Rani and Sukh

by Bali Rai

  ‘Nat . . .’

  ‘It’s a little disguise,’ she told him.

  ‘But you look just like you, maybe a little older . . .’ Sukh pointed out.

  ‘Yeah, perhaps. But the last time I saw Rani’s dad he was too busy looking at my legs to notice my face.’

  ‘But he’ll never go for you as—’

  ‘I wonder, Mr Sandhu, could I have a moment . . . ?’ answered Natalie in a very refined accent that was deeper than her real voice.

  ‘Bloody hell!’ said Sukh, genuinely surprised. ‘You sound like a politician . . .’

  ‘See?’ smiled Natalie, returning to her own accent. ‘Most people will fall for an official-sounding voice, a clipboard and—’

  ‘And what?’ asked Sukh, clenching and unclenching his toes to get the blood flowing.

  ‘– a phone call,’ finished Natalie, taking her mobile out of her bag.

  Sukh watched in silence as she dialled a number, told him to shush, and waited for an answer.

  ‘Ah, good morning. Is that Mr Sandhu – Mr Mohinder Sandhu?’

  He heard a faint answer.

  ‘My name is PC Condew. I’m with the community policing unit . . .’

  Sukh was about to say something but stopped short when he heard Natalie repeating herself.

  ‘Yes, that’s right . . . Police . . . I’m doing house calls this morning, looking at security in the home . . . Yes, that’s right. I have to visit every house on the street and this morning it’s your turn . . .’

  Sukh heard Rani’s dad’s voice, but again only faintly.

  ‘On the contrary, Mr Sandhu, your English is more than adequate . . . Yes, this morning. I’m afraid it’s compulsory . . . You have to receive my visit . . . Yes . . . Yes, well actually I’m round the corner with my fellow officer PC Nutless . . . No, no, no . . . just me. He is visiting another house . . . It won’t take ten minutes of your time . . . Yes . . . Oh, in about five minutes? Excellent . . . See you then. Good morning . . .’

  Natalie snapped the phone shut.

  ‘You’re off your bloody head!’

  ‘Leave it out, Sukh . . . Just listen to me. I’m going in now. Wait here until I give you a call – I’ll leave the front door open for you . . . If I call it means that I’ve got them out in the garden and the coast is clear. Then you grab Rani and get her into the car—’

  ‘Are you absolutely—?’

  ‘Just shut up and listen, will you? You’re such a drip sometimes . . . All you do is wait for my call. You go in, up the stairs and round to the left. There’s two doors at the end of the corridor. The last one is Rani’s bedroom. Round to the left—’

  ‘Right . . .’

  ‘No, you spoon – left . . .’

  ‘Right, that’s what I said . . . left,’ replied Sukh.

  Natalie groaned. ‘Jesus, what is this – a sitcom? Just go left, OK?’

  ‘And if the coast isn’t clear or you get caught out . . . ?’

  ‘Then we’ll call the real police.’

  ‘But why can’t we just call them now?’

  Natalie gave Sukh a filthy stare. ‘Whose girlfriend is being kept prisoner . . . ?’ she reminded him.

  Sukh thought about Rani and Divy and everything else. He forgot his concerns about Nat’s plan and nodded his head slowly. ‘OK he said. ‘I’m cool . . .’

  ‘We’ll see about that soon enough,’ said Natalie.

  She grabbed the clipboard and handbag and got out of the car, straightening her business suit out and heading for the driveway. Sukh watched as she approached the door and knocked on it, pulling out a card of some sort when a man opened the door. Rani’s dad. She asked him some questions and then walked with him to the side of the house, where a gate opened out to the back of the house. Sukh watched as Rani’s dad forgot to close the front door, his attention firmly focused on Natalie, who was pointing at something, playing her role. She might be nuts, Sukh thought to himself, but she was brave with it. And then he lost sight of her.

  DIVY

  DIVY SANDHU SAT in the office of the family’s hosiery unit and fumed. He had to think of a way to get his sister to tell him the name of the boy he had seen her kissing. Even the thought of it made him angry. The insult to his name. The damage to his family’s respect. He turned the situation over and over in his mind . . . There had to be a way of getting her to tell. There had to be. As he sat and thought, Gurdip walked in and set a mug of coffee down on the table for him.

  ‘How we gonna get her to tell us who the bastard is?’ Divy asked his brother.

