The Last Taboo

by Bali Rai

  SIMRAN

  MY PARENTS WERE waiting for me when I got home. As soon as I walked in the door I knew that something was up. Jay saw me come in, rolled his eyes and told me that I was in for it.

  ‘What?’ I asked, still on a high from being with Tyrone.

  ‘You’ll see,’ he said, running off upstairs.

  I went up to my room, hung my coat up and got changed into my pyjamas. When I got back down to the living room, my parents and my brother were sitting in front of the telly, not watching it. I walked in, said hello and sat down next to my dad.

  ‘Have you been hiding something from us?’ asked my mum.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Hiding something. Someone …’

  My heart missed about five beats and then started to pound and I got that sinking feeling in my stomach that you get when you know things are going wrong. How the hell had they found out before I could tell them?

  ‘Er …’

  That was all that came out. My mum glanced at my dad, who turned his head to look at me.

  ‘Someone like a boyfriend maybe?’ he said to me, although he had no need to spell it out. I knew exactly what they were talking about. I just didn’t get how they knew about it. That was my next question.

  ‘Uncle Rajbir rang about half an hour ago,’ David told me. ‘He was havin’ a go at me. Apparently I know who he is—’

  ‘What? That’s just stupid. How would you know who he is when I haven’t told you anything about him?’ I asked.

  It wasn’t the cleverest thing to say. Tyrone was well known and my brother might have seen him down at the community centre or in town. Or at the football, as it turned out.

  ‘Parmjit and Inderjit drove past while you were … er … snogging,’ said my dad.

  ‘Snogging? What were they doin’ – watching me?’ I asked, getting angry. I mean, what did it have to do with them? I didn’t even like them.

  ‘I don’t know,’ my mum replied. ‘And I don’t really care. I just wish you had told us first …’

  ‘Who is he anyway?’ asked David.

  ‘None of your business,’ I snapped. ‘You never tell me about your girlfriends, do you?’

  My dad cleared his throat, like he does when he’s embarrassed. ‘Your uncle said that he was a black boy,’ he said, being all matter-of-fact.

  ‘He is,’ I admitted. ‘And if you’re going to start being all funny about his skin colour then you can all get stuffed—’

  ‘Hang on a minute, Simran,’ warned my mum. ‘Don’t go making this worse than it is. We’re not bothered by his colour. Why didn’t you tell us?’

  ‘I was going to – this week … it’s just that I wasn’t sure how you’d react—’

  ‘To you having a boyfriend?’ asked my dad. ‘It’s the same as the other boyfriends you’ve had. At first I want to tear out their throats with my bare hands and eat their livers with marmalade and toast, and then I calm down, accept that you’re a teenager and go with the flow – did you think I was going to lynch the poor lad?’

  ‘I dunno,’ I mumbled, feeling a bit stupid.

  ‘The problem is that because we didn’t know, your father’s family are going to make a big deal out of it,’ said my mum.

  David snorted. ‘And because he’s black,’ he added. ‘They’re a bunch of racist wankers—’

  ‘Keep that language out of this house,’ said my mum softly, which was her highest level of warning.

  ‘Sorry,’ said David, ‘but I’m right. They was all abusing Dean and the others at that cup game.’

  ‘Football?’ I asked, as my stomach did somersaults. It couldn’t have been a coincidence that Tyrone had ended up looking like a circus freak on the same day. Just couldn’t be.

  ‘Yeah – that cup game we had. Dean got loads of shit—’

  ‘David!’ shouted my mum.

  ‘Soz … He got lots of abuse and his cousin got beaten up … and Parmjit and them were all involved.’

  My dad gave David a funny look. ‘Is that the real reason you don’t want to play on their team?’ he asked.

  ‘Yeah,’ replied David.

  ‘Forget about that,’ I said. ‘This cousin – what’s his name?’

  ‘Tyrone – why?’

  ‘Oh fuck …’ I said.

  My mum glared at me, anger in her eyes.

  ‘Oh, so only you’re allowed to swear when you’re angry?’ asked David.

  ‘What’s the big deal, Simmy?’ asked my dad, as David started to catch on.

