Sunjeev Sahota - The Year of the Runaways

‘You should’ve called.’

‘You were worried?’ Randeep asked.

Tochi walked in from the hallway. Clean, healthy, warm in his scarf and jacket and gloves. He looked like he was doing well. Next to him, Avtar felt like a dog come in off the street.

‘They’re here,’ Narinder said, pointlessly.

Randeep nodded at him and looked over at Avtar, who said nothing. ‘Is no one else here?’ Randeep asked. ‘Is it only you two?’

Narinder nodded. ‘For over two months now.’

He felt himself flush crimson, maybe a little humiliated. His wife. ‘We should go,’ he said.

‘We’re staying here,’ Avtar said.

‘Is it safe?’

‘Must be.’

‘You’re not staying here,’ Tochi said.

‘Who asked you?’ Avtar said, rising.

Narinder stepped in. ‘Stop it, all of you. Of course you’re staying here.’ She looked at Tochi, her lips parted in surprise. ‘You can’t expect them to spend winter on the streets.’

He said nothing and shut the door hard on his way out.

Narinder exhaled, as if at least one obstacle had been successfully negotiated. ‘I should go to work, too.’

‘Work?’ Randeep said, smiling a touch to himself.

‘Yes.’ She put on her coat and took her bag from the doorknob. ‘We’ll talk more tonight. But eat what you want. And if you want to wash there are towels in the first floor cupboard. It’s next—’

‘We know where it is,’ Avtar said. ‘We were here first.’

Avtar suggested they share his old room, but Randeep said he’d take the one next door.

‘You sure?’ Avtar said, a little shocked.

‘I’m sure.’

They washed and shaved and brushed their teeth with toothpaste for the first time in months. They even held their heads under the tap and ran several jugs of hot water through their hair, for the feel of it. Afterwards, Avtar tried calling home. No one picked up. It was late there, he supposed. He’d try again in the morning, to make sure they hadn’t had any trouble.

Next door, Randeep lay on his mattress, on his side, on his own.

‘We need to find work tomorrow,’ Avtar said, coming in.

‘How’s your stomach?’

‘Fine.’

‘Was it something you ate?’

‘You know,’ Avtar said, changing the subject, ‘if you want any chance of getting with her, you need to stop calling her Narinderji for starters. Like she’s better than you.’

‘I don’t want to get with her.’

‘Because girls don’t go for boys who give compliments all the time.’

Randeep sat up. ‘Can I ask you something? Are you in a relationship with my sister?’

Avtar looked across. He didn’t feel surprise, though. ‘Yes. We’re going to marry. I’m sorry we didn’t tell you, but I hope we can have your blessing.’ He was her older brother, after all.

‘Of course.’ He held out his hand, which Avtar took. ‘Congratulations. I think you’ll be a fine brother-in-law.’

‘I hope your mother agrees.’

Randeep chuckled lightly. ‘Can I be there when you tell her?’

‘You can take my place.’

They waited for Tochi — Narinder insisted — but eventually she had to give in and let them make a start before it got cold.

‘I’m sorry it’s not more,’ she said.

‘It’s a feast,’ Randeep said, though he spooned very little of the sabzi onto his plate, as if he’d got used to eating morsels. It made her wince to imagine how he might have been living.

‘You’ve lost weight,’ she said. His shoulders seemed even bonier, pointy under his thin turquoise shirt.

‘It happens. Narinder,’ he added, smiling at his food.

‘We didn’t have a kitchen,’ Avtar said, pushing on. ‘Of course we were going to lose weight.’

‘Yes,’ Narinder said, measuring out each letter of the word. Avtar seemed all too willing to be offended. ‘It can’t have been easy.’

‘It’s never easy when you don’t have a job. Or when someone steals it from you.’

‘Tochi. .’ Randeep explained.

She nodded. ‘You said.’

‘He’s a thief,’ Avtar said.

‘I’m sure there’s more to it than that,’ Narinder said quietly.

Avtar looked up from his roti. ‘Not really. He planned it. He told him — ’ nodding at Randeep — ‘that he was going to do it. And then he did, while I was away. He forced us onto the streets.’

‘I’m only saying it’s not easy for anyone. He’s suffered as well. He’s been through a lot.’

‘And that gives him the right?’

‘At least you have visas. If he gets caught, he doesn’t have anything.’

‘I’m surprised you’re defending him.’

‘I’m not, but—’

‘My family is up to here in debt because I wanted to come here. If I don’t have work God knows what will happen to them. Do you understand that? Do you know what they do to people in India that don’t pay up? Do you?’

He shoved his plate with such force that it rattled to her side of the table. ‘Stuff your food,’ he finished, getting up, but the slowness of his exit took all the sting out of it.

‘I’m sorry,’ Randeep said. ‘He doesn’t mean it. He’s worried about his family. And he’s not well.’

‘He should see a doctor.’

‘That’s what I said. He thinks they’ll inform on him.’

They carried on with their meal. He hadn’t asked her about the kesri, about why she’d discarded it and now kept her hair uncovered. Her slender wrists were bare, without their kara, and he’d not seen any images of Guru Nanak. The shrine, that too seemed to have disappeared.

‘Have you spoken to your family?’ she asked. ‘How’s your father?’

‘It’s been a while. I imagine they’re fine.’

‘Oh. Good,’ she said, a little confused.

The side gate sounded — scraping the ground — and Tochi came in. If he was surprised that they were still at the table he didn’t show it.

‘There’s plenty of food,’ Narinder said.

‘I’ve eaten,’ he said, and carried on under the beads and up the stairs.

Randeep looked at Narinder, who was staring in the direction of the hallway.

It was getting better. He was sure of it. The yellowing along his left groin had lessened, definitely, and peeing didn’t seem such a hardship any more. Only the flesh beneath his stomach felt worse: the soft patch of skin like old fruit, as if it might slip straight off if he pinched too hard. He soaked his bandage under the cold tap, wrung out the water and rewound it around himself, fastening the end with a safety pin he’d found in the kitchen.

He could even walk quite far without stopping for breath.

‘Maybe you are getting better,’ Randeep said.

They were heading for a timber yard in Manor Top, where they’d found a couple of days’ work loading lorries with sawn-off wooden poles.

‘The body is strong, janaab,’ Avtar said, and did a muscleman pose.

But the wooden poles were thick and square and heavy, and soon Avtar was wheezing and Randeep asked if he wanted to take a break.

‘Don’t be stupid,’ Avtar said, lowering his shoulder and then the pole onto the lorry floor. ‘Can you afford to lose this job?’

‘You seem to be struggling, that’s all.’

‘Well, I’m not.’

There were nine lorries and two vans in the yard, and when the last of them was loaded, Avtar collapsed against one of the huge tyres. His arms were quivering, as though his muscles wanted out.

Randeep jogged back from the low barn-like building, their pay in his hand. ‘He said good job and he’ll think of us for next time.’

‘Nothing for tomorrow?’

‘Nothing. He said there might be more work in some other factory. In Rotherham. We’ve been there, haven’t we?’