Love Hurts, Page 9

  His family wasn’t really talking to him. He’d returned from Parvy’s flat angry and sullen and had told his dad to fuck off. His dad had reacted with measured calm, not slapping him or swearing back – just walking away, shaking his head. That had been three days ago and since then only his mum had tried speaking to him, in vain. Sukh wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone. Not his parents, nor Parvy and definitely not his mates. Jaspal had sent him loads of messages and rung three times each day but Sukh had ignored him. He couldn’t think of anything but Rani. He wasn’t hungry, he couldn’t sleep. He didn’t care what time it was. He just wanted Rani to call or send him a text to say that he should meet up with her. Hold her hand. Make her laugh. Like it was before he’d taken her to meet Parvy and ruined it all. Like it was before . . .

  The mobile bleeped three times in quick succession and Sukh’s heart jumped into his mouth. He grabbed the thing and pressed the READ NEW MESSAGE button. His heart went back to where it had come from. Jaspal. Sukh deleted the message without reading it and threw the phone back down on the bed. The CD finished and he leaned over to where the player sat and started it again, the thump of the bass not getting him going like it usually did. He got up off his bed and paced his room, usually so tidy but looking now like someone had played a bhangra gig in it. He paced for about five minutes, all the while looking at his mobile and turning it round in his hand as the signal light flashed on. And off. And on. And then he sat back down.

  Ten minutes passed as Sukh sat and stared at the wall, then he picked up his phone again and scrolled through the menu to WRITE MESSAGE. He looked at the small screen for a moment and then began to type in another message.

  PLS LET ME NO THAT U R OK. CALL ME

  PLS. LOV U.

  For the next twenty minutes Sukh went through the same routine, sitting on his bed, pacing his room and thinking about Rani. The signal light flashed on and off but there were no bleeps from his phone. He tried again.

  PLS CAL ME. I LOV U. JUST WANNA TALK.

  CANT SLEEP. PLS RANI.

  When he realized that Rani wasn’t going to reply, no matter how many times he sent her messages, Sukh got angry and threw his phone on the floor, grabbed his jacket and stormed out of his bedroom, downstairs and into the street, not knowing where he was going . . .

  Rani

  ‘Just call him.’

  Nearly a week after I’d run out of Parvy’s flat I was watching the rain fall outside my bedroom window, holding my mobile to my ear and trying to listen to Natalie.

  I hadn’t spoken to or seen Sukh for all that time and it was killing me. But I didn’t know how to sort out the mess that I had created when I ran away. When I had sent him that text, telling him that I didn’t want to talk to him, I had been angry, upset. I hadn’t meant never again . . .

  And now I didn’t know if he would want to talk to me. I hadn’t had any messages in the last couple of days. What if he was angry? What if he wanted to drop me? And what was I supposed to say? Hey Sukh, sorry for being so rubbish but I’m back now and I’m OK about it all . . .?

  ‘Are you listening to me?’ asked Nat.

  ‘Yeah I’m listening,’ I told her.

  ‘You’ve got to hear me too, babe,’ she replied, sounding a bit exasperated.

  ‘I’m sorry, Nat.’

  ‘That’s what you need to tell Sukh too,’ she said.

  ‘He’ll just tell me to get lost.’

  ‘No he won’t.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Let me think . . .’ she began.

  ‘I didn’t reply to any of his messages, Nat, and now he’s stopped sending them. He’ll probably drop me like a stone . . .’

  She sighed for about the tenth time since I’d called her. ‘Look – do you love him?’ she asked.

  ‘More than anything . . .’

  ‘And you’re OK with this whole feud thing?’

  I grinned despite myself. ‘It is a bit Bollywood—’ I began, but Nat cut me off.

  ‘Answer the question, minx.’

  ‘Yes – I’m fine now. I just wanted to think about things – that’s all . . .’

  ‘And he’s sent you what – thirty-odd messages?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘So call him, apologize for being crap and meet him somewhere, for God’s sake.’

  ‘But what if—?’

  ‘That’s it – I’m going. You’re doing my head in now . . .’

