The Colonel's Mistress

By Hugh McGerrel

This exciting tale begins in England and then moves to Christchurch and Akaroa, New Zealand, in the midst of the turmoil of the 2010 and 2011 earthquakes.
This is more than a simple story of a runaway bride. Dishonour and shame are only a part of her troubles. She becomes intensely and passionately involved in a new way of life. However, there are multiple factors at work that conspire to put her life, and the lives of all around her, into serious danger.
She struggles to maintain her life and dreams against the machinations of deviant officials. She finds that she is lost in a bewildering world of corruption and deceit. Every time she dodges capture by one or other of her enemies, she discovers that there is another one hot on her tail. The Bombay cousins, her father, her stepmother, the police, immigration officials, evangelists, all seem to have an agenda beyond her ken. Throughout all her trials she works towards creating a new life for herself somewhere in the world. The climax finally reveals that she is enmeshed in a dark and dangerous world which threatens not only her own life, but that of others she has come to love.
The author wrote this story for fun and expects that it will be fun and a joy to read.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Hugh McGerrel
• Release date: Feb 28, 2014
• ISBN: 9780473278786

Hugh McGerrel

Happy, contented old man

Book preview

The Colonel's Mistress

A Novel

by

Hugh Mc Gerrel

Published by

Writers Own Press

2014

Published in ebook format at Smashwords.com

© Copyright Hugh Mc Gerrel 2014. All Rights Reserved

ISBN: 978-0-473-27878-6

Paperback limited edition published in New Zealand, February 2014

By Writers Own Press ©

ISBN: 978-0-473-27877-9

Cover: Daly’s Wharf by Moonlight, Akaroa by Hugh McGerrel ©

First Published by Hugh McGerrel as an ebook with the title, Runaway or Die.

14th June 2013

at Smashwords.com

ISBN: 9781301518876

This is a work of fiction. All the characters are created out of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental.

* * *

Chapter I

Escape

Shendra, are you in some sort of trouble? You've been distracted and looking a bit worried lately.

Yes, you are right, Emily. I'm becoming worried and scared. I know I am being stalked; being watched. I just feel it. I sense danger but I don't know what it is or how to protect myself. I don't know who I can trust. I need someone; perhaps a boyfriend who would protect me. That's ironic, isn't it? I think that's what they are trying to keep me from. The source of the danger is the very thing that should be looking out for me... my family. My social life is very limited and carefully monitored by my father. He will turn up to collect me and take me home from evening functions. I don't tell him where I am but he mysteriously turns up and tries to pretend that he is simply doing me a favour. He always knows exactly where I am and what I'm doing.

God, Shendra; that sounds bloody spooky to me. In fact, it's worse than spooky. You know that tall man from the psych lab; the one that seemed to be interested in you for a while... you know the one?

Yes, I rather liked him, but he is suddenly keeping his distance.

Well, Shendra... I know why. He joined me for coffee this morning. He wanted to know all about you. He told me that some pair of well dressed toughs had bailed him up and told him to keep away from you. They said you are off limits, that you are not available. Keep away. Or else. No more warnings. He asked me if you are married, or promised to some rich mogul, or royalty.

Oh Emily, I don't know what's going on. It will be my father up to his tricks again. He's a control freak but I didn't know he would go this far. After all, I am a grown woman. I think he is trying to protect me from the world for reasons of his own.

Is it something to do with his or your Indian background.?

I haven't a clue, Emily. I'm only guessing that it's my father. He is not an easy man to talk to, but I'm going to have to confront him about this nonsense.

He's not going to whisk you off to Pakistan and sell you off in marriage to some old man, is he? I've read of lots of cases of that happening.

I laughed. No. Pakistan is not where my family come from. It would be India or Fiji, not Pakistan. Oh dear! It's not funny is it.

I think we should look up a website to see if there is a support group for people in your position. We can use a computer here at the university so that he doesn't find out what you are up to.

Emily, I've already started looking and I registered myself. Come: I'll show you what I have found out so far. Not much comfort though.

* * *

My name is Shendra Khan. I was born in London in 1988 and moved to Fordwich in Kent when I was five or six. My mother was cold and distant. I came to understand why she was like that when I discovered that she was not my birth mother. I have not been able to find any trace of my real mother but it is clear from her name on my birth certificate that she was not of Fiji-Indian descent as is claimed by my father. I suspect that she was an English woman and that she and my father were not married. I guess that she must have run away from him when I was about two to three years old. I have no recollection of her. My father is a Fijian Indian who immigrated to the UK to serve in the British Army. My step-mother was married to my father during his holiday visit to Fiji in 1990. It was an arranged marriage decided by their two families. My step-mother generally related to me kindly but with little warmth.

