by Bali Rai
‘Look at the grief me and your dad got – and we’re both Punjabi. If I had chosen to marry a black man, the reaction would have been ten times worse.’
‘That doesn’t make it right,’ I pointed out.
‘Of course it doesn’t, Simmy, but life doesn’t always work out fairly,’ she told me, as a piece of ginger found itself being chopped to bits by her demonic knife hand.
‘So if Ruby went out with a black lad – that would cause shit?’ I asked, icing my cake.
‘Ruby?’ My mum shook her head and smiled. ‘Her parents don’t want her seeing any boy. Can you imagine what they’d say?’
‘But if she did – would you and Dad hate her for it?’
My mum gave me a quizzing look. ‘Is there something you’re trying to tell me in amongst all these questions?’ she asked.
I felt my face going red. ‘No … nothing like that,’ I lied. ‘I’m just asking, that’s all – because of this girl at school.’
‘Not Ruby?’
‘No – someone else,’ I replied.
‘Oh, right,’ she said. ‘No – we wouldn’t hate her for it. But some members of her family might.’
I thought back to what Lisa had said about not caring what my extended family might think.
‘Yeah,’ I said, ‘but that extended family thing is all rubbish, isn’t it?’
My mum smiled. ‘Yes and no,’ she said, throwing the onions into a large pan. ‘Put it this way – it would cause some grief in our family – especially with your uncles.’
‘So what advice would you give this girl at my school then?’ I asked, realizing that I needed to stop asking questions before my mum became suspicious.
‘Proceed with caution,’ she said.
‘Shall I cut up the chicken for you?’ I asked her immediately, hoping to change the subject.
My mum eyed me with that look that mums have. Half suspicion, half bemusement. She nodded. ‘Yeah – and then maybe we can discuss another moral issue – seeing as this one is obviously finished.’
I grinned at her. ‘We could discuss the way that women find weight difficult to shift after their third child,’ I offered.
My mum held up the knife. She didn’t say anything. She just held it in front of me and made a couple of quick slashes through the air.
‘I’ll just get that chicken,’ I said, hurrying to the fridge.
SIMRAN
THE FOLLOWING DAY I was in Asda with my dad, doing the shopping, when I saw an Asian girl with a black guy and a baby. I looked at them as they walked past me in the cooked meats aisle, catching the girl’s eye. She gave me the once over, smiled and walked on. I looked for my dad, who was busy comparing the price of normal bacon to the speciality stuff.
‘Six slices for that much?’ he said. I don’t know who he was talking to because I was standing about three metres away from him. I walked over and looked at the packet of bacon rashers.
‘Get the cheap ones then,’ I told him.
‘Yeah – but they’re not honey-blossom smoked, are they?’ he said, expecting me to know what he was on about.
‘Did you see that couple?’ I asked him, ignoring the great bacon debate.
He shook his head and for a split second I thought he’d been listening to me.
‘The cheaper stuff is all thin and I bet it shrinks in the pan. This posh stuff is thick cut – the way bacon used to be when I was a lad. We used to get it from the butcher on St Saviour’s Road—’
‘Dad …’
He looked at me, then at the packet of bacon in his hand. ‘Best get the cheaper stuff – your mum’ll kill me otherwise,’ he told me.
‘I’ll kill you in a minute … Did you see that couple?’
He looked round but they had moved on down the next aisle.
‘What couple?’ he asked, putting the posh bacon back and grabbing the packs of normal stuff.
‘Oh, you’re useless sometimes. There was an Asian girl with a black guy,’ I explained.
‘So …?’ He moved on to the fridge that held the cooked meats.
‘So – that’s quite rare, isn’t it?’ I said.
He shrugged. ‘Probably – does Jay like ham or chicken?’ he replied.
‘Dad!’
‘What’s the big deal? They’re a couple – so what?’
I looked at him, realizing that I was being far too obvious. ‘I just wondered whether they get shit from people – other Asian people.’
‘Maybe they do,’ he replied, grabbing a load of chicken slices.
‘Get the honey-roasted ones,’ I told him, pointing to Jay’s favourites.
