You're Not Proper (14 page)

‘I'm not hungry,
Babaji
,'

‘And if you're worried about your father, I'll phone him right now.'

Baba Khanu picked up a phone and spoke to my Dad. ‘And he said, “As long as you don't charge me.”'

Pushing a plate of kebabs and a can of coke towards me he said, ‘It is so good to see you youngsters turning to Islam.'

‘I didn't know I'd left it,
Babaji
,' I laughed, opening the Coke can. A bit of Coke sprayed onto the window. I took a sip. The fizz, the spice, the meat and the sugar: I was in heaven!

‘I wasn't thinking of you,' Baba Khanu said, settling back again. ‘I was thinking about Ghazanfer's granddaughter.'

Baba Ghazanfer's granddaughter, the name I had heard, but no face fitted it. A few drops of rain crashed against the window. I looked at the raindrops sliding down the glass and tried to work out who she was.

‘You know, Liaqat Malik's Dad,' Baba Khanu said.

I couldn't work out who this was either. Suddenly it started pouring it down.

‘You know, he calls himself “Lucky”. It's so good to see her leaving the church and coming back to our religion.' Baba Khanu said.

I put my hand to my mouth. I nearly choked. Karen's face flashed in front of my eyes.

Oh god, why can't I get away from her, I thought. I stared at Baba Khanu's reflection in the window. He moved slowly, his hands shaking a little. ‘And yes, it's Kiran,' he told me. ‘She won't let anyone call her Karen any more, like she used to.'

I was about to get up to leave, when Baba Khanu said, ‘And Ghazanfer was here only yesterday. He has already been asked for her hand. From that handsome boy, Jani …'

‘What?' I stammered. ‘Jani, my neighbour!'

‘The Almighty works in strange ways indeed,' Baba Khanu said. ‘Ghazanfer and Jani's father are going round to their house tonight.'

I settled back into my seat. I was hungry again. The food looked delicious and the beautiful rain was washing the world clean outside. I couldn't wait to finish my food. I wolfed it down. Karen's marrying Jani – I could see it written on the walls of the covered area at school. I was going to Photoshop her: in her bridal dress, head bowed, a photo of Jake in one hand and in the other, a photo of her, in a headscarf, with a miniskirt, sitting next to her husband, Jani, dripping in his
sehra
of golden tinsels. And isn't the bride-to-be going to love seeing Jake at her door! After squeezing the last drops of Coke out of the can, I thanked Baba Khanu and walked, humming, out into the rain.

The rain poured down the windows of the bus. Shamshad's face formed in the water. I heard the hiss of the doors opening, but was so engrossed in watching Shamshad's face being cut apart that I didn't realise it was my stop.

‘What you planning to do, go all the way to Manchester?' Laila asked, stepping into the bus. She looked at Jake, all puzzled. She looked at me and then back at Jake. I swear Jake blushed, but he turned his face away quickly and looked out of the window.

I grabbed my bag, and asked Jake, ‘Aren't you coming, then?'

‘No,' he said without turning around.

I didn't have time to work out what Jake was up to, and said sorry to the driver and got off the bus.

Before I could say anything to Laila, she went into the bus shelter, stepping around a broken beer bottle, and said, ‘Before you ask, you know who, texted me.'

I laughed, stepping into the shelter. An old lady, with curlers clearly visible under her flowery hat, gave us a
whatyoudoinghere
kind of a look and stepped away from us, swinging her umbrella. I gave her a
whatyougonnadoaboutit
kind of a look back and then blocked her from my mind.

‘It's not what you think,' I said to Laila.

‘About what, Kiran?'

‘You know what?'

‘About me and Jake, there's nothing, so stop thinking what you're thinking.'

‘I
don't
think,' Laila giggled. ‘Cow!' I said.

‘Moo,' she replied We laughed. The old lady tutted, opened her umbrella and stepped out into the rain. ‘What're you doing here, Laila?' I asked, getting out of the shelter and dodging the water dripping down from it.

‘You were awesome in assembly. Awesome!' Laila said. ‘You didn't come to tell me that.'

‘Where did you get it all from?' Laila asked.

‘I don't know,' I said. ‘Maybe, I've just had enough, or it's the meetings you've been taking me to.'