I was at the end of my third year of study at Kent University in Canterbury, when I confronted my parents, they revealed that an arranged marriage was planned for me. I was aghast. It was just as Emily and I had thought. I was determined that it was not going to happen to me, but I pretended to gradually acquiesce. I continued my usual routines although I knew I was being watched. My demeanour was clearly changed. In my own mind, I felt fearful. Actually it was more than fear; it was really a state of terror. I followed the news articles about the sad case of a young woman in London who was murdered by her uncles because she tried to flee from an arranged marriage. That really alarmed me. I did not think individual rights would be violated so blatantly in our modern society. The Home Office web site had lots of advice and contact numbers to call. I knew better than to try to connect to them from home; Emily and I used the university facilities and contacted them anonymously. They were very concerned for my safety.

I could no longer relate in the same way to my parents or my sisters. I had always been very close to my half sisters, Ranjana and Kavita. They were both very beautiful and much darker in every way than me. I love them dearly. They were often seeking my views about the ‘modern’ world, but I had become reserved and secretive. I did not know what to tell them especially about my inner thoughts.

I asked my ‘mother’ about my university studies for the next year. She said, Your intended -in-laws agree that you should continue your studies and complete your masters. You will have to talk to them about that when we all meet next week-end.

Oh Shit, I thought. Their plans for my marriage are well advanced and I have not a clue who my husband is to be. When I told Emily she urged me to act quickly.

* * *

The next day, I went into the university as was my habit, saying I had books to return to the Templeman Library. Once I was on campus I went first to Student admin. I went to the student enrolment desk and explained that I had to withdraw my enrolment for the forthcoming academic year and obtained a refund for the fees I had paid for the next year. It was surprisingly easy – my bank account was suddenly nearly £9000 in credit! My father is going to be livid when he finds out.

I went to the library, returned the books and then I walked to Canterbury West Train Station. I took out my phone and texted the Forced Marriage Unit 02070080151: im escaping. on train to heathrow term 3. shendra khan’

I had a reply within minutes: someone can meet u. When do u arrive.

I replied: if i make the rite tube connections. about 1610

text on ur arrival at t3. fmu

I was excited but scared stiff and I was hungry. The train seemed to be the slowest ever. When I changed trains at Paddington I was able to buy a sandwich. I felt that I needed to keep my strength up but food did not stop my knees from trembling.

Once on the Heathrow Connect train I felt more secure. Only 35 minutes to go. I looked through my backpack which had been my daily companion since I had started at Kent University. I was checking that I had the essentials. I wasn’t able to pack much because it had to look like a normal day when I left home. I had my passport, my phone, my laptop, a couple of changes of underwear and a jersey in case of cold weather, shorts and another top. I had no idea what the temperatures would be in Vancouver. I would have to buy what I needed when I got there. I was wearing jeans and a light blouse. That was now the extent of all my worldly possessions. This was an adventure that I had not been expecting.

I got off the train and started along the platform to the main concourse, texting the FMU as I walked, so, I was caught by surprise when my arm was gripped and my father said, Where are you going, my darling daughter?

Oh my god! I… I, I am, I am just coming to meet someone.

"Oh, that’s alright then. I’ll be able to give you a lift home, won’t I? Who are you meeting?’

I didn’t know what to say. I just jabbered some nonsense. My father’s grip was hurting and he was pushing me on forcefully. I thought that my little escape plan was over and things were not going to be very nice for me. And then there was someone tugging my other arm. A woman’s voice said,

Shendra? Shendra? I am Tanita Menzies from the FMU. Are you alright?

I gasped out, Help. Help me!

Then there were two policemen blocking our path.

Sir, let go that woman. Let go!

My father yelled at me, right in my face, Shendra, I can’t believe that you would do this. I just can’t believe it. You are dishonouring your whole family.

I yelled back at him, I can’t believe that you would do this to me!

The FMU lady piped up, "Let’s go somewhere more private.

I’m not going without my daughter.

The cops went each side of him and talking quietly led us into an empty office space. My father, however, was not in any mood to hear any one else. He still was shouting.

Why the hell are you going to Canada, Shendra? Do you think we will not find you there? You are going to be very bloody sorry for the disgrace you are bringing on our family. We have family everywhere. We will find you. Goodbye and good, good rid good…

He couldn’t bring himself to say it. He turned and stamped out.

