Dani’s Diary

by Narinder Dhami

Then, at last, we were stepping out into the snow! The air outside was colder than cold, even more freezing than when we’d first arrived in England. Hardeep dashed off ahead of me, squealing with delight as he tramped along the snowy path, his shoes leaving footprints on the thick white surface. I followed him, but more slowly. I wanted to remember how this felt for ever.

  I took off my gloves, hoping Mum wasn’t watching us through the window, and cautiously scooped up a small handful of snow. It was cold! But a lovely, brilliant kind of cold that made my skin glow. I squeezed my fingers together and was fascinated to see that the snow formed itself into a ball. But when I poked at it, it all fell apart again into tiny, shining crystals.

  A bit later on, Hardeep’s new friend Manjit, who lives further down the road, came over to play. When I first saw Manny, I was quite surprised to see that he didn’t have a topknot like Hardeep. But Manny said a lot of the Sikh boys at his primary school didn’t have long hair either. I could see Hardeep looking interested.

  ‘I want mine cut off too,’ he said stubbornly. ‘If Dad has, why can’t I?’

  But so far Mum was having none of it.

  Manny began showing Hardeep how to build a snowman, but I was happy just to wander around the garden, occasionally looking back with satisfaction at the trail of footprints behind me. My feet, my fingers and my nose were freezing into ice but I didn’t care. Snow was one of the very best things about England, I thought.

  There were good and bad things, and I was still finding out what they were. The flat was so small. We were always getting under each other’s feet and Mum kept telling us off for being in the way – but there was nowhere else to go! I didn’t realize, until we left India, how much freedom Hardeep and I had had. We would roam around in the fields all day from dawn to dusk, and no one worried about us or wanted to know where we were. Here in England we aren’t allowed out on our own, except in the garden. Mum doesn’t speak any English so I have to go shopping with her and ask for the things we need. It’s a weird feeling. It’s as if I’m the grown-up and she’s the child.

  And just imagine, there are poor people here in England! I thought everyone was rich, but the other day, when we were out shopping with Mum, I saw a man in ragged clothes looking through a dustbin for something to eat. Then, as we walked on down the street, there was a man and a woman standing by the bus stop and they were kissing. Right there in front of everyone! Mum went bright pink. She put one hand over Hardeep’s eyes and grabbed my arm with the other, hurrying us past. The man and woman were so busy kissing, they didn’t even notice. Things are so different here!

  A wonderful thing about England is Christmas! It was just a few days ago, and suddenly all the coldness and greyness was full of Christmas trees and bright lights sparkling in people’s front windows. We didn’t have a tree or lights or anything, although Dad had a day off work and Mum cooked a special meal. Dad told us the Christmas story and promised that he’d take us to visit an English church sometime. Mum clicked her tongue at that, but if Dad says it’s OK, then it’s OK!

  And another good thing about England is Milly. I’ve never met anyone like Milly before—

  ‘Oh!’

  I jumped backwards as something white whizzed past my right ear, just missing my plait. Across the garden Hardeep and Manny were bent over double, laughing so hard they were almost choking.

  ‘What was that?’ I called crossly.

  ‘Snow!’ Hardeep chuckled naughtily. ‘Manny taught me how to make snowballs!’

  ‘Snowballs?’ I looked with alarm at the two boys, who were now rolling more lumps of snow between their gloved hands.

  ‘Look out, Asha!’ Hardeep shouted, pulling his arm back.

  Splat!

  Suddenly a snowball from behind me flew straight towards Hardeep and hit him in the middle of the chest, just as if he’d had a target painted on it! As he spluttered and gasped and brushed the snow from his coat, Milly came up to join me. She was smiling.

  ‘Hello, Asha,’ she said, winking at me.

  I knew that my whole face had lit up with joy because I couldn’t help smiling whenever I saw Milly. I’d only managed to meet her a handful of times over the last few weeks, usually for quick chats in the garden while Dad was at work and Mum was busy in the flat. It was always a magical moment when she turned up unexpectedly. She made me laugh, and yet there was something secretive and mysterious about her …

  Hardeep was scowling horribly. ‘You’re not supposed to be friends with her, Asha,’ he muttered. ‘I’m going to tell Dad!’