‘Wicked,' Laila said.

‘Lailoo, I got to get home. Mum'll be worried.'

‘I told me Dad. He's going to pick me up from your house later,' Laila said. ‘And you still got the miniskirt?'

I elbowed Laila in the ribs as hard as I could and ran. She ran after me, laughing and cursing. We stopped at the top of White Haven Road, which circled our estate. The road was lined with oak trees. Every now and again, overgrown branches of the trees would crack against the upper decks of buses and tall vans. On the opposite side of the road where I lived, ran the broken railings of East Boarhead Park.

Three boys were kicking a can to each other in the middle of St. George's Street.

The boys stared at us. Laila put her arm in mine. The boys started kicking the can to each other again. I knew them by face, but not by name. A dog barked somewhere close by. One of the boys said something that I didn't quite catch.

Laila squared up to him. He was a short, stocky, grey-haired boy, still in the uniform of St. George's Primary School. He had one foot on the can and both his hands were on his waist. He stepped back and kicked the can at us. It missed us and hit a parked car.

A man swore from one of the houses and the boys scampered. The dog stopped barking.

Laila got a text. ‘It's Jake,' Laila said. ‘Texting you?'

‘Cow!' Laila sniggered.

‘Moo,' I laughed.

Seriously, though,' Laila said, showing me Jake's text.

Kiran's mobile's off,
Jake's text said.

I wrote back on Laila's mobile:
She's home.

Liar,
Jake texted back.

Where RU?
I texted.
Across the road,
Jake wrote. And he was.

Laila waved at him to come over. He did, blushing. Jake looked at us suspiciously, ‘Were you talking about me?' ‘Nah,' Laila answered, and then dug her nails into my shoulders and whispered into my ear, ‘Jake, eh?'

‘I'm not proper like you,' I sniggered into her ear. ‘Remember.' ‘
Khothee
,' Laila said, moving away from me.

I pulled her back and brayed loudly like a donkey.

‘What's that mean?' Jake asked. ‘Donkey,' I said.

‘What does it mean, though?' Jake asked.

Laila and I looked at each other. Jake answered himself, ‘I'm a donkey, then, eh?'

Laila and I laughed.‘Will you help me find our Dex, Laila?'

‘I don't know what happens in my house, how can I help you find Dex in Afghanistan?'

‘Someone must be able to help,' Jake said.

‘Shamshad's Dad knows everyone in East Boarhead, you know,' I said. ‘You should go to her house and ask her Dad.'

Leila stamped on my foot as Jake nodded and walked past us up the street.

It was only a short walk to our house, but we took ages to get there. When we got to the butcher's shop, I waved at Mr Mason, Elizabeth's husband. He's a tall, red-faced man with a big, bulging stomach. He was sharpening a knife and ignored me. Laila pulled a face at the half carcass of a pig dangling in the window. At first, I was puzzled, but then I remembered and did the same.

Pointing to my neighbour, I said, ‘That's George. Sometimes he sits there like a stiff, other times he blasts out music for all the street to hear.'

Our house is in the middle of Willow Bank behind a row of manicured privet hedges, courtesy of George. He made sure the hedges were perfectly squared-off at the top, low enough for him to see out onto the street. No one at home minded, as it was one less job to nag Dad to do.

‘Hi Elizabeth,' I shouted above the noise of George's music, closing the gate after Laila.

Mrs Elizabeth Mason was in her garden, hanging clothes out on the line. She looked across at us and then turned around. Since I put the hijab on, she has stopped smiling at me, which was mostly what she did when we met.

I waved at George, who carried on staring at whatever he was staring at. His dog was sitting in its favourite position, its head on its front paws, its tired eyes focused on its master.

‘Hi Bruno,' I called out to the dog.

The dog lifted its head a little turned it a little towards me, moved its ear slightly and went back to its usual position.

‘Since I put on my headscarf,' I said to Laila as we got inside my house, ‘so many of the neighbours have stopped talking to me.' ‘It's a white thing,' Laila said.

Mum had left me a note on the kitchen table:
Gone to pick some things up for tonight.

Laila went straight for the fridge and took a can of Dad's beer out, touched it to her face and laughed, ‘It happens to us he-ja-bees.'