‘Huh?’
‘The honey-roasted – Jay doesn’t eat any of the others.’
He swapped the packets over and pushed the trolley up to me. ‘Why the interest?’ he asked me.
‘Just wondered – that’s all,’ I replied, deciding to push my investigation to the edge. ‘There’s this girl at school, and this black guy keeps asking her out but she won’t go out with him because of what her parents might think …’
‘Oh – right,’ my dad said.
‘What do you think about it?’ I pressed.
‘My best friend in the whole world is black so what do you think I’m gonna say?’ he asked me.
‘Oh, right. So you don’t think it’s a big thing?’
‘I didn’t say that,’ he told me, ushering me into the next aisle, where the couple in question were looking at the milk.
‘So you do think it’s a problem …’
‘For some people,’ he said, coming to a stop and looking right at me.
‘Like Uncle Rajbir … if, for example, Ruby went out with a black guy …?’ I asked, really pushing it.
‘He’d probably kill them both,’ said my dad, without a hint of humour. ‘Why – you’re not telling me that it’s Ruby, are you?’
I shook my head. ‘No! She doesn’t go out with boys – period.’
‘Because that would cause some serious trouble,’ he pointed out.
‘But doesn’t that bother you – the fact that your family is so racist?’
He shrugged. ‘Lots of things my brothers think bother me. I just don’t care.’
‘So you don’t mind seeing Asian and black couples then?’ I said, lowering my voice as the couple I was on about walked past.
‘Not at all. It’s none of my business,’ he said. ‘And look how cute that kid is – he’s got as much right to be alive as anyone else.’
I wanted to ask him how he’d feel if it was his business. If it was his daughter. But his reply told me all I needed to know, or so I thought. Things didn’t pan out that way though. Not exactly.
That evening I replied to a couple of Tyrone’s messages, cheeky, flirtatious replies that didn’t give too much away. Each time I sent a reply, he sent one back within a minute, and after the first two I decided to play a game with him and stop replying. But he just sent me loads more messages that made me giggle to myself. The silly boy. In the end I sent another text, telling him that I would call him soon, but only if he stopped clogging my inbox with his pleas. He sent me a two-word reply: CAN’T WAIT.
I did some homework, sent Paula and Ruby a load of messages on instant messenger and then got really bored. In the end, wanting to tell Lisa how my parents had replied to my sly and not-so-sly questions, I called and asked her what she was up to.
‘Not a lot,’ she told me. ‘Sitting here, trying to do this science project …’
‘You want some help?’ I asked, hoping she’d ask me to come round. She did.
‘But I don’t need your help. I’ll do the project myself.’
‘I’ll be there in a few,’ I said, ringing off.
I went into the bathroom and put my hair up on top of my head before going downstairs. My parents were in the living room, watching rubbish Sunday evening television.
‘I’m popping over to Lisa’s,’ I told them.
‘Have you done your homework?’ asked my d
ad.
‘Yeah – and more too.’
‘OK – don’t be late,’ ordered my mum.
‘I won’t and when I get back you’ll still be on the sofa like two stuffed piglets watching The Top Ten Reasons to Shave Your Eyebrows or something.’
I ducked as a cushion flew past my head, smiled and left the house. Lisa was waiting for me at her door and we went straight up to her room.
‘My dad’s talking to his boss,’ she told me.
‘I’ll be quiet as a mouse,’ I replied.
When we got to her bedroom I jumped on her bed and lay back, pushing a T-shirt and bra to the floor.
‘You should tidy up sometimes,’ I said, but she ignored me, as usual. She sat down at her desk, on a swivel chair, and turned to face me.
‘What’s up then?’ she asked.
‘Nothing,’ I lied. ‘Can’t I just come round to see you because I love you?’
‘You could but you never do,’ she pointed out. ‘There’s always a reason.’
I stuck out my bottom lip and pretended to sulk.
‘Oh stop it!’ she told me.
‘Spoke to my mum and dad,’ I said, smiling.