  ‘No, you’re not,’ Milly said quickly, wading through the snow towards him, ‘because if you do, I’m not going to give you this penny I’ve got in my pocket.’

  ‘A penny!’ Hardeep’s eyes lit up greedily. I knew he was imagining the sweets he could buy from the corner shop. But all I could think about was where Milly had got the money. And I was too afraid to ask …

  Milly handed over the penny and then came back to me, looking pleased with herself. We moved quickly behind a clump of trees. I’d already checked that anyone looking from our flat windows couldn’t see us if we were standing there. It didn’t really matter now though, because it was getting dark anyway. Soon Mum would wake up from her afternoon nap, open the window and call us in. She didn’t like us being outside in the evening.

  ‘That’ll keep him quiet!’ Milly said. She stared at me with those bright, bright eyes. ‘What have you been doing lately, Asha?’

  ‘Oh, nothing much,’ I said shyly. I always felt a bit shy with Milly. She seemed so alive compared to boring old me. And she knew so much more about England than I did because she’d been living here for the last three years. ‘Studying with Dad. Helping Mum with the cleaning and cooking …’

  I felt my cheeks begin to burn with embarrassment. Cooking. I shouldn’t have said that. Not after what happened yesterday afternoon. I didn’t write about it in my diary last night because I – well, I told myself I didn’t have time. But I think it was because I was too upset …

  What happened yesterday was that Dad, Mum, Hardeep and I went to the gurdwara. It isn’t really a gurdwara at all, it’s just a room in somebody’s house, but Dad says that all the Sikhs are giving money so that we can build a real gurdwara some day. Then we’ll have somewhere proper to go and pray. Well, we got home, climbed the stairs and passed the kitchen on the way to our flat. Only we didn’t pass it. We stopped and stared, and Mum cried out.

  The kitchen was a real mess. There were vegetables lying all over the kitchen counter. They’d been peeled and chopped but the peelings were still lying there and some had fallen to the floor. Packets of red and gold and brown spices had been opened and were scattered across the worktop, leaving sparkly, powdery trails.

  In the middle of the mess was Milly. Plaits flying, a frown of concentration on her thin face, she was scooping up handfuls of vegetable peelings and throwing them into the bin. Suddenly she stopped, looked up, saw us. For a split second I thought I saw a look of dismay cross her face. But then it had gone and she looked defiant instead.

  ‘My spices!’ Mum wailed. She dashed into the kitchen and began grabbing the bags one by one, trying to stop even more of the precious contents drifting out. ‘She’s stolen my spices!’

  My heart plunged even lower than it had already sunk, as we followed Mum into the kitchen. She had brought the spices with us from India because Dad had told her that they were sometimes difficult to find in England. She’d been so careful with them, and now they were spilling everywhere, all over the kitchen.

  ‘This is not acceptable!’ I’d never heard my dad sound so furious before. I knew his dark eyes would be flashing and his mouth would be a thin, angry line, but I couldn’t look at him. My knees shaking, the breath catching in my throat, I stared at Milly instead. She was looking straight at my dad, steadily and calmly. She didn’t seem to be even a little bit scared.

  ‘How dare you steal things which don’t belong to you?’ Dad thundered.
‘I’m going to speak to your parents immediately!’

  ‘No, you can’t,’ said Milly in a clear high voice.

  Hardeep gasped, Mum clutched the edge of the kitchen counter for support and I swear I almost dropped down dead. Kids didn’t speak to grownups like that, ever. Well, not Indian kids, anyway.

  ‘My dad’s not home and my mum’s ill,’ Milly went on. As she spoke, she went over to the doorway and stood there as if she was actually going to prevent us from going upstairs to their flat. ‘She’s got a bad cold and she’s in bed. I’m sorry about the spices.’ And with that, she turned and marched off up to the third floor.

  Remembering all this today, now we were out in the snowy garden together, made me feel quite sick. And yet I couldn’t help feeling a secret admiration for Milly – she’d stood up to my dad, for goodness’ sake! But Dad had been so angry, he hadn’t stopped going on about it all evening. He’d waited on the landing for Milly’s dad to come home and then they’d had an argument. Mr Chaudhary, a thin, jumpy man who always seemed to look nervous, had said he didn’t want Milly to play with me either, so now we had all four parents to worry about. Although I’d never even seen Milly’s mum, so I didn’t know what she thought about it all.

