by Bali Rai
‘Did you just forget?’ I asked, as a couple of old women came and sat at the table next to ours. One of them gave Tyrone a funny look before turning away when she saw that I’d clocked her.
‘Nah – we was knocked out in the last round but the team that beat us got kicked out for cheating,’ he told me.
‘Don’t matter – I’ve got a load of work to do anyway,’ I said, pretending that I wasn’t bothered even though I was.
‘So have I,’ he replied. ‘Got that coursework to do.’
‘So we’ll do something another day – what you doing next Saturday night?’
He gave me a surprised look. ‘What? I gotta wait that long to see you?’ he asked.
‘Don’t be silly – we can see each other in the week. You’re always waiting for me outside school anyway.’
‘No I’m not,’ he protested.
‘Yeah – right. Every time I walk down to the shops you’re there. Like a stray puppy,’ I teased.
‘There I was thinking you liked me and you go an’ call me a dog,’ he said, grinning.
‘Call it like it is …’ I said.
He shook his head. ‘I reckon you enjoy dissin’ me – like you’re some kind of freak girl …’
I raised an eyebrow, wondering what he was on about. ‘Hey?’
‘Yeah … like you get a kick out of being nasty. I bet you got a dungeon at home – complete with chains and whips like one of them freaky people.’
This time I shook my head. ‘And you say I’m weird?’
‘I could just call you after the game,’ he said, changing the subject completely.
‘You could.’
‘OK – we’ll do that and if we’ve got time we can go out.’
‘See? You just can’t get enough of me,’ I joked.
Tyrone looked straight into my eyes and I felt my pulse quicken. He half stood, leaned across the table and gave me a long kiss. When I eventually opened my eyes, the two old women were giving us disgusted looks. Then I saw a middle-aged Asian couple at the next table along. You know that phrase – if looks could kill? Well, I was dead. The guy’s eyes were nearly popping out of his head. Tyrone noticed too and he shook his head.
‘Summat wrong, mate?’ he asked the man, who looked away and then back at me.
‘I asked if you got a problem,’ Tyrone said, getting angry.
I stood up and grabbed my bag. ‘Just leave it, babes – let’s go,’ I told him, trying to calm him down.
‘In a minute … I wanna know what he’s staring at first,’ replied Tyrone.
‘Forget it – he’s just an idiot,’ I said, taking hold of Tyrone’s arm. ‘Come on.’
Tyrone gave the man one last glare and then he followed me out. Behind us I heard the man call me a ‘khungeree’, which is Punjabi for ‘whore’, and for a moment I wanted to go back in and slap him. But then I realized that Tyrone would go mad and I didn’t want him to. I wanted to enjoy my time with him, not have it descend into violence over some stupid, ignorant arsehole.
‘What did he say?’ asked Tyrone as we walked back towards the city centre.
‘Nothing,’ I lied. ‘He was talking to his wife …’
‘Better not have said nuttin’ either.’
‘Just forget about it,’ I said.
We were going to have to talk about people’s reactions to our relationship at some point, I realized that. But it was too new and too fresh to get into all that heavy stuff. I just wanted us to have some fun. The problem was that other people were going to stop that from happening and there was nothing either of us could do about it.
I got home just after seven in the evening and went straight into the kitchen, where my dad was making chicken curry. My little brother Jay was in there too, trying to murder aliens on his Play Station.
‘Smelly bum’s back!’ he shouted when he saw me.
‘You cheeky little bas—’ I began, only for my dad to cut in.
‘Simran …!’
‘Sorry, Dad,’ I said without meaning it.
I looked at Jay and gave him an evil glare but he just smiled at me, tried and failed miserably to wink and then killed another alien.
‘Chicken curry …’ said my dad, in a mock Indian accent.
‘You look like a chicken in them shorts,’ I told him. ‘Where’d you get them – some skateboarder shop?’
He looked down at his three-quarter-length trousers and then at me. ‘Your mum got me these,’ he said, sounding hurt. ‘Height of fashion, she said.’
