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it?’
    â€˜I’ll have to take S-levels as well. It’s competitive.’ Murad’s voice is soft, as though he doesn’t want anyone to hear him talking about competing.
    The two years of brain-grinding drudgery required to take A-levels are bad enough. How will Murad handle scholarship exams?
    He clears his throat. ‘You want to take S-levels?’
    â€˜Three A-levels and two S-levels.’
    Arjun coughs, sips his tea. ‘Murad, I have always said that you are a highly intelligent boy.’
    He ignores the lifting shoulder as Murad body-blocks the words.
    â€˜I believe you can do this A-levels and S-levels.’ Arjun feels his language cracking apart under the strain. ‘Very hard work, but you can do it, isn’t it?’ He sounds like Sunila. He clears his throat. ‘What I am saying is that we are behind you all the way.’
    â€˜Mr Randall runs a study group. After school. He’s coaching the S-level boys.’ Murad is breathless with imparting so much personal information. ‘He says he wants me to take S-level biology and chemistry. He says I can pass.’
    Arjun suppresses a smile of sheer pleasure at his son’s pride, at the acknowledgement of the teacher and the boy’s excitement over whatever this biochemistry may be.
    â€˜Of course.’ Arjun empties his cup. ‘Of course you should take them. And of course you will pass.’
    â€˜Hullo.’ Sadiq is back. ‘Can we have another cake, Uncle?’
    Arjun’s son. Going to university. ‘Go and choose the one you want.’ He lifts his chin at Murad. ‘You too, son.’ He hands over a pound note.
    â€˜Thanks, Dad.’ Murad half-smiles.
    Arjun feels his chest grow with pride. A-levels and S-levels. Murad will be eighteen by the time he takes these exams. It’s all happening so quickly. He can report to Sunila that her silent son is going to an English university.
    He glances at his watch. There will be enough time to have fish and chips on the way to Haseena’s house. The boys come back and Murad gives Arjun the change. Murad tells Sadiq a joke and Sadiq hiccups with laughter. Arjun sits back, undoes the top button on his coat. It’s suddenly warmer.
    They head back through the village, the boys wandering ahead. Arjun wonders if Murad sees a carthorse pulling a plough, a cricket game, a windmill with sails gently turning, Argue & Twist Solicitors, Ivan Huven – Baker, a young boy in a red shirt running away from a bull with a lowered head.
    They stop over the last narrow bridge as a steam train puffs underneath. Murad crouches as the train stops at the station. Arjun admires the way he straightens up in one effortless move, laughs at something Sadiq says and walks on towards the exit.
    The small train puffs more steam, emits a squeaky toot and trundles unevenly away across a field where four plastic ducks bob unconvincingly on a pond with a life-size leaf floating near the edge. Arjun waits while the last carriage finally disappears into a tunnel and turns to follow his son.

‌ 5
‌ Inheriting the Gene Flaw
January 1970
    â€˜Put on something warmer. And not black. You’re too young to wear black. Pick a nice colour. Pink or something.’ Arjun watches his daughter stamp upstairs to change out of her black corduroys and black sweater. Tarani was never an easy child, but that’s nothing compared to how she is at thirteen. She hates the phrase ‘earliteen’. She hates anything he says to her.
    He calls up the stairs. ‘And don’t be long. We’re leaving in five minutes.’
    Sunila and Murad have gone to Pavi’s and he is to take Tarani with him to visit Haseena. The children have been fighting again. Murad, sixteen, mocks Tarani’s skinny, childish frame and the desperate way she counts the few hairs in her armpits. He wants to tell Murad, Let her be . But Murad has a new, fierce armour that repels