  Meanwhile, Milly was staring at me closely and I could feel my cheeks getting even redder.

  ‘I’m sorry about yesterday,’ she said suddenly. ‘Your dad was annoyed, wasn’t he?’

  I nodded.

  ‘I’ll never touch your mum’s spices again,’ said Milly solemnly.

  ‘You won’t be able to,’ I replied. ‘She took them out of the kitchen and locked them up in a suitcase and hid them under her bed.’

  Milly seemed to find this very funny and began to laugh. I smiled too.

  ‘Come and watch TV with me?’ she said suddenly.

  ‘T-TV?’ I stuttered, taken by surprise.

  ‘There’s a really good programme on soon,’ Milly added. ‘It’s called Doctor Who. I watched it last week and I’m dying to see what happens next.’

  ‘Oh.’ I didn’t know what to say. ‘It’s just that—’

  ‘Your dad won’t let you watch TV.’ Milly finished the sentence for me.

  ‘Yes,’ I said weakly. ‘He thinks it’ll interfere with my studying.’

  ‘Well, you’re not studying now, are you?’ Milly pointed out, quite reasonably. ‘Anyway, do you have to do everything your dad says?’

  I stared at her, my eyes almost popping out of my head. ‘He’s my dad.’

  ‘Yes, but that doesn’t mean he’s right about everything, does it?’ Milly put her head on one side, plaits swinging, her dark eyes as bright as a bird’s. ‘Parents don’t always know best.’ There was a strange look on her face and I didn’t know what it meant. ‘Are you coming or not?’

  ‘Yes,’ I blurted out, and then felt almost faint with terror.

  ‘Good.’ Milly winked at me. ‘I’ll see you in a minute.’

  She popped out from behind the tree and stomped off merrily towards the house, kicking at the snowdrifts on the paths as she passed. After a moment or two I followed her, my heart beating so fast I thought it would burst out of my chest. Dad wasn’t due home again until quite late, but still. I felt as if he was somehow watching me and knew that I was disobeying him.

  Milly had already put the television set on when I reached the lounge. Patterns were whirling around on the screen and a strange haunting tune was playing. I’d never heard anything like it before.

  ‘This is it,’ Milly said with satisfaction, plumping herself down on one of the saggy old chairs. She began pulling off her boots. ‘Look, Asha, that’s Doctor Who, the old man with the white hair.’

  I stared at the TV as I backed my way over to the other chair. The picture was flickering and not very clear, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the screen. Even if Dad himself had come in at that moment, I don’t think I would have cared. Well, not much, anyway.

  ‘That’s the Doctor’s granddaughter, Susan, and she’s got two teachers, Ian and Barbara.’ Milly was gabbling away, giving me reams of information. ‘They’ve all travelled to this planet named Skaro in that funny blue box. It’s called the Tardis.’

  I stared at her. ‘Planet? You mean they’re in outer space?’

  Milly nodded. ‘Don’t look so shocked,’ she laughed. ‘It’s only a story. It’s not real.’

  But I couldn’t help it. It seemed real to me! I hung on every word the silvery-haired Doctor and all the other characters said, even though I couldn’t understand even half of it. My eyes were glued to the screen. And then – oh no! Something terrible happened!

  ‘Milly!’ I jumped in my chair, feeling my heart begin to race. ‘What’s that?’

  Suddenly the television screen was filled with horrible, round, metal monsters with no faces, waving arms and harsh, croaking voices. I was so scared, I pulled my knees up and hid my face in them.

  ‘Those are the baddies,’ said Milly. ‘Oh no! They’ve just shot Ian!’

  I gasped with horror. ‘Really?’ Cautiously I looked up. ‘Is he all right?’

  Milly grinned at me. ‘He’s fine! I told you, it’s not real, Asha.’

  We watched as the metal monsters captured the Doctor, his granddaughter and Ian and took them to join Barbara, whom they’d already imprisoned. We found out they were called Daleks.

  ‘Do you think there are really Daleks in outer space?’ I asked nervously.

  Milly put her head on one side while she thought about it. ‘Maybe,’ she said at last. ‘But they’re not exactly quick, are they? I bet you’d be able to run away from them pretty easily.’

