Shh! Abbu Is Sleeping

Saturday morning in Luton was grey and drizzly, and Usman had a plan. A big, loud plan. He and his little sister Rida were going to build a cushion fort and be roaring lions all morning.

Then the front door clicked open.

It was Abbu, home from the hospital. He was a nurse working nights this week, looking after poorly people while Luton slept.

His eyes were pink and droopy, and his hospital badge still hung round his neck.

"Assalamu alaikum, Usman," he said, ruffling Usman's hair.

"Wa alaikum assalam, Abbu!" said Usman. Then Abbu gave a yawn so enormous that Rida giggled.

"Abbu needs to sleep now," said Ammi softly. "He's been awake all night."

Usman watched Abbu climb the stairs, slowly, holding on to the banister.

"Ammi," he whispered, "lions can be quiet lions, can't they?"

Ammi smiled.

So Usman made a new plan. With his best felt tips, he drew a sign: "Shh! Abbu is sleeping!" He taped it gently to the bedroom door.

Next, Rida. Rida was three, and Rida did not do quiet. When she began banging her spoon, Usman knelt beside her. "Let's play the mouse game," he whispered. "Mice tiptoe. Mice whisper. Mice never, ever squeak."

Rida tiptoed round the kitchen, whispering "squeak" very softly, which didn't really count.

Once, Usman forgot, and a lion roar nearly burst out. He clapped a hand over his mouth just in time and turned it into the tiniest roar in the world.

All morning, the house stayed hushed. Usman crept about in his socks. He even laid the biscuit-tin lid on a folded tea towel so it couldn't clatter. Then he wrote Abbu a note.

In the afternoon, a floorboard creaked upstairs. Abbu was awake!

"Quick, Ammi, the tea!" whispered Usman.

Ammi boiled the kettle and poured hot water into Abbu's favourite mug. Usman did the rest, with Ammi right beside him. He jiggled the teabag, added milk and one sugar, and stirred until the tea was the colour of toffee. Then he propped his note against the mug.

Abbu made wudu and prayed, then shuffled in, rubbing his eyes. He saw the tea, picked up the note and read it out loud.

"Dear Abbu, thank you for looking after poorly people all night. We were quiet mice for you. Love from Usman. And Rida, but she squeaked a tiny bit."

Abbu read it again, to himself this time. Then he cleared his throat. "Did you do all this?"

"Rida helped," said Usman. "Mostly by squeaking."

Abbu laughed and pulled them both into a big, sleepy hug.

He sat down with his tea. "Do you know," he said, "a Companion called Abdullah ibn Mas'ud once asked the Prophet ﷺ which deed Allah loves most. The Prophet ﷺ said, 'Praying on time.' Abdullah asked what came next, and the Prophet ﷺ said, 'Being good to your parents.'"

He took a long, happy sip. "I prayed Fajr on time at the hospital this morning. And you, my son, spent the whole morning doing the next one."

Usman felt warm right down to his toes.

That evening it was Abbu's turn to go to work, and Usman's turn to sleep. Abbu tucked him in, his hospital badge round his neck again.

"Look after the house for me," Abbu whispered. "Quietly."

"Like a mouse," Usman whispered back.

The front door clicked softly shut. Usman snuggled under his duvet and listened to the rain.

"Ya Allah, please look after Abbu tonight," he whispered. And then, as quiet as a little mouse, he fell asleep.