  ‘I’m sorry, Nat . . .’ Just what I needed. My best friend getting pissed off with me too.

  ‘Look – you haven’t got time for this shit. We’ve all got GCSEs coming up. The last thing—’

  ‘I don’t know what to say,’ I admitted, tears suddenly appearing.

  ‘Don’t cry, honey . . .’

  ‘But, Nat – he’s going to hate me now.’

  ‘Right, sod this. Get your little ass over here,’ she demanded.

  I thought about having to make up a reason to go out for my parents. ‘I dunno if—’

  ‘Rani – we’re going to revise together, not have a sex-and-drugs-and-naughty-things party . . .’

  ‘Let me ask – I’ll call you back.’

  Nat didn’t reply straight away.

  ‘Nat? You still there . . .?’

  ‘Tell you what,’ she replied. ‘Leave it for a couple of hours. Come round about five.’

  ‘But you said to—’

  ‘I’ve got a plan, Stan,’ she said.

  ‘Nat?’

  But the line was dead.

  I went downstairs about an hour later, after trying to concentrate on maths homework without success. My dad was in the living room, snoozing, and my mum was out in the jungle-like conservatory, watering her zillion and one plants. She heard me approach and turned to me.

  ‘What do you want?’ she asked in Punjabi.

  ‘What makes you think that I want anything?’ I said, pretending to be offended.

  ‘Rani – you have on that face. Every time you want something you look like that.’

  ‘I’m sorry for being alive,’ I replied flippantly.

  ‘Shut up! You never talk like that . . .’ she told me.

  ‘I just wanted to go over to my friend’s to revise for my exams,’ I said, waiting for her to say no.

  ‘Rebise?’ said my dad from behind us. He’d obviously woken up. And still not learned how to pronounce ‘v’s correctly, something lots of older Punjabis couldn’t do.

  ‘I want to go and revise at my friend’s house,’ I repeated.

  ‘When?’ he asked me, totally ignoring my mum’s part in the conversation.

  ‘Five o’clock,’ I said. ‘I’ll be back by nine—’

  ‘Nine?’ he replied, going off the idea.

  ‘Dad – it’s only four hours . . . and Gurdip can pick me up later.’

  The mention of my brother sealed the deal and my dad told me I could go, as long as I didn’t turn off my mobile and only if I was really going to ‘rebise’ and not mess about.

  ‘Dad, I’ve got my GCSEs in under five months. I want to do well . . .’ So I can get out of here, I thought to myself.

  ‘OK – beteh – you going,’ he replied, in English this time. ‘Ju calling Gurdip at the half-eight, telling him where to picking you up.’

  ‘Thanks, Dad,’ I said, before going back upstairs to ring Natalie.

  Natalie & Sukh

  Natalie stood outside Sukh’s parents’ house, wondering how much money it would take to buy such a big place. It was a mock-Tudor mansion with a double garage and long driveway. The iron gates at the front had a Sikh symbol as part of the overall design and the word BAINS. Very tasteful. She rang the bell again and then turned to admire the pebble driveway, sectioned off in three colours, white, brick-red and green. The borders were immaculate, with purple and green shrubs. Not a weed in sight. No one answered the door but from somewhere she could hear the beat of an R & B tune. She rang once again, wondering where everybody was and whether Sukh would
get into trouble because a white girl was calling for him. It had been known to happen. In fact she had never even been round to her boyfriend Dev’s house. Didn’t know what it looked like or what his parents were like. She smiled as she remembered Dev telling her that it was an ‘Indian’ thing. She rang one more time.

  Finally, deciding that no one was going to come to the door, Natalie walked round the side of the garages to a smaller gateway, through which she could see a landscaped garden. She debated whether or not she should try the gate, walk down the side of the house and try to get someone’s attention. Someone was definitely in because they were playing a crappy tune by some generic R & B artist. By the time she had finished debating with herself, all of thirty seconds later, she was already standing underneath a veranda-style balcony at the back of the house, framed at the sides by ivy-covered trellises, the leaves a deep shade of green. Above her, the window furthest to her left was open, the source of the music. She called out to Sukh but got no reply.

