The Year of the Runaways Read Online Free Page A

bhanchod chamaars are coming to England.’
    ‘Who cares?’ Avtar said.
    ‘Only backward people care,’ Randeep said, but Gurpreet was still laughing away to himself and then John limped up and said they better get a move on.
    ‘Do you think he’s got a visa?’ Randeep asked, when they started up again.
    Avtar looked at him. ‘When did you last meet a rich chamaar?’
    ‘His parents might have helped him.’
    ‘Janaab, don’t go asking him about his parents. He’s probably an orphan.’
    That evening Gurpreet knocked on their bedroom door and said he and a few of the others were going out, so Randeep and Tochi would have to help with the milk run. ‘You’ve got Tesco.’
    ‘Where are you going?’ Randeep asked and Gurpreet made a fist and pumped it down by his crotch.
    ‘And stop buying those bhanchod cloves and whatnot. We don’t have money to waste, little prince.’
    Randeep waited until he heard him on the stairs, out of earshot. ‘He’s that ugly he has to pay for it.’
    Tochi was threading his belt around himself. The swish of it sliced the air. ‘You’ll have to do it yourself.’
    ‘I can’t carry all that milk. Do you know how far it is? Can’t you help me?’
    ‘Join one of the others.’
    ‘But we can’t all go to the same place. The gora gets suspicious.’
    Tochi said nothing.
    ‘I respect you, bhaji,’ Randeep said. ‘Can’t you help me?’
    On Ecclesall Road the roadworks still hadn’t finished and the street was all headlights and banked-up snow. Randeep pulled his woolly hat lower over his ears and marched through. Tarlochan only had on his jeans and a shirt which kept belling in the wind. His jeans had no pockets, as if they’d been torn, and his hands looked raw-white with cold, like the claws of some sea creature.
    ‘Next time I will insist you borrow my gloves,’ Randeep said. ‘You can have them. I have two pairs.’
    As they passed the turn-off for the Botanical Gardens, Randeep pointed. ‘That’s where Avtar bhaji’s second job is. Through the gardens and carry on straight.’
    ‘Whose garden is it?’
    ‘No one’s. Everyone’s. Maybe the government’s. But they’re pretty. I always think it’s like we have the city, then the gardens, then the countryside.’ He nodded towards the hills, made smoothly charcoal by the night. ‘Shall we go there one day? To the countryside?’
    ‘How many apneh work with your friend?’
    Privately, Randeep felt ‘apneh’ was perhaps a little too far, given their background. ‘A few, but no one else from the house. You looking for a second job too?’
    He didn’t say anything. Instead he turned sharp left down a road, his head bent low. Randeep yelled his name, then ran to catch up.
    ‘Police,’ Tochi said, still walking.
    Randeep turned round and saw the blue lights revolving by. ‘No visa, then.’
    ‘I guess not.’
    ‘How did you get here? Ship or truck?’
    ‘On your mother’s cunt.’
    Randeep stared glumly into a dark coffee-shop window. It didn’t seem to matter how hard he tried.
    ‘Sorry,’ Tochi said. He looked annoyed with himself.
    ‘I’m on a marriage visa.’ Randeep expected a reaction but got none. ‘I got married,’ he went on, aware he was starting to blather. ‘To a girl. She came over to Panjab. From London. But she’s here now. In Sheffield, I mean.’
    ‘So why not live with her?’
    ‘She’s Sikhni. But I’m not that bothered, if I’m honest with you, bhaji. I’m going to take some clothes over soon but that’s it. It’s just one year, get my stamp, pay her the money, get the divorce, then bring my parents and sisters over. It’s all agreed with Narinderji.’ And he wished he’d not said her name. He felt like he’d revealed something of himself.
    They bought milk, flour, bread, potatoes and toilet roll and went back to the house. Others were returning with their milk and shopping too, and it all got piled into the fridge, done for another week.
    *
    Randeep took a step