Sunjeev Sahota - The Year of the Runaways

They spoke for a while. The usual things. Family, football, work. Vinny said it was going well. That he had a big project — a hotel — in his portfolio and a couple more in the pipeline. ‘Happy days. Just waiting for the funds to come through.’

So, he needed money.

‘Well, if you need any more faujis,’ Uncle said, ‘I might know someone.’

And maybe he gestured or something because Vinny appeared at the top of Tochi’s aisle. ‘Him?’

Tochi came forward, nodding at Vinny. ‘Uncle, shall I start sweeping up outside?’

He was ignored, while Vinny explained that Tochi was one of his men, that he’d picked him up from a restaurant in Southall.

‘You didn’t say you worked on the building side?’ Uncle said.

‘I didn’t want to.’

‘Oh, I bump into them everywhere,’ Vinny said. ‘Fuck knows where the pigs are looking, cos I can’t go into a chippy without seeing one of my lot. You’ve got a good one here, though. Hard worker. Not the chattiest, mind.’

Uncle agreed. ‘But he’s stubborn. Maybe you can talk some sense into him. We want to get him set with my missus’s niece. Marriage-wise. I don’t know what’s wrong with him. He just says no.’

Tochi stared at the floor, heat rising horribly up his neck. It was all going to come crashing down. Right here. Vinny looked from Tochi to Uncle and back again. ‘That’s great. That’s really open-minded of you, Del.’

Tochi closed his eyes, waiting.

‘He’s a good lad,’ Uncle said. ‘He deserves a break.’

‘Still. Good on you.’

Vinny left soon after, saying he’d come again another day. They watched the van reverse out.

‘I was waiting for that,’ Uncle said. ‘He’s been everywhere with his begging bowl. Lucky for me you were here.’

Tochi said nothing.

‘He’s a nice boy but they’re on to him so if you’ve got any sense you’ll cut your ties. Find another job. And if you’re living in one of his houses, move.’

Tochi asked again if he should start sweeping up outside.

‘And if you’ve got any real sense, you’ll agree to meeting the girl.’

Tochi looked away.

‘Uff, so what if she’s divorced? Or is it her boy? Look, son, in your situation that’s the best you’re going to do. Most wouldn’t think twice.’

‘I’ll get the broom,’ Tochi said.

‘Yes, yes. Fob me off. But don’t think for a minute your aunty is going to be so easy.’

Alone in his room, Tochi made a call to Ardashir. There was nothing at the restaurant, he said — Tochi had been replaced by a fauji from Bangla.

‘Let me know if that changes.’

‘OK.’

‘I’d need somewhere to live, too.’

‘Was there something wrong with my floor?’

He went downstairs and sorted himself some water from the sink. He checked the rota. No, not his turn tomorrow. Beneath it, the naked girls calendar was still on March, a month out of date. The front door went and Avtar came in and walked straight past Tochi and to the cooker. He took two rotis out of their foil and spooned on some cold sabzi from the fridge. His rucksack hung squarely on his back, a textbook discernible through the thin material.

‘Vinny’s in trouble. We’re going to be raided,’ Tochi said.

‘Move, then.’

‘And jobs. We’ll lose our jobs.’

Avtar looked across. ‘How do you know?’

‘What’s it like where you are?’

‘There’s nothing.’

Tochi looked at him for a long while, then pushed off the counter and returned upstairs.

His eyelashes quivered, he wasn’t sure; something, some furry dream-tail, was trying to lead him back to sleep. But that was his watch pipping, which meant — what? 5 a.m. already? He remained beneath the duvet and it took another minute for sleep to evaporate completely. He could hear the pale sounds of the gurbani coming from her bedroom. Before he’d even arrived, she’d cleared the shrine from its corner, saying he could use the vacated space for his suitcase and things. At ten past, he swung his feet to the carpet and padded softly to the bathroom. He showered in the evenings after work — and what a joyous feeling it was to once again have a shower, and a hot one at that — so all he had to do in the mornings was brush his teeth and wash his face and take a piss, which he aimed at the side of the bowl. He didn’t want to disturb her praying. He dressed in his work clothes, reflector jacket over the top, folded the duvet to the end of the settee and at twenty-five past he started for work. It was a delicate and spotty light that greeted him these days.

He could have left the flat as late as six o’clock and still made it to the station in time to be picked up by Vinnyji. He just thought it was best to go as soon as possible — she seemed reluctant to come out from her room while he was there. No doubt she was afraid of walking in on him naked or something. She was a modest girl. Woman. A woman of mystery. He still didn’t know who she was or what was driving her. It definitely wasn’t the money. He wished she’d let him in. If she was in trouble, then, like any good husband, he wanted to help her.

Inevitably, the boys — at the site, in the van to and from work — wanted to know how it was going. Had he finally experienced his suhaag raat, his wedding night? Their questions and insinuations pained him, even more so as he deflected them, and when he was dropped off at the station in the evening he climbed down from the van and said, ‘Enjoy your night,’ as if suggesting that was exactly what he’d be doing.

Once he reached the flat they’d exchange a polite sat sri akal and Randeep would take some clothes from his suitcase and on into the bathroom. He’d shower and re-emerge barefoot in a white cotton kurta pyjama. They ate quietly opposite one another at the small round dining table, fresh daffodils in the vase.

One evening he asked her, ‘If you could go anywhere in the world where would you go?’

She was making some sort of list. ‘Pardon?’

‘Next year I’m going to go to New York. I’ve decided. And then one day Australia. I want to fly everywhere. Don’t you agree?’

‘Agree?’

‘Because the world is big! And we make life such a small thing. I want my life to be big, too.’

She went back to her list. ‘I’m happy with wherever God leads me.’

His smile wavered. ‘Of course. I didn’t mean you weren’t. I’m sorry if that’s how it sounded.’

She nodded, not looking up, and Randeep turned again to the map on the wall.

The following afternoon, the first of his two Sundays, he rushed back from the station. It was starting to rain, true, the fine drizzle beginning to soup up, but that wasn’t why he was running. He’d had an idea. When he got back, she was unpacking groceries. Raindrops beaded the edge of her chunni and a wet, peachy scent seemed to have swept in behind her. Going to the supermarket had been one thing he was going to suggest they do, like other couples, maybe tomorrow evening. But that could wait—

‘Narinderji, let’s go to the fair.’

She turned round, a jar of something in her hand. ‘The fair?’

He took the flyer out of his pocket and thrust it at her.

‘Oh, no. It’s not for me.’

‘It’s for everyone! And it’ll be fun. Please say yes.’

‘Sorry. You go.’

‘Oh, yes, I suppose I could.’ But the whole point was that they do something together. Open up to each other a little. ‘What about the gurdwara, then?’

‘Excuse me?’

‘The gurdwara.’

‘This evening?’

‘Just, with the visit next week, it might be good to get God’s blessing. Make sure He’s watching over us.’

She returned to her cupboards, her back to him. ‘There’s an akhand paat on. It’ll be busy.’