The lady from the Forced Marriage Unit was very kind and said that she would take me through the embarkation process, but I told her through my tears that I would have to go somewhere else now.

My father will try and track me down. He must have been hacking into my computer searches for suitable flights. I should have been more careful.

I knew that there was a flight to New Zealand a little later. She accompanied me through the process of purchasing a ticket with my credit card for a late flight to Auckland, New Zealand and right through to the boarding area. She gave me a standard official printed letter bearing a Foreign and Commonwealth Office letterhead. She had written on it, by hand, a note saying that she had assisted me with my transit and in the event of any problems, officials should contact her for more information. She even went to the trouble of going away and returning with a small battered suitcase so that I would look like a genuine tourist.

That may help you avoid any suspicious immigration officials, she said. "Don’t try to enter New Zealand as a resident. You can apply for residency later. Go as a tourist and if asked, say you were intending to do some work to get around the country. They permit some working holiday visas but I don’t know the details. If they stop you, use the letter I gave you. We do work in together with most Commonwealth country’s immigration officials. If they know your predicament they may even be able to give you refugee status. If you get sent back here use that same phone number again.

The flight was long and boring. I didn’t know how I would cope with such a long flight but despite my agitated mind I did sleep for a lot of the time. During a refuelling stopover in Hong Kong I was able to buy some extra personal items and a tourist guide to New Zealand. I was starting to adopt the role of a tourist. I bought some food items to carry but on the last leg of my journey I was given immigration forms and a declaration card to fill in which stated that I was not able to take any food items into New Zealand. Food had to be discarded. I had to answer a number of questions regarding my intentions such as the purpose of my visit and how long I was going to stay. I put down two to three months. That should give me enough time to make some decisions.

On arrival we were all guided like sheep into pens. I dropped my uneaten fruit into the conspicuous bins and followed the crowd to the luggage carousel and eventually found myself at a desk where an official took my declaration card and my passport.

You don’t seem to have any plans and you have given no contact address. Why do you want to visit New Zealand?

I didn’t know what to say. Thinking was beyond me and then the tears began to flow. The official was watching me closely. I could feel eyes on me from every direction.

Why are you entering New Zealand? Are you carrying any drugs?

I blurted out, I had to get away from someone. I handed him the letter from the FMU.

I was taken into a private room where I was left to wait a long time. I was watched by someone through a murky window. Eventually the door opened and two stern looking women began asking me a lot of questions about whether I intended to work in New Zealand and how much money did I bring with me. They looked at one another and then rose and left me alone in the room once again. I thought I was going to be on the next plane out.

After some time:- it seemed like forever, another official in a suit came in. He was bearded and wore a turban. He sat and just looked at me for some minutes occasionally looking down at a file of papers. Finally, he said, "Shendra, I will give you some advice; unofficial advice. I am guessing from your name on your passport that you are of Indian descent. There is a large Indian population here in Auckland. You may want to venture further south perhaps and anglicise or change your name for casual contacts but, not of course, for official dealings. For that you should use your passport names. Now I am giving you a six month working visa. If you want to stay longer you should apply to Immigration Services. These pamphlets will explain everything. You are free to go. Enjoy New Zealand. Good luck.

Wow! The relief swept over me. I floated out of the building into the bright fresh air of a New Zealand morning. I had a few more decisions to make. Coffee – that’s what I need. I am totally alone. I need someone I can talk with, but I know no one. I followed the signs to the domestic terminal, found a café and set up my laptop. I opened a blank page to type a list of things I needed to do. I thought of my father trying to track me down. He could very well guess my changed travel plan and have people in the Indian community looking out for me at Auckland Airport. I should not hang about here. But, wherever I went, my credit card transactions would show up on the statements mailed to my home address. I had no doubt he would open and read them. I felt an urgent need to move on, but I had to empty my bank and credit card accounts to block the trail of my movements. I had to do that before I went anywhere else. I made the decision to stay in Auckland for a maximum of five days. That should give me enough time to max out my credit card and my bank debit card.

I started an email to my friend, Emily in Canterbury in Kent and then with a shock I had a vision of my father poking in to my web mail accounts and seeing every message I sent. I still had my phone but I knew that GPS tracking would make its use risky.

I got out my phone and noted all the contact numbers I wanted to keep and then removed the SIM card and destroyed it. I would buy a new phone and get a New Zealand internet provider for my computer. My father had ruled my life for long enough. I felt at that moment that I was my own person; an independent woman.

