he would sit on the opposite kerb, and they would look at the others playing. Gehan wandered alone in the playground, too, but he never played with Preethi. She had friends, but if they played Charlie’s Angels, she had to be the baddie, or if it was a fairy tale, she was the witch. Princesses were always blond, forlornly pallid.
Princes had two straight arms. Kiss chase happened between boys called Philip or Stephen and girls called Jackie or Donna. Danny said there was something dirty about kiss chase. Preethi agreed. A boy holding a girl by her shoulders and rubbing his body against her looked like animals in the park. Danny and she talked about birds, of course, and animals: her cat, his desperate longing for a dog.
“But me dad’s going,” he said one day.
“Going where?”
“Nah,
going
. He’s got cancer.”
“Oh. Does that mean …?”
“Yeah.”
“So you can’t have a dog because he’s got cancer?”
“No. I mean, if he goes, then we’ll move out of the flat. We can’t have a dog at the flats.”
“Where will you move?”
“To my grandma’s in Hampstead. She’s got this posh house, but me mum says it’s just ’cos she’s married well.”
She knew he had told her because he felt the smallloss she felt. What had started so recently would soon be over, this sideways talking, these quiet moments in their school day.
She began to walk home with him. Normally she walked by herself, behind Gehan on the main road. Now she walked down the first side hill and along the adjacent main road, stopping at the sweet shop so they could buy Bazooka Joes and pop bubbles until they got to the trees at his flats. She would come with him to see the nest, then say goodbye and walk up her hill home. Once Sofia called out a name, but it was so rude, so disgusting, Preethi could not even understand it fully, and she smiled at her because she did not know what else to do. She always reached home first, despite leaving after Gehan so he wouldn’t see her walking with the mong.
•
The summer holidays came, and where she would go to school in the autumn term was still undecided.
“What’s cancer, really?” she asked Rohan one day. They were eating breakfast together silently. Gehan had gone out early on his chopper, soon after Ammi and Papa had gone to work.
“It’s a disease,” he said, not looking up from his book. “Sometimes people can survive it, if the doctors catch it early enough. But most people die. Why?”
“Oh, nothing.” Preethi watched him reading. “What’s that about?”
“This? Science and stuff. I
am
starting my O levels in a couple of months.”
“I know. But don’t you want to read stories? I mean, if I knew I had to go and study, you know, all that stuff, I’d spend the holidays reading
proper
books.”
He laughed. “Proper books? What—like
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory
or something?”
“Yeah.”
He picked up his book and leafed through: “Says here that Hippocrates named the disease cancer because the conglomeration of cells looked like nesting crabs.”
The thought of it made her feel squeamish. The layers of crustaceans in rows, round like overlapping warts on dirty skin. “Don’t read to me from that book. I don’t want to know about bodies. I’m not like you,” she said angrily.
But he was sunk in, ignoring her, and despite the maths her mother had left her, she walked out of the house, into the sunshine, and sat on the wall. She heard Rohan pad into the sitting room, saw him throw himself down next to the record player. Soon she heard Elvis sing.
She walked down the road to the den. Sometimes Danny wasn’t even there, but she still stayed, hoping, watching the birds fly back and forth from the trees.
•
She fought with both her brothers that summer, Gehan especially.
“It’s your fault we’re not in Sri Lanka,” he said suddenly on a Saturday. Ammi and Papa were marketing in Peckham.
“What do you mean?” Preethi had never
Princes had two straight arms. Kiss chase happened between boys called Philip or Stephen and girls called Jackie or Donna. Danny said there was something dirty about kiss chase. Preethi agreed. A boy holding a girl by her shoulders and rubbing his body against her looked like animals in the park. Danny and she talked about birds, of course, and animals: her cat, his desperate longing for a dog.
“But me dad’s going,” he said one day.
“Going where?”
“Nah,
going
. He’s got cancer.”
“Oh. Does that mean …?”
“Yeah.”
“So you can’t have a dog because he’s got cancer?”
“No. I mean, if he goes, then we’ll move out of the flat. We can’t have a dog at the flats.”
“Where will you move?”
“To my grandma’s in Hampstead. She’s got this posh house, but me mum says it’s just ’cos she’s married well.”
She knew he had told her because he felt the smallloss she felt. What had started so recently would soon be over, this sideways talking, these quiet moments in their school day.
She began to walk home with him. Normally she walked by herself, behind Gehan on the main road. Now she walked down the first side hill and along the adjacent main road, stopping at the sweet shop so they could buy Bazooka Joes and pop bubbles until they got to the trees at his flats. She would come with him to see the nest, then say goodbye and walk up her hill home. Once Sofia called out a name, but it was so rude, so disgusting, Preethi could not even understand it fully, and she smiled at her because she did not know what else to do. She always reached home first, despite leaving after Gehan so he wouldn’t see her walking with the mong.
•
The summer holidays came, and where she would go to school in the autumn term was still undecided.
“What’s cancer, really?” she asked Rohan one day. They were eating breakfast together silently. Gehan had gone out early on his chopper, soon after Ammi and Papa had gone to work.
“It’s a disease,” he said, not looking up from his book. “Sometimes people can survive it, if the doctors catch it early enough. But most people die. Why?”
“Oh, nothing.” Preethi watched him reading. “What’s that about?”
“This? Science and stuff. I
am
starting my O levels in a couple of months.”
“I know. But don’t you want to read stories? I mean, if I knew I had to go and study, you know, all that stuff, I’d spend the holidays reading
proper
books.”
He laughed. “Proper books? What—like
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory
or something?”
“Yeah.”
He picked up his book and leafed through: “Says here that Hippocrates named the disease cancer because the conglomeration of cells looked like nesting crabs.”
The thought of it made her feel squeamish. The layers of crustaceans in rows, round like overlapping warts on dirty skin. “Don’t read to me from that book. I don’t want to know about bodies. I’m not like you,” she said angrily.
But he was sunk in, ignoring her, and despite the maths her mother had left her, she walked out of the house, into the sunshine, and sat on the wall. She heard Rohan pad into the sitting room, saw him throw himself down next to the record player. Soon she heard Elvis sing.
She walked down the road to the den. Sometimes Danny wasn’t even there, but she still stayed, hoping, watching the birds fly back and forth from the trees.
•
She fought with both her brothers that summer, Gehan especially.
“It’s your fault we’re not in Sri Lanka,” he said suddenly on a Saturday. Ammi and Papa were marketing in Peckham.
“What do you mean?” Preethi had never
Similar Books