‘Well done – you should get a Family of the Year award or something. Have your own reality show—’
‘About Tyrone,’ I continued, ignoring her sarcasm.
Her eyes widened. ‘About Tyrone?’ she repeated.
‘That’s what I said, sister.’
‘But I thought you were too scared to—’ she began.
‘I didn’t exactly talk to them about Tyrone,’ I admitted. ‘It was more of a … a general enquiry about stuff.’
‘Uh-huh – exactly how general?’ Lisa asked.
‘General to the point of being … er … sly?’
She shook her head. ‘So what exactly did you ask them and about who?’
I looked over, shrugged and told her.
DAVID
MY COUSIN SATNAM swerved his Audi around a car that was trying to pull out into the road. He swore at the driver, making comments about him being Muslim. Two other cousins were in the back – Inderjit and Jagtar, Uncle Malkit’s lads. They laughed at him.
‘Muzzy twat!’ added Satnam, trying to prolong the laughs.
I shook my head and carried on watching the streets fly past. Satnam was giving me a lift home from a football team meeting, which, as usual, had been held in a pub on Melton Road. Not that anyone had been talking about football or the team. It was just an excuse to get pissed. My head was banging from the three pints I’d drunk and all I wanted to do was get home, away from my cousins and their stupid jokes.
‘I gotta chat to you about summat,’ Satnam said.
I shrugged. ‘So chat …’
‘Someone – and I ain’t sayin’ who – told me about that shit that happened at your school,’ he told me.
‘So?’
‘So I heard it was a gang fight between some of our lot and a load of … er … blacks—’
‘You mean coons?’ shouted Inderjit from the back.
‘Blacks,’ repeated Satnam.
‘What’s that gotta do with me?’ I asked, wondering where he was going with his chat.
‘Your mate – that Dean—’
‘What about him?’ I snapped.
‘Well, I’ve heard, from the horse’s mouth, so to speak, that things are gonna get worse. Some good lads getting done for that – and their families ain’t havin’ it, you get me?’
I looked at him and shrugged. ‘Me an’ Dean wasn’t involved – so it ain’t none of our business, is it?’
‘Could be,’ said Satnam. ‘If it gets into “them and us” …’
I shook my head. I should have known what he was going to say. ‘It ain’t about “them and us”,’ I told him. ‘Or it is, but not the way that you think …’
Satnam looked at me. ‘I don’t get you,’ he replied.
‘It’s them – all them man fighting an’ that – and us – me and Dean … we’s separate from that. And we ain’t getting involved.’
Satnam shook his head. ‘You’re young, David – I know the boy is your mate an’ that but when you get older – it’s not the same … them kaleh, they ain’t like us …’
‘I’m not interested,’ I told him.
‘You will be when the shit goes down. When yer kalah mate is looking after his own. You’ll be there like some likkle lap dog, watching an’ that. Is that what you want? Where’s your pride, man? You is Desi – homemade, bad bwoi stock …’
‘He’s my best mate from when we was yout’s – you unnerstan’?’
‘The bwoi even chats like him black,’ shouted Inderjit from behind me.
‘An’ what accent was that you were putting on, you knob?’ I said, turning to glare at him.
‘Don’t look at me like that – I’ll give you a slap,’ he threatened.
‘Come on then!’ I shouted back.
‘Enough!’ said Jagtar, who was my eldest cousin.
‘Fuckin’ knob,’ I spat.
‘Just calm down,’ Satnam said. ‘We’re just trying to look out for you – that’s all.’
‘Well, you can do that by lettin’ me out yer car – I’ll walk the rest of the way.’
‘Nah – we’re only round the corner now,’ replied Satnam.
‘I don’t give a f—’
‘Just let him out,’ said Jagtar. ‘He’ll soon realize himself.’
Satnam pulled in to the kerb and stopped.
‘Don’t count on it,’ I told Jagtar. ‘The one thing I ain’t ever gonna be is like you …’
‘You better stick to what you know, like everyone else,’ he replied. ‘You might get caught out otherwise and then it’s us you gonna run to.’