  ‘It’s him, isn’t it – Tyrone?’ he said to me.

  I nodded. My mum and dad looked confused.

  ‘Your new boyfriend is Dean’s cousin?’ asked my mum.

  ‘It’s looking that way,’ I told her.

  David told us that he was going to call Dean and find out for sure but then he asked me to describe Tyrone. When I did he just sat there and nodded his head

  ‘It’s the same person,’ he said. ‘But I’m still gonna call Dean.’

  I looked at my dad and tried to smile but, even though I couldn’t see myself, I know it came out all wrong.

  ‘You don’t mind, do you – really?’ I asked him.

  He moved closer and ruffled my hair like he used to do when I was four. ‘If I had my way you’d be locked in a room until you’re twenty-one,’ he joked. ‘No – of course I don’t mind …’

  ‘What about the rest of the family – you know what they’re like,’ I added.

  ‘Yeah – don’t I just. We’ll just have to deal with it,’ he told me.

  ‘Great,’ said my mum. ‘That’ll be fun …’

  ‘So do we get to meet this mysterious boyfriend or not?’ asked my dad.

  ‘We’ll see,’ I replied, jumping up out of the sofa. ‘I’m off to do some homework.’

  My parents said goodnight and I left the room, feeling much happier than when I’d entered it, although still a little guilty about not telling them myself. I thought about calling Tyrone to tell him but decided against it. I called Paula instead.

  DAVID

  IN THE END I went round to Dean’s because the credit on my phone was low and Simran was hogging the house phone. His dad said he was in his room but told me that I couldn’t stay for long. Dean was behind with a load of work and his dad wanted him to get it finished. He sounded like a carbon copy of my dad. It was no wonder they were so close. Dean opened the door and gave me a funny look.

  ‘You again?’ he said, smirking. ‘You might as well move in.’

  ‘Anything for your mum’s cooking,’ I said with a grin.

  ‘What’s so important that it couldn’t wait until the morning?’ asked Dean.

  I shrugged as I went and sat at his desk, watching the screensaver on his PC. The machine was identical to mine because our dads had got them from the same dodgy bloke down the pub. But Dean’s screensaver was different to mine. On his, a semi-naked woman in a bikini walked across the screen every few seconds, pretending to remove her top.

  ‘I bet your mum ain’t seen this,’ I said to him.

  ‘Nah – me dad has though. He loves it.’

  ‘Does she actually get her tits out?’ I asked.

  Dean shook his head. ‘Nah – but I got plenty of sites I could show you – if that’s what you’re after,’ he said.

  ‘Don’t be a knob, D,’ I told him. ‘I ain’t come round ’cos I need wank material …’

  Dean grinned. ‘Could have fooled me, blood. When was the last time you had a girl?’ he asked, taking the piss.

  ‘Your cousin – that Tyrone …’ I began.

  ‘What about him?’ replied Dean, sitting down on his bed and leaning back against the poster above it, so that the footballer in the picture looked like he was running on Dean’s head.

  ‘He’s gotta girl … ‘I told him.

  Dean raised an eyebrow. ‘What are you – his keeper? So what?’ he asked.

  ‘Did you know?’

  ‘Know what?’

  I
turned in the chair to look at him. ‘That yer cousin had a girl …?’

  Dean scratched his head. ‘You been smoking that homegrown shit from Dutty Dominic?’ he asked, talking about a dealer we knew.

  ‘No – I ain’t …’ I told him.

  ‘Well, you been getting’ high on summat. What the fuck are you on about?’

  I looked him in the eye and wondered if he was hiding something. Not that I was too bothered. But if he did know about my sister and Tyrone, I would have wanted him to tell me.

  ‘He’s checkin’ my sister,’ I told him.

  Dean’s eyes didn’t leave mine for even a split second. ‘You what?’ he said, surprised.

  ‘Simmy and Tyrone – she just told us.’

  ‘Get lost!’

  I shrugged. ‘Some of my family seen them together and told my dad,’ I admitted.

  ‘They told your dad – about what?’

  I looked away for a second or two. ‘That she was seein’ a black lad,’ I continued.

  Dean shifted his position so that the footballer was running off the side of his head. ‘They the same wankers that was at that game?’ he asked.