  ‘Not if they shot me like they shot Ian,’ I pointed out. I took another nervous glance at the screen and shuddered at the sight of the Daleks’ big, heavy metal bodies.

  A noise behind us! I gave a scream of pure terror and leaped up from my chair, so high my head almost touched the ceiling. Someone was standing in the doorway!

  My first feeling was relief that it wasn’t a Dalek. Next, I was relieved that it wasn’t Dad either.

  It was a woman, and she was very beautiful. I stared – I couldn’t help it – at her filmstar good looks and the long fall of black hair that hung loose and floating over her shoulders. She wore a pale pink sari with a chunky white cardigan over the top and her feet were bare. Gold jewellery glittered from her neck, her ears and her wrists – neat rows of bangles, dangling earrings and two or three necklaces of twisted gold. The effect was dazzling.

  ‘Mum!’ Milly almost stumbled and fell as she ran over to her. ‘What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in bed.’

  Her mum blinked her eyes a few times and stared at Milly almost as if she’d never seen her before. I remembered that Mrs Chaudhary was ill, and she did look very pale and sleepy.

  ‘I didn’t know where you were,’ she murmured, her voice so light and soft I could hardly hear the words. Her gaze strayed past Milly to me. ‘Is this Asha?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Saat siri akaal, Auntie,’ I said shyly.

  Milly had hold of her mother’s hand and was trying to pull her out of the room, but Mrs Chaudhary stayed firmly where she was. Her large dark eyes were fixed on me almost fiercely, and I began to feel a bit uncomfortable.

  ‘Do you like it here?’ she demanded.

  ‘What?’ I struggled to understand what she meant. ‘In this house, do you mean?’

  ‘No.’ Mrs Chaudhary shook her head. Her eyes seemed to be burning into mine and I shuffled my feet nervously. ‘England. It’s freezing.’ She pulled the cardigan more closely round her thin body. ‘Every day it gets colder. Even in the summer it’s cold.’ She took a step towards me. Although she was still staring at me, her eyes looked far, far away. ‘Don’t you wish you were back home in the Punjab? I do. Every night when I close my eyes, I dream that I’m back home. And every morning when I wake up and realize that I’m still here, it makes me so sad.’

  ‘Mum, you’re supposed to
be in bed.’ Milly began edging her way out of the door and this time, reluctantly, her mother followed her. ‘I’ll be back in a minute,’ Milly said over her shoulder, and I heard their footsteps going slowly up the stairs.

  I thought about what Milly’s mum had said about wanting to go back to India. I guessed that my own mum felt pretty much the same, although she’d never said so. She’d do whatever Dad wanted. Would I do the same when I was married – let my husband decide everything for me? I frowned. I’d have to think about that one. But Milly wouldn’t! I already knew that!

  We’d missed the end of Doctor Who because of Milly’s mum coming in, and the strange music was starting again now. I wondered if I’d be able to see the next episode. It all depended on whether Dad was at home or not.

  I went to sit down again, hoping Mum hadn’t missed me yet. As I did so, I noticed something lying on Milly’s chair. A small box. A box of matches.

  I picked them up cautiously. Dad had caught Hardeep messing about with a box of matches a few days ago and he’d given him a spanking. He’d told us that matches were extremely dangerous and that children weren’t allowed to play with them. Why would Milly have matches? I was bewildered. Maybe they weren’t hers …

  Footsteps came clattering down the stairs. A moment later Milly came in.

  ‘Are these yours?’ I asked, holding out the matches. I tried not to sound faintly accusing.

  ‘Yes,’ Milly said casually. ‘Thanks.’ She took the matches and slipped them into her pocket, leaving me eaten up with curiosity. Why did she have them? Did her parents know? And what did she do with them? I couldn’t ask.

  ‘Is your mum all right?’

  ‘Of course she is,’ Milly said impatiently. ‘I told you she had a cold. She’s still getting over it. Shall we watch something else on the TV?’

  Of course, that was exactly what I wanted to do. But then – oh no! We heard the big iron gate at the bottom of the path open and then clank shut. I peered out of the window and I saw my dad coming through the snow towards the front door.

  I couldn’t move.

  ‘Who is it?’ Milly asked urgently.