  Gurdip thought about it for a moment and then shrugged. ‘Dunno, bro. I reckon she’ll tell us soon enough.’

  ‘She ain’t told us so far . . .’

  ‘Yeah, well, she’s still playing the big woman, innit. See how quick she is to deny it all after a week of being locked in . . .’

  ‘Yeah, but will she tell us?’

  Gurdip shrugged again. ‘We could slap it out of her,’ he offered.

  ‘What good is that gonna do? Besides, she didn’t say nothing yesterday when I slapped her . . .’

  ‘Maybe Mum can get her to talk?’

  Divy considered the idea of letting their mum sweet talk her but then discounted it. He wasn’t about to let his mum feel even more shame than she already did.

  ‘Hey,’ laughed Gurdip, ‘you taken to carryin’ handbags, bro?’

  Divy wondered what he was on about. For a second maybe. The handbag . . .

  He grabbed it from the desk and rummaged around in it.

  ‘What you doin’?’ asked Gurdip, wondering whether the pressure was getting to his brother.

  ‘I brought it with me because,’ he replied, as he looked through it, ‘she might try to use this . . .’ He pulled out her mobile phone and smiled.

  ‘What about it?’ asked Gurdip.

  Divy sighed at his brother’s stupidity. ‘If she’s been messin’ about with some lad,’ he said patiently, ‘then she’s been callin’ him, innit? Which means the number has to be on this . . .’

  He looked at the screen. The battery level was low and there was a red warning light flashing. No problem though. The phone was the same make as his own. He pointed to his charger, sitting on top of a low filing cabinet. ‘Pass me that thing there,’ he said.

  Gurdip picked up the charger and handed it to Divy. Divy took it and plugged one end into the wall socket behind his desk and the other into the phone. It lit up and the battery meter showed that it was charging. He found the phone book and scrolled through it. After a few minutes he showed the screen to Gurdip. ‘Two numbers,’ he said. ‘I looked in the DIALLED NUMBERS menu and she’s been calling these two numbers the most. One says “SKH-M” and the other one’s “SKH-H” . . .’

  ‘Mobile and home, innit,’ smiled Gurdip. ‘But what does SKH mean?’

  ‘It’s his name,’ replied Divy, his stomach turning slightly as a thought entered his brain. He stared at the screen. ‘It’s Sukh,’ he told his brother. ‘Has to be.’

  ‘Sukh? Sukh who?’

  Divy felt a tingling around his hairline. His pulse speeded up. If that’s who I think it is . . . His rage struggled to contain itself inside him. He scrolled to ‘SKH-H’ and pressed the green DIAL button.

  Someone answered on the fourth ring.

  ‘Yeah – this phone I’m using was lost at football,’ began Divy. ‘It looks like it belongs to Sukh but I don’t know which Sukh, innit . . . Yeah, at the football match . . . Sukh Bains . . . Cool – I know him . . . Yeah, I’m a mate . . . Oh yeah, I’ll make sure he gets it . . . Later . . .’

  He rang off and looked at Gurdip, whose eyes were about to pop out of his head.

  ‘That number whose I think it is?’ said Gurdip.

  ‘Yeah,’ replied Divy with an edge of steel to his voice and fury in his eyes.

  He lit a cigarette and stood up, picking up his car keys. ‘Come on – I need to pick up a couple of the lads and then you and me are going to talk to our s
lag of a sister,’ he said.

  ‘And then what . . . ?’ asked Gurdip.

  ‘Then we’re gonna go see Mr Bains, man . . .’

  The intent in Divy’s voice was unmistakable. He looked at his brother, his eyes on fire.

  Gurdip felt a rush of fear. Something bad was about to happen.

  SUKH

  SUKH’S PHONE RANG about ten minutes after he had watched Natalie disappear into the Sandhus’ garden. He answered it on the second ring, his nerves jangling.

  ‘Yeah . . . ?’

  ‘The spider has caught the flies . . .’

  ‘Huh?’ ‘The spider— Oh, for God’s sake . . .’

  ‘Oh, right.’

  He rang off and got out of the car, looking around to see if anyone was watching. Happy that he was not in any danger he ran towards the front door. He waited for a second or two before going in and then headed straight up the stairs, taking them two at a time. At the top they led round to the left and the right. Sukh went left and down the corridor. The first of the doors he came to he ignored. The next one had a lock on it, a bolt. It had to be the right one.

