13.3
‘So I found you then,’ began Mrs Singh, glancing down at her husband as she meandered to his side. ‘I had an idea you’d be here. Just like the old days, eh?’
Wandering down the old lane and up onto the High Street had brought back memories of the summer of 1974. For a moment, she had found herself back there, watching a crowd of punks revelling outside the fish and chip shop with their shoulders hunched, laughing hysterically at the sight of them as they passed, as if they had forgotten that their own hair was green. Hurrying on towards the river, following the patterned brick pavement first and then the narrow, cobbled streets, she had cast her mind back to those exhilarating days when they were first married. They had nothing then except each other, but they were so intensely happy. He had won her over with his poetry and his constant flattery; she was beautiful to him then, her adorable looks the subject of many a line of verse.
Pacing along a litter-strewn pavement a moment ago, the sickening, musty smell in the air had repulsed her, but she had felt certain that she was heading in the right direction, that she was closing in on the wandering one. A moment ago, she had caught sight of him ahead of her, leaning over the railings on the pier, glancing around, examining a bench overlooking the dirty, brown swell. He had seemed to stand motionless for some time, as if to take in the desolate panorama of rusty pipes and towers, stacks and chimneys, and that smell of salty mud and kerosene.
‘What are you doing here?’ he asked, gazing back at her surprised.
‘I was about to ask you the same question,’ she replied, dropping onto the wrought iron bench next to him. ‘Why aren’t you at work?’
‘If you found me,’ he muttered tiredly, ‘you must’ve been to the shop.’
‘No,’ she replied, ‘not me. Sukhbir came home early. He told me he couldn’t find you.’
‘Then you know,’ he droned, ‘It’s out of my hands. I’ve sold it at last. We exchanged papers this morning.’
‘So that’s why you had to leave so early. Why didn’t you say?’
‘I’ve been let down too many times. I’ve been working on it for months. If I told you every time we were about to do a deal, you would’ve stopped believing me. I even had doubts it would go through today. It’s been an exhausting process.’
‘So that’s it? You’ve sold the shop?’
‘I’ve sold the business, the machines, the leasehold, everything. Everything except my staff; I had to let them go. But even the Hoover bags are theirs now. I’m glad to be rid of it.’
‘I’m not sure what to make of the new owners. Sukhbir wasn’t impressed.’
‘Beggars can’t be choosers, can they? I built that business from scratch, from nothing, and then they come in and treat me like an ignorant fool. I just swallowed my pride. They paid good money for it. It’s theirs now. Let me get a job at News and Booze. To them it’s where I belong. It’s all people like them think we’re worth.’
‘But your business means everything to you.’
‘My bloody business, you mean? I’ll miss your rants, you know? Does it mean everything to me? Well it did once, but it just became a noose around my neck, didn’t it? I’ll look for a new job tomorrow.’
‘I’m stunned,’ whispered his wife, gazing at her soulmate, ‘I didn’t see that coming.’
‘I learned long ago not to discuss the ins and outs of my business with you. Imagine if the sale had fallen through again. It would only cause more grief.’
Looking at his wife out of the corner of his eye, he groaned awkwardly. ‘And now it’s your turn,’ he stumbled on, ‘what brings you here? Surely not the sale of my business alone. Another lecture about Satya? Well I promised I’d deal with her tonight, didn’t I? I meant it, you know. As you can see, my meeting with my solicitor wasn’t just some lame excuse. I wish you had some faith in me.’
‘I do Vijay,’ she crooned, glancing at him affectionately, regretting her rage.
‘So what’s new?’ he asked impatiently.
Beside him, Mrs Singh took in his weary face, studying the wrinkles that had etched ravines all around his eyes, his hair turning grey too soon.
‘The school called,’ she said nervously.
‘A bad day?’
‘You could say that.’
‘Sukhbir?’
She shook her head. ‘No, Satya,’ she said, but then paused. ‘And Sukhbir,’ she added. ‘He came home early to talk to me.’
‘What did he want?’ he grunted tensely, ‘More of the same?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘Surprisingly.’ Though he refused her his eyes, she studied the side of his face, searching for the man who had wooed her twenty years ago. ‘I think we need to talk,’ she told him resolutely.