‘Height of shite, more like—’
‘Sim … not in front of the kid,’ replied my dad.
‘What kid?’ asked Jay aggressively.
‘You,’ I told him.
‘I’m not a kid … I’m old,’ he protested.
‘Not as old as Skateboard Dad over there,’ I said, winking at him.
He grinned and tried hard to wink back but his facial muscles let him down again, and he looked instead like he was trying not to poo his pants.
‘So what you been doing today?’ my dad asked me, as he stirred his pot.
‘Not a lot … saved the planet, stopped the extinction of the Bengal tiger and flew to Paris for lunch – what about you?’
‘Housework,’ he told me, pointing a chilli at me. ‘What you should have done this morning …’
‘Oh, Dad – I had to go into town,’ I said. ‘Girl’s gotta have a life.’
‘Not when I have to clean the bloody toilet,’ he said, throwing the chilli back onto the worktop with the rest of the mess he’d made.
‘Ew! You clean toilets!’ giggled Jay. ‘Homer’s a toilet cleaner …’
‘And I thought you said you were old?’ I said to my little brother. ‘You sound about five.’
‘Don’t’!
‘Do.’
‘At least I’m not ugly,’ replied Jay as yet another alien went to its grave.
‘How can you play that and look at me at the same time?’ I asked.
‘Same way you can pretend to be a good daughter and never clean the house,’ said my dad.
‘Oh, I’ll do some tomorrow, you silly old man!’
My dad shook his head. ‘No – you’ll do some now – starting in here.’
‘But Dad – the whole place smells of curry. My hair’ll end up stinking,’ I moaned.
‘Like your bum,’ giggled Jay.
‘Shut up, you stupid little git.’
My dad gave me another look and then asked me if had seen anyone interesting in town. For a moment I thought he knew about Tyrone and my heart sank but then I realized that he had spoken to his brother or his sister-in-law.
‘Did Ruby’s parents ring then?’
‘Yeah … something about her staying here next Saturday because you’re having a party – I told them they must have been smoking dope—’
‘Dad!’
‘Only kidding. I figured she was using you as an excuse to get out of the house for a change so I told them it was my idea.’
‘You didn’t …’ I said, disbelieving.
‘I did.’ He smiled.
I walked over and gave him a hug and a kiss.
‘What’s that for?’ he asked, although I could tell that he liked it.
‘For being the bestest daddy-waddy in the whole wide world,’ I said, in the stupidest baby voice I could manage.
‘Wass a dope?’ asked Jay without looking up from the screen.
‘You are,’ replied my dad.
I went and sat at the table and poked Jay in the belly as he played. He pretended not to like it but then started to giggle as he wriggled about in his chair. I looked up at my dad and smiled again.
‘I’m gonna have to call Ruby though,’ I told him. ‘She should have asked me first.’
‘You don’t have to,’ he replied. ‘Your uncle and aunt are bringing her over in about ten minutes.’
‘What?’
‘Yeah – your uncle says he’s got an offer for me that I can’t ref
use.’
‘I bet …’ I said, with serious sarcasm.
‘May as well hear what he’s got to say,’ he replied.
‘Great,’ I mumbled.
I didn’t really want to see Ruby face to face because I was still upset with her for the things she’d said about black people, but I didn’t have a choice. And besides, I had my own idea about what I was going to get up to the following Saturday night and she wasn’t invited. Well, she was – but only as cover for me.
SIMRAN
MY MUM CAME home about a minute before Ruby and her parents arrived. I told her they were coming as soon as she walked through the kitchen door and her face fell.
‘Why didn’t you phone me?’ she asked my dad.
‘Thought it would be a nice surprise,’ he replied, taking the piss.
‘But the house is a mess,’ complained my mum, looking flustered. ‘And you know what she’s like – bloody woman has her nose in every cupboard.’ My mum always referred to my aunt as ‘she’ or ‘her’.
‘Well, I was telling your daughter that she should have done her chores,’ said my dad, like it was my entire fault.
‘How come she’s always my daughter when she doesn’t behave?’ asked my mum.