  He threw the bolt and opened the door with a knock. When no one answered he pushed the door further open. Rani was lying asleep on her bed, her face swollen down one side and one of her eyes closed over. Sukh felt his fists clench involuntarily and he saw red. He wished that Rani’s brothers and her dad were there – so that he could batter them for hurting her. Breathing sharply to catch himself and calm down, he walked over to Rani and shook her awake, covering her mouth as she woke.

  Rani wriggled underneath him as he smiled and then removed his hand.

  ‘SUKH!’

  ‘Come on – let’s go!’ he whispered excitedly.

  ‘What . . . ?’

  He pulled Rani from her bed and handed her the only clothes that he could see, a pair of jeans and sweatshirt. ‘Quick!’

  ‘What are you doing?’

  He gave her a kiss. ‘Rescuing you. No time to explain . . . we have to go. Now!’

  Rani hurriedly threw on some clothes and then grabbed a bag that sat by her bed. She ran to her bathroom and gathered some stuff. Then she opened her cupboards and stuffed in some more clothes and underwear. She turned to Sukh and grinned as widely as she could manage.

  Sukh felt the anger rising in himself as he looked at her. ‘What happened to your face?’ he asked.

  Rani shrugged and said she’d tell him later. She seemed to be in a daze.

  ‘Come on . . .’

  Sukh led Rani out of her bedroom and made sure that he locked the door behind them. They ran downstairs and out of the front door. Sukh had reached the car before he turned round to find Rani standing at the edge of the drive, staring up at the house. He ran back to her. ‘Rani – we have to leave . . . Come on!’

  He grabbed her hand and ignored her tears, pulling her to the car. They got in just as Natalie emerged from the Sandhus’ house with Rani’s father in tow. Sukh watched as she wrote something on a bit of paper and handed it to Mohinder Sandhu. Then she turned and walked briskly towards the car. Sukh opened the door as she approached.

  Nat stared at Rani, crying in the back seat. ‘Oh my God! What the hell did they do?’

  ‘Later, Nat!’ shouted Sukh, his adrenaline pumping. ‘We have to get going . . .’

  Nat briefly touched Rani’s hand and then she turned and started her mum’s car, pulling away at speed.

  DIVY

  DIVY LURCHED HIS car into fifth gear as he sped along St Saviour’s Road, narrowly avoiding an oncoming bus.

  ‘SLOW DOWN!’ shouted Gurdip.

  ‘Relax . . .’ said Divy, his mind racing. He wanted to get home fast and confront his sister.

  In the back seat Johnny Sangha, a barrel-chested doorman, held onto the leather seats for his life.

  At the top of St Saviour’s Divy turned right onto the ring road, flying up the hill past the entrance to the General Hospital and down past Crown Hills School. He jumped the lights at the bottom and sped up Wakerley, headed back to Oadby. He only slowed down once he had reached Gartree Road, spotting a police speed trap at the roundabout. He eased down and proceeded at a snail’s pace until the police were out of sight. At the junction that led back into Oadby he turned right, put his foot down and bounced across two mini roundabouts, reaching the lights of Stoughton Road and the A6 in record time. He took a left and headed for his dad’s house.

  ‘You’re crazy, bro . . .’ said Johnny, pretending that he was unfazed by the breakneck speed at which Divy had been driving.

  ‘Shut up and listen,’ spat Divy. ‘We pick up the old man and then we’re going to get that Bains dog . . .’

  ‘Cool,’ replied Johnny. ‘No need to get funny wit’ me, man.’

  ‘I’m payin’ you a grand for this, you get me?’ snapped back Divy. ‘I’ll get funny wit’ anyone I like.’

  Johnny shut up and checked his pocket, where a brass knuckleduster nestled, waiting for an outing.

  Divy turned into his dad’s road and came to a stop on the driveway of the house. He switched off the engine and jumped out of the car, almost running to the door and opening it. Gurdip came after him, telling Johnny to sit and wait. Gurdip caught up with his brother in the living room, as Divy explained what he had found out about Rani’s mystery boyfriend. At the mention of the name Bains, Mohinder Sandhu turned pale.

  ‘Well?’ asked Divy in Punjabi. ‘We going to talk to her . . . ?’

