Sunjeev Sahota - The Year of the Runaways

They shared what food they had, including a bag of peanuts Avtar had bought, and found a warm spot between two large green recycling bins.

‘This isn’t too bad,’ Avtar said, arranging his rucksack.

‘I need to pee.’

‘I told you to go at the station.’

‘I didn’t need one then, did I?’

Randeep got up and walked to a bush further down the road. When he came back Avtar was already asleep.

In the morning Avtar retrieved his ringing mobile from the bottom of his rucksack.

‘It’s Gurpreet,’ he said.

‘He wasn’t in the van, was he?’

‘He must’ve got away.’

They met him at the station, which was where Gurpreet said he’d spent the night. His white vest was ripped across the stomach. He’d jumped the fence, he said. He saw the van coming up the road and had hurdled — ‘Hurdled!’ Randeep repeated — at least three gardens before hiding in one of the gennels.

‘I saw you two walking past,’ he finished.

‘You saw us?’ Avtar said. ‘You saw us and let us carry on walking up? Did you want us to get caught?’

Gurpreet smiled, spat at the ground. ‘Bygones. You got any money? I’m fucking starving.’

They bought a burger each from the station kiosk and gulped water from the taps in the toilets. Even if they could have shaken Gurpreet off, there was more chance of finding work if they stuck together.

‘Maybe we should go see your Narinderji,’ Gurpreet said.

‘I thought you were going to Southampton?’ Randeep said.

‘You paying for my ticket? I can’t hide for six hours.’

‘She won’t let us stay.’ The idea of turning up at her flat appalled him. And it would appal her. He wouldn’t put her in that predicament. ‘No. We can’t. It wouldn’t be fair to her. She won’t like it. She won’t even let us through the front door.’

‘She might.’ It was Avtar, turning round from the departure boards. ‘She might. If she’s so into helping others.’

Avtar and Gurpreet promised to wait down the road and out of sight while he went upstairs to speak to her.

She answered the door in one of her usual cardigans. ‘Randeep? So soon?’

He asked if he might come inside, that it was important.

She turned side-on. ‘Is everything OK? Are we in trouble?’

‘There was a raid,’ he said, sitting down. ‘Luckily I managed to get us all out in time.’

‘Oh my God!’ A hand went to her mouth. ‘So, the police? They’re on their way?’

‘No, no. Please don’t worry. That’s what I mean — we got away. We’re fine. But, obviously, we can’t go back there and — well — Avtar bhaji wondered if we could stay here for a bit.’

‘Here?’

‘I said it’s not fair and that you won’t like it, but they made me come and ask.’

‘Is it the two of you?’

‘Three,’ he said, and felt a rush of hope that she might like him enough to agree.

‘There’s no room. And I’m not going to have three men living here. It’s not right. It’s not what we said.’

‘I understand.’ He got up to leave. He was her husband, in name if nothing else, and it was humiliating to have had to lower himself in front of her like this.

She walked him to the top of the stairs. ‘You do have somewhere else to go?’

‘We’ll be fine. Like I said, please don’t worry.’

He rejoined the others, shaking his head as he approached.

‘What?’ Avtar said, shocked. ‘She said no?’

‘Of course she said no. Any decent girl would.’

‘Put your foot down,’ Gurpreet said.

‘Did you tell her we’ve got nowhere else to go? That we’re homeless?’

Randeep let his silence give its own impression.

‘Who does she think she is?’ Avtar said. ‘Walking round with her turban in the sky.’ He marched up the hill and rang the buzzer even as Randeep tried to pull him away.

The door opened only a few degrees. ‘Ji?’

‘Call yourself a daughter of God? How can you look in the mirror when you’ve just left us to die on the streets?’

Randeep remained with Narinder at the doorway, his suitcase on the floor in front of him. Avtar was plugging in his phone charger. Gurpreet had his head in the fridge.

‘Thank you,’ Randeep said. ‘I know this isn’t easy for you.’

‘I should move my things,’ she said, indicating the shrine.

‘I’ll make sure we’re not here long. I promise.’

‘How long?’

‘A week. I’m certain bhaji will have found somewhere else for us by then.’

‘OK. A week. But no longer, please. Someone might see,’ she added.

He nodded. He understood. She was worried her family would hear she was living in a house full of men. ‘I promise I’ll do my best.’

‘We’ll be out looking for work during the day,’ Avtar said, joining them. ‘You won’t see us.’

‘This where I’m sleeping, then?’

They turned round. Her bedroom door had been opened and Gurpreet stood inside.

‘Looks comfy.’

She charged forward and told him to get out, shutting the door hard behind him. ‘Stay away from my room. Is that understood?’

They moved the settee away from the window and laid two blankets, folded lengthways, in the space created. Avtar and Randeep took these. Gurpreet lay snoring on the couch.

‘What you doing?’ Randeep asked Avtar. He was messaging on his phone, had been for some half an hour.

‘Nothing,’ he said, drawing the mobile closer to his chest, though not before Randeep thought he’d glimpsed. . something. His sister’s name? He must have misread. He must be missing his family, seeing their names everywhere. And, of course, there were a million Lakhpreets out there. So many. It all became too much even to think about. He blew the hair from his forehead — it needed a cut — and stared at the tiny fissures in the ceiling. There were noises outside, footsteps brushing the pavement. He moved onto his knees at the window and saw Tochi in his uniform, counting his money as he walked.

‘Him?’ Avtar asked.

Randeep nodded.

‘What’s he doing?’

Randeep lay back down, closed his eyes. ‘Nothing.’

They tried every convenience store and off-licence and takeaway joint; they asked the man picking litter off the streets and the woman wiping tables in Burger King; they asked construction workers cordoning off a part of the road.

‘You’re idiots!’ Gurpreet said. He was several metres behind, stopping for a pull on his half-bottle of whisky. ‘There is no work!’

‘Where’d he get the money for that?’ Avtar said. ‘Were you short this morning?’

‘A bit.’

‘I’ve told you. Keep it safe.’

At the end of the week, Randeep knocked on Narinder’s bedroom door and she came out to meet them.

‘We’re sorry,’ he said, ‘but could we stay here a little longer?’

‘Randeep!’ she said, despairing.

‘I’m sorry. I hate having to ask you. But we’ll definitely find work next week. Won’t we?’

Avtar said nothing. He seemed completely embarrassed to be standing there.

‘And then I can pay you as well,’ Randeep said. ‘I’d have enough for this month, but I need to send Mamma—’

‘It’s not about that.’

Randeep nodded. ‘Of course.’

‘OK. But just one more week. Please?’

‘Thank you.’

Narinder began to retreat into her room.

‘One more thing?’ Randeep said.

She waited for him to go on, but he went to the window first, to check Gurpreet was still outside with his cigarette. Then he plucked a healthy roll of notes from the inside of his sock and held it out to her.

‘It’s not safe having money here. With Gurpreet bhaji. We wondered if you’d mind keeping it locked in one of your cupboards for us?’