Page 54 of The Mismatch

After browsing M&S for forty minutes, her mum had a huge pile of clothes in her arms. They were mainly gifts she was stockpiling for her family. Soraya was never sure if it was a universal custom, or if it was just her family, but every time her parents went back to Iran they had to bring gifts for each family member. Every single one. So whenever there was a sale they jumped on it.

‘They’re going to be very happy,’ her mum said. ‘Everyone knows Marks and Spencer is good quality. And look, this top is only three pounds!’

Parvin found some underwear on sale, and Soraya refrained from purchasing anything. They didn’t exactly stock items in her style, and even if she did find something, she couldn’t indulge. She was using Jobseeker’s Allowance now to get by, and had spent her overdraft to pay the rent this month.

She was, however, looking forward to their customary afternoon tea in the cafe. Parvin and Soraya were aware that with its plastic chairs and harsh lighting the place was hardly classy, but afternoon tea as a threesome had become a tradition for them. There was also the fact their mum always insisted on paying for it.

Over two platters of mini vegetarian sandwiches, scones and cakes, her mum began her usual tirade.

‘Parvin, darling, you need to think about getting married soon,’ she said in between bites of a scone that had a bit too much cream on it for her high cholesterol.

Parvin was quiet for a moment. ‘It’s not that easy, you know, Mum.’

‘We’ve shown you many men and you’re not interested in any of them.’ Her mum’s voice had a worrisome edge to it, which often annoyed Soraya. It was as though being single at twenty-eight years old was quite literally the end of the world.

‘You showed me a takeaway worker I havenothingin common with. And then Raoul, that weird fifty-year-old.’

Soraya stifled a laugh.

‘It’s difficult. We don’t know many people here.’ Her mum’s back was slightly hunched as she reached for a cheese and onion sandwich. ‘In Iran two men proposed to me before your dad.’ Parvin rolled her eyes at Soraya. They’d heard the story so many times.

‘Well, how do you expect me to find someone if you don’t want me to date anyone? Men don’t just fall out of the sky and propose.’

‘Muslim men do.’ Her mum smiled and nudged Soraya with her elbow. Soraya wasn’t quite sure why she did this but smiled anyway.

‘Yes, but would a proper Muslim want me?’ Parvin said.

‘And why wouldn’t he?’

‘Well, there’s the obvious: I don’t wear a hijab. And I don’t want to wear one.’ Parvin didn’t look her mum in the eye. Instead she ate the icing from one of the cupcakes.

‘Some men have open minds. You’re a good girl.’

‘Yes, butwhereare they?’

Her mum paused, realising she didn’t actually know where they were. Or how to find them. It was different for her generation. It seemed she had not considered how her children would meet their future partners in England, without dating beforehand.

‘Have you tried looking online?’ she asked Parvin.

Soraya stifled a laugh, almost spitting out her tea.

‘Online dating?’ Parvin asked, no doubt imagining Tinder.

‘There must be some kind of Muslim dating site, or that one that is always advertised – e something …’

‘eHarmony?’ Soraya said.

‘Yes, that one!’

‘I’m OK, Mum, I think I’ll pass,’ Parvin said.

‘You’re not getting any younger, darling. You will regret not getting married soon. You want to have children, a family. You can’t do that anytime, you know.’

Seeing her sister being backed into a corner, Soraya couldn’t resist intervening. ‘Lots of people don’t get married until they’re at least in their thirties. Times are different now. You forget, England is not like Iran, that isn’t how people get married here.’

‘But what about having children? Biologically women become less fertile in their thirties,’ her mum said, turning to Soraya. ‘And I was going to ask you – you’re not talking toany boys, are you? You’re acting differently lately.’ Her eyes were fixed on Soraya’s.

She couldn’t even look away because that would make it seem like she was avoiding scrutiny,which she was. She knew she shouldn’t have piped up. Her mum had a sixth sense about these things; she always realised when her children were hiding something. Even if the thing they were hiding was now in the past.