Sunjeev Sahota - The Year of the Runaways

‘I’ve been letting you all win so far,’ Biju went on. ‘Now watch how I make you all my bhabhi.’

‘How many did you do today?’ Avtar asked.

‘Seven,’ Sony said. ‘You?’

Avtar frowned, played his highest club. ‘Four.’

‘He knows you work hard.’

‘Yeah. Maybe.’

Biju went with a low heart, forcing Avtar to risk the ace.

‘This’ll cheer you up,’ Sony said. ‘I heard there’s a pataka shed a few streets down. What do you think? Next pay day?’

‘Can’t,’ Avtar said. ‘Need to—’

‘Pay my loans and send some home,’ they finished for him, yawning comically.

‘Have some fun,’ Sony said. ‘Make up for it next month.’

‘Do you have a job for next month?’ Avtar asked, genuinely.

‘Something’ll come up.’ He sounded cagey, like he probably did have one ready. Avtar didn’t blame him for not disclosing it. He’d have done the same.

‘Oh, you goat-fucking Malveyah!’ Biju said after Sony very gleefully turned over his pair of twos.

Avtar threw his cards into the centre. ‘Whose deal?’

In the van, Avtar asked what was going to happen to them next week.

‘Next week?’ Jagdish said.

‘You said the contract’s finished next week.’

‘It is.’

Avtar waited. All the boys were listening. ‘Do you—?’

‘I’ve not decided what I’m going to do with you yet.’

‘So you might find work for us? Another contract?’

They could see him smiling in the mirror. ‘There is work. But not for all of you. Some of you I’ll have to kick out. Let’s see who performs best, yes?’

On the last day, as they hosed off their suits and changed into their clothes, Jagdish approached. ‘How many?’

‘Four,’ Avtar said. There was no point lying — they had cameras to double-check.

‘Is that all? Four? Do I look like your chachi’s cunt that you can come to me with a straight face and tell me you only did four all day?’

‘Sorry, sahib.’

‘Saala, bhanchod. Is it him? Is he holding you back?’

Romy stood a little way off, grimacing into the van’s wing mirror as he pulled strips of slime out of his hair. Avtar said nothing, and Jagdish nodded and put a cross beside Romy’s name.

They’d not been home an hour when five of them were ordered to grab their stuff and get back in the van. He’d drop them where he’d found them, and from there they could return to whichever rathole they’d sprung from. Romy collapsed onto his knees, then his belly, and pressed his forehead to Jagdish’s grey loafers.

‘Please, sahib, let me stay.’

‘Get away,’ Jagdish said, though he seemed to be enjoying this little moment. ‘I’ve made my decision. It is final.’

‘No, sahib. It can’t be.’

‘Sahib?’ Avtar said, tentative. ‘Please let him stay.’

‘Do I look stupid? He’s never been a worker.’

‘I will, sahib,’ Romy said. ‘Please let me stay.’

‘Get in the bhanchod van. Enough drama.’

‘Please, sahib,’ Avtar tried again. ‘I’ll make sure he works.’

‘How about I keep you both and pay for one. You happy with that? Half each? Agreed?’

Romy looked at Avtar. ‘Bhaji’ll agree to that,’ he said. ‘That’s OK, isn’t it? We’ll carry on working together.’

‘Well?’ Jagdish said.

Avtar shook his head and moved away from the van.

‘Thought so,’ Jagdish said. ‘Not so high-horse now, eh?’

They returned to the shed: Avtar, Biju, Sony and two others.

‘Surprised he kept you, fattyman,’ Sony said.

‘I raise the standard of the group,’ Biju replied.

Jagdish appeared at the door. ‘Before I forget, I need your passports and papers. For the next job.’

‘You took copies already,’ Sony said.

‘Hurry up. Or do you want to get in the van?’

They handed over their documents and heard the key turn.

‘Why’s he locked it?’ Biju asked, switching on the lamp.

‘At least we get a mattress each now,’ Sony said. He drew the deck of cards from his trouser pocket. ‘Everyone in?’

Avtar sat down, forcing dust out of the mattress. He rubbed the space between his eyebrows and, as if the two things were connected, a picture of Randeep materialized: standing with his case in the car park, getting smaller.

‘All right?’ Biju asked.

‘Why wouldn’t I be?’

‘No reason. Some people might feel a little guilty.’

‘Luckily for me, guilt’s a luxury I can’t afford.’

‘Hmm. Maybe.’

Avtar frowned. He felt disturbed by his attitude, though he was sure he’d had no choice, either with Randeep or Romy. ‘Come on. Hey, Sony — deal us in.’

*

Her right foot rose off the seat of the chair as she reached up. She held the plastic collar, unscrewed the dead bulb, and replaced it with a new one she unfurled from the knot in her chunni. She tried the switch and the bulb glowed, palely bright against the window. There was nothing more to do. The room was clean, her bed made. And yet they were still here. She moved to the landing, where the sun ran thinly down the stairs. She’d not even been back a week and this must be the fifth family to visit, to congratulate Baba.

‘But why did she go?’ she heard the aunty ask.

‘She’s not said much,’ Baba Tarsem Singh said. ‘I think the wedding scared her. For so long it’s only been us three. She’s a good girl, really.’

‘Don’t make excuses for her.’

‘Tejpal’s right,’ the aunty said. ‘She rubbed your face in the shit, in front of everybody. She humiliated you. What kind of good daughter does that?’

‘I know my Narinder. She has a good heart. And I know she won’t do it again.’

‘I won’t let her do it again. I’ll kill her first. She’s getting married, and then she’s someone else’s problem.’

‘Tejpal, please. You should support your sister.’

‘I love her, Dad, but what she did was wrong. She put a knife through this family.’

‘She’s naive.’

‘Stop making excuses for her,’ he said again, louder this time. ‘You’ve always made excuses for her. Oh, she’s young. Oh, she’s innocent. She’s not any of those things. She knows exactly what she’s doing.’

‘I’m only saying it’s not been easy for her. Growing up without a mother.’

A silence. Then: ‘And I suppose it was a cakewalk for me? But I’ve only ever lived my life by the rules. By your rules.’

‘Tejpal—’

Narinder shrank back before her brother could see her. She heard him take up his keys from the glass table in the hall and the front door slam.

They ate late that night, waiting for Tejpal, and when he did return he said he wasn’t hungry and went straight up to his room. Narinder reheated the food and sat down to eat with her baba. The night pressed against the window. There was the choppy grind of a helicopter passing overhead. The lamp turned her father’s yellow turban copper and cast on the wall a huge shadow of his cane.

‘I’m sorry I embarrassed you, Baba.’

She’d been desperate to say this and as the words left her mouth a channel seemed to open up between them.

‘I know you are, beiti. As I keep telling everyone, I know my daughter and even if she can’t tell me her reasons they must be noble ones.’

‘I think they were.’

‘But you say it is all over now?’

She nodded. She still hadn’t heard from Randeep. If he didn’t get in touch by the end of the year she’d contact Vakeel Sahib herself and ask him to get the divorce done with. He’d said it would take a month or two only. For now she’d remain here, with her father. Next June she’d marry Karamjeet and spend the rest of her life with him and his family.