  Mohinder Sandhu mumbled something about fate and God.

  Divy looked at him with disgust. ‘Kismet? Forget that, Dad. This is about pride. Our pride.’

  ‘Nah, Divinder,’ said his dad. ‘This is too far . . . leave her alone. I will speak to this boy’s father myself.’

  Divy’s mother, who had remained silent, spoke up. ‘What are you saying?’ she asked her husband.

  ‘Keep out of it!’ he snapped in reply.

  ‘What is this?’ she continued. ‘Are we to be the victims of that family again . . . ?’

  ‘I said to leave it—’ shouted Divy’s dad.

  ‘Will no one avenge our child?’ spat Divy’s mother, ignoring her husband.

  ‘Mum’s right,’ agreed Divy. ‘This is the last straw . . .’

  He turned and walked out of the room and up the stairs. Reaching Rani’s room, he slid the bolt back and opened the door. The room was a mess and there was no sign of his sister. His rage flipped into overdrive as he returned, swearing, to the living room.

  ‘Where is she?’ he demanded.

  His parents looked at him as though he had gone mad.

  ‘Where’s who?’ asked his mum.

  ‘Rani . . .’

  ‘She is upstairs, my son – in her bedroom.’

  A creeping realization dawned across his mother’s face. She put her hands to her head and cried out. ‘The police!’

  Divy shot his dad a look. ‘What’s she talking about?’ he asked. ‘What police?’

  Mohinder Sandhu stood up and pulled a card from his back pocket, handing it to Divy. ‘They came this morning,’ he said, a man in shock, with resignation written across his features and tears in his eyes.

  ‘PC Condew and PC Nutless – is this some kind of joke?’ Divy replied, throwing the card to the floor.

  ‘You what?’ asked Gurdip, wondering what the hell was going on.

  ‘It wasn’t the police,’ said Divy, ready to explode but fighting it as much as he could.

  ‘Hai Rabbah!’ cried his mother, calling out to God.

  ‘PC Condew conned us!’ added Divy. He looked at his dad with no emotion except pity. ‘Is it up to me to keep this family’s name from the mud?’ he asked him.

  Mohinder Sandhu said nothing.

  ‘Are you coming or not?’ asked his son.

  ‘Yes . . .’ whispered Mohinder, his mind full of a dark day, years earlier.

  ‘Good.’

  ‘But not to fight, Divinder. It is my place as your father to sort out
this mess—’

  ‘Do what you like, old man!’ spat Divy. ‘But that Bains boy is mine . . .’

  He turned and headed out of the door, not caring whether anyone followed him or not.

  RANI

  WE DROVE THE short distance to Sukh’s house and Natalie dropped us off, promising that she would return later in the day, once she had returned the car and got changed into normal clothes. I gave her a big hug and kissed her about ten times, thanking her over and over. I felt so relieved. She left after making me promise to call the police and tell them about the way Divy had assaulted me. I told her that I would and kissed her again.

  ‘Easy, babe,’ she smiled. ‘Sukh might get his panties in a twist if you carry on like this.’

  ‘I love you,’ I told her, kissing her again.

  ‘Enough—’

  ‘I do . . .’

  Nat grinned at Sukh. ‘You lucky boy,’ she said, giving him a hug and a kiss.

  ‘Thanks, Nat,’ he replied, giving her a squeeze.

  ‘Oh stop it, you two – you’ll have me in tears.’

  She got into her mum’s car and drove off like a lunatic.

  Inside, I let Parvy apply some more cream to my bruises. She asked me what I wanted to do and I told her that for the moment I was happy to let things go. But Parvy insisted that I at least let her take a photo of my injuries, just in case I wanted to tell the police later. I waited as she took out her digital camera and then snapped my face from about three different angles.

  ‘I’ll download these later,’ she told me, giving me a hug.

  Sukh’s mum and his brother Ravinder were in the kitchen when Parvy brought me downstairs. I said hello to them both, politely in Punjabi, and then followed Parvy into the living room where Sukh was waiting. I felt a little embarrassed but at the same time I felt like I was safe too. The argument with my family had really scared me. And the way my dad had let Divy hit me, and done nothing about it. It was as though something had snapped between us. At that point I still didn’t really understand it – the feeling was too fresh and too surreal. It would take a while until I felt normal again. A long while.