‘You're not going to have that are you, Laila?'

She looked up at the clock, and said, ‘Don't know. Got some time before Dad comes to pick me up.'

‘He'll smell it on you, stupid.'

‘He won't mind,' Laila said, turning the beer can in her hand. ‘Won't he!' I said, incredulously.

‘Nah. Maybe just kill me,' Laila said putting the can back in the fridge.

We laughed about how, when we got on the buses, Asian women clocked us, and how we checked them back. We nattered about how some white men were scared of us little girls wearing a bit of cloth on our heads and how wonderful it would be to get away from Boarhead, especially during the coming Christmas holidays.

‘I'm going to meet my family in Pakistan this year,' Laila laughed. ‘No
Abbaji
Christmas for me.'

‘Lots of
Abbaji
Christmases for me,' I said. ‘Why don't you come as well?' She asked.

‘Everyone's here,' I said. ‘My Dad never mentions going to Pakistan.' ‘Come with us.' Laila said. ‘No Rudolf…'

‘I'll ask,' I laughed.

We chatted about how Shamshad had been cut down to size. We roared and slapped our legs talking about how Jake thought he could get off with any girl.

Laila's father came too quickly. She had hardly got into the car when Jake texted me:
What u doing now?

Me:
Who wants 2 know?
Jake:
Me
Me:
Who?
Jake:
Jake
He is so simple, I thought.

I texted back:
Busy
Jake:
Old place
Me:
No
Jake:
Plz
Me:
No
Jake:
Plz. Plz
Me:
No

I went to see Jake. I reckoned all he wanted to do was to talk about Dex, and I had to get it into his thick skull that there was nothing I could do to help him. He was waiting for me at the top of our street.

‘I thought you said by the tree,' I said.

Jake was lost deep in thought and we walked quietly up the St. George's towards White Haven Road. Leaves were raining off the trees. There was hardly any traffic on the road. Just then, a red car came towards us. It slowed down as it approached. Someone who looked like Dex was sitting in the front passenger seat. He put his head out of the window and said something. I saw the driver's teeth.

As the car went past us, the Dex look-alike shouted at me, ‘Go back home, you terrorist.'

A boy from the back of the car hurled a can of beer at me. It came flying towards me, leaving a trail of beer behind. It missed me and fell on the ground. Jake picked it up and ran after the car.

‘Jake, stop!'

He kept running. The car slowed down to let another car turn. Jake threw the can at the car. It hit its target and rolled under the wheels of an oncoming bus. ‘It doesn't matter,' I said, when I got close to him.

‘It does,' Jake said.

‘How many are you going to throw that at?' I asked. He ignored my question and we crossed the road. ‘Don't ask about Dex,' I said. ‘I know nothing.'

‘I know,' Jake said.

‘If Dex was held by a Man U fan, then me Dad would probably know who he was,' I said.

‘He might just be,' Jake laughed. I laughed.

‘Man U supporters are everywhere,' Jake said.

We walked in silence to our favourite place. Jake pulled a twig out of the ground and said, twisting it in his fingers, ‘I told him not to sign up for the army, but you know our kid, he's not one for listening. I didn't hear much from him after he went off to Afghanistan, not that I expected him to write anyway. But he never came back from a patrol, that's what I heard. I keep asking around, I know I must sound stupid, but I do and I don't know where Dex is still. Yesterday, some men came to our house. Army men. Dad was his usual, drunk self. I was waiting for the letter. They bring it round. I've seen what it's like. Lots of them have been given out round here. I guess you know that, don't you? But they didn't give me a letter. They said they knew I was going round asking for help to find our Dex, and told me to stay out of things I didn't understand.' Throwing the twig as far as he could, Jake said, ‘What should I do now, Kiran?'

He went quiet for a bit.

‘I didn't know what to say.

He looked at me, and asked, ‘What would you do if you were in my shoes?'

We stood under the willow tree for a while, and then Jake walked me back home. As I was leaving him, I said, ‘Even though I hate Dex, I wish I could help you.'

‘You know Taliban are Man U supporters…'

‘Don't you dare come to my house again,' I said, slamming the door on Jake. I was mad with him. He was like a broken record. I ran upstairs, slumped on the bed and after a little while dozed off.