‘I’m all ears,’ he replied.
Mrs Singh stared out across the choppy brown water, watching as seagulls darted towards the foam, fighting over a discarded burger in a polystyrene tray. Some flew off with a chip in their beaks, but two or three had clearly developed a penchant for piccalilli, sending feathers into the wash. ‘Where did we go wrong? Sukhbir used to play so nicely with his sister. You remember it, don’t you?’ she muttered sombrely, ‘They used to be best friends. He used to say she was special too. He used to be proud to say Satya was his sister. They used to have such fun together.’
‘They’re both teenagers. I didn’t expect them not to fight. It’s what brothers and sisters do. They’ll grow out of it soon. When they go out into the world, they’ll be best friends again.’
‘Do you really think so? I don’t see how. Sukhbir’s gone too far. He’s gone from that loving little boy, so cute and caring, to this: from caring for his sister to hating her, as if she’s the worst person on earth.’ Recalling their childish games of make-believe could have brought a smile to her face, but the memory of this morning obliterated it. ‘But at least he’s acknowledging that now. He admits that for the past six months, he’s made her life hell.’
‘Just six months?’
‘At least they had eight hours away from each other last year.’
‘True. So what’s brought this on?’
‘I don’t know. Is it possible he’s been soul searching? He spoke of his jealousy. His envy. But maybe there’s no reason. Maybe hating her just suited him and he just enjoyed putting her down. Maybe this is just what he’s become. But he says he regrets it now.’
‘Well that’s a start.’
‘Except I don’t think it’s remorse at all,’ she said, ‘It’s fear.’
Beside her, her husband struggled to find the right words with which to respond. ‘But I’m sorry,’ he said finally, caressing her back, making eye contact with her at last. ‘We’ll get through this somehow,’ he told her doubtfully, watching as a tug chugged past them, churning the tide over in its wake, a black plume of diesel smoke thundering into the air.
‘I’m not sure how,’ keened Mrs Singh, pushing her fingers across her forehead to comb her windblown fringe clear of her eyes, ‘Sukhbir says it’s going to get worse.’
‘How? Why?’
‘It’s that secret of yours, Vijay. Secrets, secrets!’
‘What secret?’ he asked, squinting.
‘The truth about that awful day three years ago,’ she said. ‘Why couldn’t you tell me, of all people, what Sukhbir did? Don’t you think I would’ve understood?’
‘I was instructed to tell no one, so I told no one. A failing school didn’t need another disaster. Elections, politics. Yes, so I told no one.’
‘But not even me? Don’t you think it would’ve made all the difference?’
‘Don’t you think it would’ve just destroyed us?’
‘It’s done that anyway, only in slow motion.’ A tear dribbled from the corner of her right eye, but she swiftly wiped it away. ‘No more of these secrets, Vijay. No more.’ She hoped she would hear a promise but found his lips sealed. ‘Have I been too hard on Satya?’
‘No, but I’ve been too soft,’ he replied. ‘Wait until she gets home.’
Her hand landing on his arm, his wife shook her head at him.
‘I’d hold your horses, Vijay,’ she told him, ‘Sukhbir’s changed his tune. Now he says there’s nothing going on between Satya and the boy at all. After yesterday, I don’t know how that can be, but Sukhbir now says he got it all wrong. He insists they’re not courting. He’s adamant.’
‘Sukhbir’s playing a game. He has a guilty conscience. He’s trying to make amends.’
‘Too late,’ she declared hastily, ‘Like I said: the school called. Satya’s been suspended.’
‘What?’ he coughed, staring at her incredulously. ‘And you’re just telling me this now?’
Her gaze cast back out across the murky water once more, Mrs Singh mulled over her tense conversation with her son an hour ago. ‘Sukhbir came home asking what are the chances of her returning to her old school,’ she muttered, ‘He wanted to know if you have the money now? He thinks she needs a fresh start. He said she needs to get away from that place, to put it behind her.’
‘I’m confused.’
‘I can’t get a straight answer out of anyone. All the school will say is there was a serious incident today. And all Sukhbir says is she made a fool of herself.’
‘That’s called being a teenager. Making a fool of yourself is expected.’