  Turning to face the garden, she saw a patio area made up of white pebbles and walked over to pick up a handful. From beneath the window she gently threw a pebble up. It hit the wall to the side, not really having the desired effect. She tried again, this time hitting the window with a slight tap. The third pebble flew in through the opening and announced her presence. Someone was in. Someone shouted a few very naughty words . . .

  Sukh stuck his head out of the window, after turning his CD off, ready to shout at the idiot throwing pebbles, or to call the police if it was a burglar. As if he didn’t have enough to deal with, he thought to himself. Down below him he saw Natalie and once the initial shock was gone, his stomach turned over. Rani. It had to be about Rani . . .

  ‘Natalie! What the fuck . . .?’

  ‘But, soft!’ she began, a big smile cracking across her face, ‘what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east and Sukhy boy, my son!’

  ‘NAT! What—?’

  ‘Sukhio! O Sukhio! Wherefore art thou Sukhio? Deny thy father and . . .’

  Sukh groaned and considered finding the pebble that Nat had chucked through the window so that he could fling it at her stupid head. He couldn’t see where it had landed. Instead he turned to Natalie again. ‘What do you want, Natalie?’

  Nat grinned up at him. ‘So much for bloody romance!’ she said. ‘I’m here to see you. You lettin’ me in or what?’

  ‘What do you wanna see me about?’

  ‘Doh! Whaddya think, sexy boy?’

  Sukh groaned again and told her to go round to the front of the house. ‘I’ll be down in a minute.’

  Natalie waited, as patiently as someone with her itchy feet could manage, for Sukh to open the door to her. When he eventually did she let him have another sickeningly sweet smile and asked him what had taken him so long.

  ‘Nothing,’ replied Sukh sullenly.

  ‘Putting your trousers back on?’ asked Nat, annoyingly.

  ‘Look . . . what is it that you want, man?’

  ‘Our mutual love is coming round to mine at five and I want you to be there,’ said Natalie seriously.

  ‘Why?’ asked Sukh, trying to sound cool but spitting out his reply just a bit too quickly.

  ‘Why do you think . . .?’

  Sukh looked away as he spoke, still trying to seem cool. ‘She wants to see me she should reply to my messages an’ that . . .’

  ‘She feels stupid,’ replied Natalie, unmoved by Sukh’s attempted nonchalance, ‘and, to be fair, she should.’

  ‘What if I don’t wanna see her?’ asked Sukh.

  ‘What if I just bang both your heads together?’ said Natalie, meaning it.

  ‘What if you just mind your own—?’

  ‘Look – I don’t have to be here,’ Natalie reminded him. ‘You want to carry on sitting around in your boxer shorts, listening to shite music and sending fifty messages an hour, that’s your prerogative. Me, I’m just trying to help – so if you’re gonna be all wankyboy about it . . .’

  Sukh looked at her and then smiled for the first time in a week. ‘I’m sorry,’ he told her. ‘I really do want to see her.’

  ‘Thought as much,’ said Natalie, taking his hand. ‘Are you OK?’

  Sukh took his hand away, regretting it instantly, and then looked to the floor. ‘Yeah . . . No – I’m just . . .’ He didn’t really know what he was, apart from being just a little excited at the thought of seeing Rani. Excited and nervous too.

  Natalie smiled warmly at him.

  ‘Come in for a bit,’ he said. ‘I need to have a shower.’

  ‘Are you sure? Wouldn’t wanna get into trouble with Mummy and Daddy Bains.’

  ‘Stop being such a dickhead, Nat, and wait in the lounge,’ he replied.

  ‘Only thinking of your needs, Sukhy, my boy . . .’

  ‘Shut up, Nat.’

  Sukh showed Natalie into the living room, told her not to break anything and to get herself a drink if she wanted one, before heading up for a shower. Nat thanked him, sat down on a deep, aubergine-coloured leather sofa and waited.