  ‘Yep …’

  ‘And I guess they don’t want your sister goin’ out with no kalah?’ he added, using one of the many Punjabi words I had taught him over the years.

  ‘Exactly – they went a bit mad …’

  Dean looked at me and then stood up. ‘Is that why you was askin’ if I knew anything?’ he said.

  ‘Nah – I just wondered … I’m not bothered if you did know,’ I replied.

  He shook his head. ‘I would have told you first, bro.’

  I nodded. ‘Yeah, I know.’

  ‘So why ask?’ he said.

  I shrugged. ‘Dunno.’ I didn’t have a clue why I’d asked.

  ‘So, your old man cool with it?’

  ‘Yeah – totally. He ain’t exactly short of black people he can call friends, is he?’ I pointed out.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Dean, ‘but this is his daughter we’re on about. Ain’t the same thing …’

  I got up from the chair and went and stood by his window. ‘Depends on what he’s like,’ I said.

  ‘Who – your dad?’

  I shook my head. ‘No – your cousin,’ I told him.

  Dean shifted again and then gave me a funny look. ‘That why you’re here – to ask me about Tyrone?’

  I shook my head. I didn’t know why I was there at all. I wanted to know about Tyrone but I’d already met him and I liked him. It wasn’t even that I was shocked or nothing. I didn’t mind who my sister went out with, as long as they were nice to her. But maybe in my head, right at the back where I didn’t notice it, maybe there was some prejudice or something that made me want to check out Tyrone’s credentials. I didn’t know.

  ‘Well …?’asked Dean.

  ‘Yeah – I suppose,’ I admitted. ‘I mean – I like Tyrone … I just wanted your opinion, I think. I don’t really know …’

  Dean looked at me for while and then he stood up too. ‘Come on,’ he told me. ‘My dad’s got this really nice French coffee in – I’m gonna have some.’

  ‘You’ll be up all night,’ I said.

  ‘With all the work I got, I’m gonna need to be,’ he replied.

  As I followed him downstairs, I shook my head at the way he’d left his work until the last minute again. I was relieved that I hadn’t pissed him off, and after he’d made drinks for us and his parents, we went and sat in his living room and he told me all about Tyrone. At one point his mum and Paula, his sister, came in and heard Tyrone’s name.

  ‘What’s he done now?’ asked Dean’s mum.

  ‘Chatted up my sister,’ I told her.

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Tyrone’s goin’ out with Simmy,’ said Dean.

  ‘He’s a lucky boy,’ said Mrs Ricketts.

  ‘Oh, so you know then?’ asked Paula with a grin.

  We all turned to her.

  ‘You knew?’ I asked.

  ‘Yeah! Me and Simmy talk about everything,’ she told me. ‘She’s just called me to say you were coming round.’

  ‘An’ you never thought to say nuttin’?’ asked Dean.

  Paula shook her head. ‘Nothing to do with you,’ she told him. ‘Besides, Simmy made me promise …’

  ‘Oh, right,’ I said.

  ‘He’s a really nice lad,’ added Paula.

  ‘Yeah – I was just reassuring David here that Tyrone wasn’t a drug dealer or nuttin’ like that,’ said Dean, winking at her.

  I looked at him and then away, as his mum smiled and told me that I had to go soon. I nodded, wondering whether Dean had made his last remark to let me know that he was pissed off; or whether it was the kind of joke that he would make. In the end I stopped thinking about it. I would have got paranoid otherwise. I left a few minutes later, telling Dean that I’d catch up with him at school. He just nodded at me in reply.

  SIMRAN

  IF I THOUGHT things were going to get better once I’d told my family about Tyrone, I was wrong. The following weekend, early on Saturday morning, my dad’s brothers arrived at our house unannounced. I was still in bed, trying to think of a reason for not getting on with all the housework my mum had given me, when the doorbell rang. I thought it was the postman delivering a package and ignored it, but then I heard my mum speaking in Punjabi. I sat up in my bed so quickly that I felt dizzy. Once my head had calmed down I walked over to my bedroom door and opened it. The other voice I could hear was my aunt Pritam’s – Uncle Malkit’s wife. I walked to the top of the stairs and looked down into the hallway. My aunt saw me and as soon as our eyes met she looked away. I called down to my mum.