‘Not like this, apparently. She told Sukhbir she wished she was dead,’ she said nervously, unsure of what it meant. ‘After today, he doesn’t see how she can go back.’
‘Satya’s been acting out of character since September,’ complained Mr Singh. ‘What was it? A cry for help?’
‘She’s been acting out of character because Sukhbir made her life hell. But it’s beyond all that now; it’s gone too far. We need to find her another school. And fast.’
‘Well we can’t afford to send her back to her old school. We still can’t afford it. I have a mountain of debts to repay. It would wipe us out.’
Learning forward, she gazed into her husband’s eyes. ‘So you don’t need to,’ she told him delicately, ‘I’ve spoken to my sister. She’s making enquiries for us now. There may be a place for her at Andeep’s college.’
‘But where’s that?’ choked her husband, his eyes penetrating hers. ‘That’s down south, isn’t it? In London?’
‘Yes, west London,’ she replied, nodding. ‘My sister says she’ll be welcome to stay with them. It’s all family. We’d do the same. Wouldn’t we?’
‘We’re not sending her away,’ he spluttered.
‘Why not?’ she asked, her voice nearly a whisper, managing an attentive smile, ‘It answers all our problems. How do we deal with Satya? How do we keep her and Sukhbir apart? It’s the best solution all round.’ She glanced at her husband affectionately, recalling happier days. ‘Neither of us wants to wallop her, Vijay, but we have to do something. I think it’ll be for the best. It’ll prepare her for university. She’ll get used to being away from home. It will do her good.’
Sitting there, they watched as a white sailing boat with its masts folded away wisped past them, its tiny engine carrying it the last part of its journey home.
‘When will your sister be ready for her?’ he murmured.
‘Assuming there’s a place for her at the college, I told her we’d send her on Sunday.’
‘That’s too soon,’ he complained, ‘We should wait until the Easter break at least.’
‘It’s for the best, Vijay. She said that’s fine. She’ll enrol Satya in college on Monday.’ Sliding even closer to her husband, she pressed her thigh against his and squeezed his hand in hers. ‘I’m sorry for all the things I said last night,’ she whispered, dropping her chin onto his shoulder.
‘Don’t be,’ he replied, ‘You were right.’
‘Don’t be sad,’ she said almost silently, ‘It’ll just be for a few months. If Sukhbir gets into university, we’ll have her back. It’s just for now. We’ll get through this, Vijay. If we can just get through this evening, everything will be fine.’
Her husband had no idea how that could be true, but he did not respond. He gazed high up into the sky above them instead, mournful that all of his dreams had coming crashing down to earth all at once. His pride and joy, in which he had invested long hours, hard graft, and his own money for a decade, now laid in the hands of a family that had rudely bossed him around this morning, writing him off as just another poor immigrant who had to be shown his place. His dreams of boasting that his daughter had gone to Cambridge now seemed like a pipe-dream too; he had failed her completely, he imagined. Perhaps she would amount to nothing at all, he lamented, following in her brother’s footsteps. If only he had been more like his own brother, he muttered to himself, and not dropped out of school at sixteen to chase after the girl of his dreams. If only he had opted for a profession like him, and moved to the midlands too, to run other people’s accounts through his spreadsheets and advise on their tax affairs. All of a sudden, he felt like an utter failure. Soon his business would be dismembered by a racist millionaire, and his brother-in-law would supplant him as proud dad. Perhaps he was destined only to be the father of the neighbourhood bully all puffed up with pride, he grumbled within, who had caused him to spend a night in a police cell three years ago to be reminded who he was and all he would ever be. Yes, he reckoned sullenly, a heavy depression descending on him, all of his dreams were now dead.
‘If only we didn’t have children to attend to,’ he muttered almost a quarter of an hour later, cherishing her embrace, ‘I’d stay here all evening. Do you remember when we used to come down here to watch the setting sun?’
‘How could I forget? It’s still our special place.’
‘I should bring you here sometime,’ he said. ‘For old time’s sake,’ he added. Life had seemed so much simpler back then, before all the years had seemed to merge into one, vanishing from them in an instant. ‘Yes, my dreams are all in tatters,’ he admitted, his head swaying backwards and forwards. ‘But at least I still have you.’
