just.
Pause.
Well, what are you gonna wear? On the actual wedding?
SHAZIA. It’s a secret, isn’t it.
CHRIS. Yeah. Sure, but, just – I know you’ve been getting closer to your culture and that’s great, but I just – well –
SHAZIA. Well what, Chris?
CHRIS. I’d just rather know, you know, if you’re planning on rocking up in a burka… hijab or whatever –
SHAZIA. Right.
CHRIS. Fuck’s sake.
Silence.
I’m never going to say the right thing, Shaz. I’m a blunt instrument and you know that. I just. It’s all new. And I know it’s a big part of you and it’s important and Lord knows I love the falafel and stuff, it’s just… when we met I didn’t see any of that. I just saw you. And I’ve been brought up very… well… white. And my friends and family are even worse than me, and I guess I’m scared it’s all going to be a bit well, alien, different and not what anyone expects. When all I really want to do is just marry my best friend. So…
SHAZIA. I love you, Chris. I’m wearing a white dress.
CHRIS. Cool.
SHAZIA. With a white lace niqab.
CHRIS. Right. Great, that’s great.
SHAZIA. Joke! I’m joking!
CHRIS. Okay. Phew. Fuck’s sake.
It’s the morning of the wedding and ASHRAF is having a fag. YASMIN comes out with ribbons and a rag to polish the taxi. ASHRAF stubs out the fag quickly and wafts the smoke.
YASMIN. Ashraf.
ASHRAF. Sorry. Just… this wedding. Stress.
YASMIN. I know.
ASHRAF surveys the taxi.
ASHRAF. He’s been a faithful friend.
YASMIN. One last journey.
ASHRAF. He might let me keep him.
YASMIN. Don’t hold your breathing eh – you will suffocate!
Pause.
ASHRAF. We might be a bit tight for money, for a while anyway, until I get a job –
YASMIN. It’s okay. Here.
She hands him a wadge of cash.
ASHRAF. What is this?
YASMIN. From the, er… sewing, and my allowance. I save. It’s time to start on Ashraf Special Sauce Facon Butties properly. I speak to Wigan market – they have space.
ASHRAF. That’s a lot of sewing.
YASMIN. Yes. Yes it is.
ASHRAF. Thank you.
The cab has been decked out with ribbons and ASHRAF is smart in a suit and tie. He waits solemnly. SHAZIA enters in a white gown.
ASHRAF. Habibi. My habibi. You are beautiful.
SHAZIA. Oh, shut up, Dad, don’t, you’ll start me off again!
ASHRAF. No bridesmaids?
SHAZIA. They’re at the venue. I thought it’d be nice for you and me to have some time.
Pause.
It looks awesome, Dad.
ASHRAF. Yes – well it seems Yasmin was doing some moonlighting!
SHAZIA. Er –
ASHRAF. Sewing apparently. It’s fine… turns out we’re all as crazy as each other. Come.
They get in the cab.
SHAZIA. What’s that smell?
ASHRAF. Ashraf’s Special Sauce Pie Balls – for the guests.
SHAZIA. Great.
She takes the Joop and starts to spray it to cover the smell.
Go on then, crank up the tunes! And put your foot down – Chris hates it when I’m late.
ASHRAF. That bloody cow-licker can wait. He’s the luckiest man on God’s earth.
SHAZIA. Music please, Dad! And his name is Chris!
ASHRAF puts on SHAZIA’s favourite Arabic tune ‘I’m Not a Heathen’ and cranks it up.
ASHRAF. You know you can still change your mind? Omar still wanting a wife for his nephew.
SHAZIA. Thanks for that, Dad – it’s good to have a back-up plan, but I’ve sort of made my mind up now.
ASHRAF. Well, you know the prophet said that when you get married you have completed half of your religion. So I guess half is better than none!
SHAZIA. Exactly – and to be fair, I’m only half Muslim.
ASHRAF. She would’ve converted if I’d asked her.
SHAZIA. Ha!
ASHRAF. And that veil is almost a hijab.
SHAZIA. It’s all for you, Dad!
They sing along for a bit. ASHRAF pulls over.
ASHRAF. I’ve got something for you.
SHAZIA. You shouldn’t have – you can’t aff–
ASHRAF. Shut up, woman! I am your father – respect at all times! It’s for your customs. Something ‘old’.
ASHRAF unchains a thin chain from around his neck, on it is a ring.
SHAZIA. What is it?
ASHRAF. It’s my wedding ring. To your mother. I hope it brings you luck.
SHAZIA pulls a face – their marriage ended in divorce!
I mean it, habibi! We were very happy, we just made some mistakes. I listened to the wrong people, no flexible. I wasn’t as wise as you, but we loved each other very much.
He puts the necklace on her.
And if you can’t bloody embrace Islam then why don’t you bloody embrace Wigan? your mother made the best Yorkshire puddings I have ever tasted. All you’ve ever made me is Pot Noodle Chicken and Mushroom! Some bloody wife you’ll be!
SHAZIA. Dad! Language! (Pause.) Any more nuggets of wisdom before I go in?
ASHRAF. Yes. Don’t be a jacket potato.
SHAZIA. Er what?
ASHRAF. You heard! Don’t be like jacket potato. Sitting around watching Jeremy Kyle all day. Not good for marriage or career.
SHAZIA. I think you mean couch potato, Dad. You know, on the couch?
ASHRAF. Whatever, work hard, at everything. That’s my wisdom for you.
SHAZIA. Thanks.
ASHRAF. Are you okay?
SHAZIA. Bit scared I guess.
ASHRAF. It’s okay, habibi. I’ll be with you all the way.
SHAZIA. You’re walking me?
ASHRAF. Bloody course I am – I need to look that cow-licker Kevin in the eye when I give you away. So he knows what’s bloody coming to him if he ever steps out of the line. Not that you are my possession to give him, of course. You are independent woman just like Beyoncé.
SHAZIA bursts into tears.
Don’t cry! I joke. I know his name is Chris.
Silence.
SHAZIA. Right. I’m ready.
ASHRAF. Let’s go then!
They get out of the car. SHAZIA takes his arm. He pats the car in a silent goodbye. They walk round the car to the front of the space.
(Singing under his breath.) HERE COMES THE BRIDE, ALL FAT AND WIDE!
SHAZIA elbows him in the ribs. The cab fades away. Big smiles, the flash of a camera. The music kicks in. Lights.
The End.