  FROM

  YOU AGAINST ME

  BY

  JENNY DOWNHAM

  Ellie

  Ellie opened the door of the Queen’s Head slowly and was immediately hit by the warm stink of food and beer. She felt primitive coming in from the mist, as if she was a wild girl and warmth and shelter meant little to her. She was a girl who invited boys to graveyards and dared them to jump in rivers. She was a girl who boldly entered the information office and demanded to know where every pub in the vicinity of the harbour was. The man had even let her borrow his pen so that she could mark them on the map with red ink.

  If he was in here, she would shimmy up behind him, her hand on her hip like the world owed her something, and she’d fix her eyes on him until he felt an irresistible pull at his heart. She’d make him turn round simply by looking at his back.

  The woman behind the bar frowned as Ellie approached. She was wearing a name badge that said SUE, MANAGER.

  ‘I can’t serve you without ID,’ she said.

  ‘It’s OK, I don’t want a drink. I’m looking for someone who might work here. A boy.’

  The woman laughed. ‘Are you now? Well, only two lads work for me – Mikey or Jacko. Which one are you after?’

  She knew it wasn’t Jacko, because he was the boy in the car the other day. Ellie found herself grinning.

  ‘It’s Mikey I want.’

  ‘I thought you might say that.’ The woman pointed beyond the bar to a carpeted dining area. ‘There he is, right at the back.’

  He was standing at a table with a group of elderly women smiling up at him. He looked solid and confident, entirely unlike any boy at school. Adrenalin flooded her body as she watched him.

  ‘He the one?’

  ‘Yes, that’s him.’

  The woman tutted. ‘Bringing his love life to work again, is he? I’ll be having words with Mister McKenzie.’

  ‘McKenzie?’

  ‘Yes, love, and if you’re his new girlfriend you can wait till he’s on his lunch break, which will be in precisely five minutes. And since you’re very evidently not eighteen, could you please step away from the bar.’

  Mikey McKenzie? But that meant . . .

  The name affected her physically. She felt lightheaded and nauseous.

  ‘Take a seat in the family lounge, please, and I’ll tell him you’re here.’

  She lurched to the seats the woman pointed to and sat down. She wanted to get to the door, to get away, but if she moved that far, something might break. Nobody took any notice of her – the customers in the other seats were chatting to each other, or staring blankly at the TV screen. Her world had shifted and nobody knew it but her.

  The manager came back. ‘He’s on his way, and you can tell him from me that if he spends one minute longer than his regulation half-hour with you, he can consider himself sacked.’

  She smiled to show she didn’t really mean it, but E
llie didn’t smile back. She couldn’t. She could barely breathe.

  He came over slowly, with a strange reluctant walk. He said, ‘What are you doing here?’

  She squinted at him, as if the mist was in the bar, as if she’d brought it in with her. She could see the resemblance now – the same dark hair and eyes. Why hadn’t she seen it before? It was all so obvious and terrible – he was Karyn McKenzie’s brother.

  He sat down, frowning. ‘How did you know where I worked?’

  ‘You said a pub by the harbour.’

  ‘I didn’t say which one.’

  ‘Well, I was just passing this one and thought I’d check it out.’

  ‘Just passing?’

  She felt such an idiot. She’d been out in the mist and got hold of some stupid fantasy that he’d be pleased to see her, that she meant something to him. Her face was burning with shame as she stood up. ‘You know what? I’m going to go.’

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  He shook his head. ‘Something is.’

  How could he read her better than anyone she knew? Better than her own brother?

  ‘I’m fine. I had an argument with someone, that’s all.’

  ‘You want to talk about it?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘I’m a good listener.’

  Her heart lurched. That was sweet. Maybe he didn’t know who she was after all. Maybe it was all some amazing coincidence that meant they were destined to be together for ever.

  But then she noticed his name badge. ‘So, you’re called Tyler?’

  He looked down at himself and frowned. ‘It’s not my real name.’

  Tom said Karyn McKenzie was a liar. Obviously the whole family was, since everything about this boy was fake. He’d targeted the party, rather than stumbled across it, he’d deliberately chatted her up because he knew who she was. Even now, as he looked her up and down, his eyes warm and flirtatious, it was only an act.