I enjoyed those five days in Auckland. I found a backpackers’ hostel as a base and played the part of a tourist. I felt good. This was the start of a new life. I bought a few clothes appropriate to my new situation and strong shoes for exploring my new world. I found a phone shop and bought a new phone and got hooked up to their internet service. I even used my new name; Tanita McLean, Tina for short. I had a bit of trouble getting a bank account. I had to use my passport name and because I didn’t have a fixed address I could have only a limited account with a debit card and no cheques or internet banking access.

I set up a gmail account using an alias: no1swife. I sent an email to Emily saying that I was enjoying a holiday but, gave her no details of my location. I asked her to call my stepmother to say that I was well. I added in underlined text: do not give my email address to my parents. I desperately wanted to talk to my sisters but that was too risky.

On the afternoon of Thursday, the second day of September, I took a flight to Christchurch.

The tourist guide described Christchurch as the most English of New Zealand cities and the largest in the South Island. Its Englishness is a bit of an overstatement. It has some beautiful stone buildings and is very English in places, but it is not English like my lovely city of Canterbury. The old university, now called the Arts Centre is located over the road from the Backpacker Hostel where I have made myself at home. I looked forward to a quiet night. I needed to collect my thoughts and think what I should do next. I had been well established in my university programme majoring in psychology. I was looking forward to my final professional year and now I am in a strange new world with no job experience and incomplete qualifications. I will have to find work before my funds are all gone.

The thought of my father tracking me from the other side of the world was always uppermost in my mind even though I was in the midst of good company. The camaraderie among the backpackers was great for morale. It was impossible to be glum in their company. I became very friendly with one Kiwi girl who was a bubbly ball of fun. Gretchen was a laugh a minute. She volunteered herself to be my personal guide.

Tomorrow, she said, I will show you around the city. But, tonight, I can see you need a bit of spirit lifting. Fun and frolics. That’s what you need. I’ll take you to The Strip. That’s an area of the central city along the river bank. It is alive at night. There are restaurants, bars, bands, night clubs. So get out your best gear and away we’ll go.

"I don’t have any best gear. I’m travelling light.

Never fear when Gretchen’s near, she laughed. Those tight jeans will do. They show off your arse nicely. Your top is a bit naff though. Let me fix it up.

She boldly took my blouse, un-tucked it from my jeans, undid the bottom buttons tied it up exposing my midriff. Wow, I was transformed. I could imagine how my father would have reacted if I had tried to go out of the house like this. But, what the hell I thought, He’s not here so I will live a little for a change!

Gretchen grabbed my hand and pulled me out the door and away we went, down the footpath, laughing and giggling. The Strip was just a short walk away, but the atmosphere was amazing. People were dancing and cavorting right out on to the street. Gretchen waved to a group of girls sitting at a set of tables. Even in my innocence I could see that they were different. Gretchen introduced me.

This is my new friend, Tina. She’s new here – from England. Oh, and I think she’s straight so keep your kinky hands off her.

Everybody laughed but they gave me a fine welcome. Most of Gretchen’s friends were fellow university students and I was able to glean a few bits of information about enrolling next year. It seemed that I would have to become a New Zealand resident or else pay huge fees as a foreign student. One girl was a psychology major. She described the degree structure as being a little bit different from the English system. She was doing her fourth year which she called her ‘honours year’. She seemed to think that was what I would have to do if I wanted to work in psych. All was good humoured and I was soon enjoying the joking and banter. But, although I could enjoy the fun and the talk, I didn’t have any inclination to touch or kiss as most of them were doing. I liked boys and that was that. At least I knew where I stood. But there were no males hanging around this particular group. I’d had a few wines and when Gretchen reminded me that I had been intending to have an early night I happily called goodnight and we somewhat unsteadily walked ‘home’.

I went to sleep wondering about finishing my qualifications in New Zealand. It seemed possible but I still had the problem of earning a living. I had learned from my conversations that jobs are scarce and I suffered from the disadvantage of never having worked for wages – no experience and no references.

The following morning I rose rather late. Gretchen had told me that she had the day free and would spend it with me to help me orientate myself in my new world. There was no sign of her so I showered and got dressed for what looked like a cool day. I breakfasted and was tidying up my bed space when she arrived looking fresh and ready for a day out.

I have been down the road getting my old car. I can’t park it near here because it is all a time restricted zone. I park it about two or three kilometres away, outside the four avenues which defines the Central Business District. So, let’s see. What do you want to look at?

"Well, I would like to have a general look around. I would like to visit the university. Perhaps I might be able to continue my studies.