My dad shrugged and smiled. ‘Don’t worry about it – I mean how bad can it possibly be?’
‘You know what they’re like,’ my mum snapped. ‘I haven’t even got anything to give them with their tea … apart from biscuits.’
‘So?’ I asked.
‘They’ll complain like they did last time. Went and told your other aunt that I couldn’t be bothered to feed them properly when they came over.’
‘But who cares?’ I said.
‘Yeah – what are we supposed to do – run out and get them samosas just because they say they’re coming round?’ added my dad.
‘Well, they’re your family so if they complain they can take a running—’ began my mum, only for the doorbell to interrupt her.
‘Oh bloody hell – they’re here already!’ she said, glaring at my dad, who was still wearing her apron and cooking his curry.
‘What?’ he asked.
‘Get the door!’ she snapped.
‘I’ll get it,’ I told them.
‘In the living room,’ said my mum. ‘This place looks like a bombsite …’
I shook my head at my useless parents and went to let Ruby and her parents in. Ruby smiled at me nervously and said hello as I opened the door; her mum gave me a filthy look.
‘Back from town?’ she asked, raising her badly plucked eyebrows.
‘No – I’m a clone,’ I replied.
‘Hello, Simran,’ said my uncle in Punjabi. He was still in his shell suit but had lost the cap. It wasn’t an improvement.
‘Hi!’ I answered breezily in English. ‘Come into the living room.’
I led them in and immediately wished I hadn’t. The room was a tip. Somehow my little brother had managed to leave half a sandwich, a bottle of Coke and a pair of what looked like his underpants on the table. I grabbed the pants and hid them behind my back, trying not to laugh, as my aunt brushed the sofa with her hand before sitting down.
‘Your mother must be very busy at work,’ she said slyly as she looked around the room in disgust, without even trying to hide her expression.
‘I dunno,’ I said, wishing that she would go and die somewhere, preferably in great pain. The stupid bitch.
‘Where is my brother?’ asked Uncle Rajbir, in Punjabi again.
‘In the kitchen – making our food,’ I told him, knowing that the thought of my dad cooking would wind him up. My uncle thought it was women’s work. And it was one more reason for him to think that my mum was a witch – the git.
‘So did you have fun in town?’ asked Ruby, trying to lighten the mood as I prayed for one of my parents to come into the room and take over from me.
‘Yeah – it was a surprising afternoon,’ I told her, with emphasis.
‘Oh,’ replied Ruby, going a bit red.
‘What is wrong with your face?’ her mum asked.
‘Nothing, Mum,’ lied Ruby.
‘We can pop up to my room in a bit,’ I told her, not letting it go. ‘Have a nice girlie chat …’
‘Er … yeah, that would be good,’ she said.
‘Don’t count on it,’ I warned, watching Ruby’s gaze drop to the floor.
Just then my parents walked in, together with Jay, who looked like he had been smartened up very quickly. Normally this involved him having his face washed and dried with a tea towel, and his hair slicked back with water. By the redness of his face I could tell that my mum hadn’t given him any warning before she’d snatched him from his chair and shoved his head under the tap. He looked like he was still in shock. One minute he’d been murdering aliens by the dozen; the next he found himself standing in front of guests with wet hair, water trickling down his collar. Poor kid.
‘Hello!’ said my dad, in a madly happy voice.
I looked at my mum and grimaced.
I made the tea Indian-style, which involved standing at the cooker for ages watching milk and tea bags simmer and boil over and over again. At some point I threw in enough sugar to give a whale diabetes and then I strained it into a pot, trying not to scald myself. Ruby watched as I poured it and said nothing. When I was done I told her to grab a load of mugs and follow me back into the living room, where my mum had cleared the table. I wondered whether Ruby had seen me throw Jay’s underpants behind the bin in the kitchen but then I realized she would have said something if she had. I would have. I didn’t hear my mum talking to me.
‘Simmy …?’
‘Huh?’ I asked dumbly.
‘Biscuits?’ said my mum slowly.
‘Oh yeah …just getting them.’