He said a few more things too but I didn’t catch them. Instead I gave the door an extra hard slam and walked off up the road, glad to be away from my family.
SIMRAN
MY COUSIN RUBY pushed her way past a group of annoying Year Sevens and into our English class.
‘Bloody kids!’ she said, slamming her bag onto the desk and sitting down. Her long dark hair was tied in a bun and her school uniform looked like a sack over her skinny body. If you didn’t know her you’d think she had an eating disorder but she didn’t. She was naturally built like a twig. Between her and Lisa, I was freak girl.
Ruby hadn’t been to school for a few days because she’d had flu and I asked her if she was feeling better.
‘Kind of,’ she replied. ‘I feel a bit light headed and my throat is still really sore …’
‘Shouldn’t go round kissing frogs, should you?’ I teased.
‘Chance would be a fine thing,’ she moaned.
‘Aaah! Does Ruby want a boyfriend?’
She looked at me like I was mad. ‘That was such a stupid voice,’ she told me.
‘Yeah – it was kind of silly, wasn’t it?’
She nodded.
‘There’s something I want to talk to you about,’ I said.
She began to pull books out of her bag as the rest of the class started to appear, including Lisa and Priti.
‘What?’ she asked absentmindedly.
I thought about telling her quickly but didn’t get a chance. Lisa and Priti pulled up chairs and sat down.
‘Hello!’ they beamed at Ruby and me.
‘Hey,’ I replied.
‘Everything OK?’ asked Lisa. ‘Only you weren’t at the bus stop this morning.’
‘Ruby’s dad gave us a lift – sorry.’
‘No prob – I didn’t get the bus either. Dad dropped me off,’ she said.
‘So how did you know she wasn’t at the bus stop?’ asked Priti.
‘Because I made my dad drive past to see if she was,’ replied Lisa. ‘I bet Ruby’s dad didn’t drive by to see if I wanted a lift – did he?’
I looked from Ruby to Lisa and then felt myself going red.
‘It’s all right, Simmy,’ she said with a smile.
&nb
sp; ‘Sorry, Lisa,’ added Ruby.
‘Families sticking together and all that,’ replied Lisa.
For a moment I thought she was really pissed off but then she grinned and I knew that she was teasing us.
‘Cow!’
‘No need to get nasty, Simmy – I was only joking.’
‘Moo …’ I added.
Lisa stuck her tongue out at me as Mr Babbage walked in.
‘What did you wanna tell me?’ whispered Ruby.
‘Later,’ I whispered back, as Mr Babbage cleared his throat.
At lunch time I was sitting with Lisa when a fight broke out in the cafeteria. We were talking about Tyrone again, with me telling her that I wanted to speak to Ruby and Paula. Lisa was asking me why I felt the need to speak to the entire world about it when we heard a shout go up. I turned to see a lad called Pally, who was in my brother’s year, dive onto another seated Asian lad. The table moved and then collapsed as they tried to punch each other. Suddenly a group of four male teachers ran over and began to separate them. But they were still kicking and punching, even when they had been pulled apart, and Pally was swearing in Punjabi – nasty, sexual things about the other lad’s mum and sisters. He followed it up with a load of stuff about Muslims. The Muslim lad, who I recognized from our year, was going mad trying to get free, but two teachers held him tight and in the end he calmed down.
The other two teachers dragged Pally out of the cafeteria and down the main corridor, as the rest of the pupils sitting close by began to clear up the mess. I turned to Lisa and shook my head.
‘Idiots,’ I said.
‘What was all that Punjabi stuff about?’ she asked me.
‘Usual stuff. Your mother’s this and your sister’s that … he’s gonna get battered,’ I replied.
‘And what was that word he kept saying at the end? It sounded like soolah or something …’
‘Soollah – it’s a derogatory word, made up, I think, for Muslims,’ I told her, slightly embarrassed and unsure of the reason why.
‘So that was all about tribal shit again?’ asked Lisa.
‘Looks like it,’ I said.
‘Things are getting silly in this school,’ she told me. ‘Where’s it gonna end – is it gonna be big-eared people versus small-eared next?’
