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with nothing and no one to her name. Maybe I’ll go for elocution lessons and learn to say ‘simply marvellous’ or ‘what-ho chaps.’ Carmel put on a silly posh accent and Sharif chucked. ‘Please don’t. I don’t ever want you to change, not one single thing. When I was at university, I worked very hard. My mother and father did the same, my father almost worked himself to death when he came here, but he wanted better for me, for my mother. He had corner shops, cliché, I know, but it was a business a young Pakistani immigrant could get a start in, and if you worked hard enough, you could expand it. People see me now, with Aashna House and all of it, but I’m from very humble people, hard-working people, who knew the value of a pound. Their blood is in my veins and yes, now I live in luxury, so does my mother, but it wasn’t always like this and I care very little for the trappings of wealth. I’m not a member of their clubs nor do I own a boat or a horse. I’m a simple man, with simple needs and desires. When Jamilla died, I never imagined I’d ever feel like that about anyone ever again. I knew her all my life, our parents were friends and she got it, you know? Her father and mine emigrated together, we grew up together. Weird as it might sound, she would have loved you. She had no time for that whole social climbing business either. She got that I didn’t want to be a doctor so I could make lots of money; I did it because I really wanted to make a difference to people’s lives. ‘I don’t fit in with those people, Tristan and Angelica and all of them, they just see the clinic and they calculate the money I must be making and decide to befriend me based on that. I normally refuse all those invitations, but I do want to be involved with the conference, there’s some cutting-edge stuff up for discussion there, particularly on the use of cannabis for medicinal purposes. Also, I forgot what a pain Angelica can be and I thought it might be nice for you to make some friends, but they’re not your type of people either. I’m sorry, I just want you to be happy here, I don’t want you to think you made a mistake.’ ‘Sharif, I have never been so bloody happy in my life. How can you be worried? I love it here, I love Aashna House, England, the patients, the staff, and I especially love the fact that I can feel closer to my mother here. You’ve saved my life.’ Chapter 7 Carmel’s pager buzzed; Marlena had paged her to come to reception. The head teacher from the local primary school wanted to see the events coordinator. For the first time since she got to Aashna, she felt tired. She wasn’t sleeping. Her mother was on her mind all the time, so many questions just swirling around her head. Sharif had taken her to Brighton, to where he and his mother had scattered Dolly’s ashes, and showed her the tree they had planted in her memory. ‘Dolly Mullane, mother and friend “Que sera sera”,’ was on the inscription. She asked Sharif to put ‘mother’ on it in case Carmel ever found her, which touched her, but left her with more questions to which nobody had answers. Who was her father? Was he still alive? Would he want to
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