I walked out of the room just as my aunt spoke, repeating what she’d said to me a little earlier.
‘You must be very busy at work,’ she said to my mum, looking round the room with her beady little eyes.
I stood just the other side of the door and listened in.
‘What makes you say that?’ asked my mum, brushing the seat she was sitting on with her hand.
‘Well, obviously you have little time to tidy the house but what can you do – three children, full-time job?’
I waited to see how long it took my mum to reply. I knew that she was counting to ten to stop herself from throwing her mug at my aunt, and I followed her count. I got to eleven before my mum replied.
‘Oh, you know how it is,’ she said, through gritted teeth.
‘No – I’m afraid I don’t,’ replied my aunt. ‘I have no need to work. My husband provides all I need.’ She emphasized her words with hand gestures and nodded her head from side to side. It was a really Indian thing to do.
‘Well, I enjoy working,’ said my mum. ‘I’d get very bored if I just sat at home, getting more and more sour each day …’
‘Sour?’ asked my aunt. ‘What is this meaning? I don’t understand.’
‘Oh, nothing. Too much time on your hands – nothing to do except gossip …’ said my mum, beginning to lose it again.
‘Biscuit, anyone?’ asked my dad, saving the day. Then he shouted at me. ‘Simran – hurry up!’
‘On my way!’ I shouted back, wondering what more the evening would bring.
I ended up in my room with Ruby and after about twenty minutes of faked normal chat we got round to discussing the gig the following Saturday, the one that Ruby had jumped the gun on.
‘You should have asked me first,’ I told her.
‘I know – I’m sorry …’ she said. ‘Didn’t think you’d mind.’
‘It’s OK,’ I told her. ‘Besides, we can do each other a favour.’
‘I don’t understand.’
I looked at her and smiled. ‘I’m not coming to that bhangra gig – you know I’m not into it that much …’
Ruby’s face fell. ‘But then what’s the point of—?’ she began.
>
I cut her off. ‘I’m going out to another place – a bar or something – with Lisa and that lad you disapprove of …’ I said, waiting for her to reply.
‘That black boy?’
‘He’s not a boy,’ I told her. ‘Priti and her mates are going to the gig anyway so you can catch up with them. And at the end of the night I’ll come and meet you outside the gig and we can share a cab back here—’
‘But I thought we were going together,’ she said, looking confused.
‘No – you and Priti said you were going; I didn’t say a word.’
‘Are you sure about seeing this black guy though?’ she asked.
I wondered whether to admit that I was already seeing him but I decided against it. ‘We’re just going out for a drink,’ I lied. ‘Nothing serious …’
‘If you get caught—’ said Ruby.
‘By who?’ I asked. ‘And do I care anyway?’
‘I can’t believe you’re … There’s plenty of nice Punjabi guys out there,’ she told me.
‘It’s not about that. It’s not like I go out looking only for Punjabi guys or I went searching for some black lad. I don’t look at colour …’
‘Well, I think you’re making a mistake,’ she said.
‘Yeah, you’ve told me that already – and you know what? I couldn’t care less.’
‘I don’t mean to be nasty or anything. You’re my cousin – I’m just telling you how things work,’ said Ruby. ‘It’s a taboo – I even saw a programme about it. The Last Taboo—’
‘You what?’
‘It’s the one thing that Asian parents ain’t going to accept. It’s just wrong—’
‘No – you’re wrong,’ I told her.
‘We’ll see,’ she said. ‘It’s just my opinion – that’s all. They ain’t like us—’
I heard her mum calling up to her, telling her that they were leaving.
‘Well, keep your opinions to yourself, Rube – otherwise we’re gonna fall out and I don’t want that.’
Ruby gave me a look and then shrugged. ‘OK,’ she said.
After the visitors had gone I stayed in my room for a bit and exchanged flirty text messages with Tyrone. Then I thought about Ruby and what she’d said about taboos. Wasn’t that the point of them – to be broken? I went down about an hour later and I could hear the sound of dying aliens coming from the kitchen. I popped my head round the door and saw Jay. He was on his own.