  ‘What’s going on?’ I asked.

  ‘Nothing,’ replied my mum, in a tone of voice that said something was definitely up.

  ‘You want me to come down?’

  ‘Get dressed first,’ she told me before leading my aunt into the living room.

  While I was in the bathroom cleaning my teeth, I heard the doorbell go three more times. Each time my stomach flipped and I began to get worried about what was happening downstairs. I spent as long as I could getting dressed before heading down to the kitchen. David and my mum were in there, standing in front of the cooker.

  ‘What’s going on?’ I asked for the second time that morning.

  ‘Gill Enterprises,’ replied my brother.

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Your father’s family are here – to try and salvage the bad situation, as your eldest aunt put it,’ said my mum, mimicking my aunt’s accent.

  I looked at my brother, not understanding.

  ‘God – you can be so thick sometimes, Sim. They’re here to talk about you and your unsuitable boyfriend,’ he told me.

  ‘Are you havin’ a laugh?’ I snapped.

  ‘Don’t get pissed off with him,’ countered my mum. ‘It’s not his fault—’

  ‘Are you saying it’s mine?’ I asked quickly.

  ‘No – of course not. You know what they’re like …’

  ‘Yeah, but why do we have to put up with it?’

  My mum shrugged and continued making tea – just the way my dad’s family liked it.

  ‘Well, if they give me any shit they can all fuck off,’ I said, getting angry.

  ‘I know you’re upset but I won’t have that language,’ warned my mum.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said, realizing that it was important to keep her on my side. ‘So who’s here exactly?’

  David grinned. ‘Uncle Malkit, Aunt Pritam, Uncle Rajbir and Aunt Jagwant. The Prime Minister, the Pope …’ He winked at me.

  ‘It’s not funny, David,’ I told him.

  ‘Is from where I’m standing,’ he replied, before feeling sorry for me. ‘Just ignore them, Sim. I’m on your side …’

  My mum nudged him in the ribs.

  ‘And Mum and Dad,’ he added quickly. ‘And Jay would be too only he’s playing on his console.’

  ‘Great!
’ I sighed.

  ‘You don’t have to go in there,’ suggested my mum. ‘You could always stay out of the way.’

  ‘Why? I haven’t done anything wrong. Why should I let those idiots win?’

  My mum shrugged and told me that if that was the case I should finish making their tea. ‘You can say hello when you bring it in,’ she said, before going back into the living room.

  ‘I don’t believe this,’ I told my brother.

  ‘It’s proper serious in there,’ he replied. ‘When I opened the door to Uncle Rajbir, I thought someone was dead. He looked like someone had emptied his bank account …’

  ‘Someone is dead,’ I half joked. ‘Me.’

  * * *

  When I took in the tea no one spoke to me apart from my dad. In fact none of his family even looked at me except Uncle Malkit, and he gave me the kind of look that someone would reserve for dog shit on their toast. I set the tea down without breaking his gaze and then I smiled sweetly and said hello in Punjabi. That took him by surprise and he had to reply so as not to look like the idiot he was. But even then it was the quickest and quietest of hellos, mumbled through almost closed lips. I looked around the room at the others and none of them responded. I thought about making an exit but in the end I decided to wind them up and stay put. I walked across to where my mum sat on a dining chair and knelt down at her feet.

  Aunt Pritam looked down her nose at me, shifting in her seat. I wanted to burst into laughter because this aunt was wearing a shell suit too, a green one. I wondered whether it was a Gill family uniform.

  ‘You could get some biscuits,’ said my dad, obviously embarrassed.

  ‘And miss all the fun?’ I replied.

  Aunt Jagwant snorted and started talking to Pritam in Punjabi. They were talking about how I was disrespectful and what did my dad expect when I’d been allowed to behave like a white girl from when I was a baby.

  ‘I am here, you know,’ I told them.

  ‘This is not your concern,’ replied Uncle Rajbir, shifting position so that his belly stuck out even more than usual. I looked at his balding head rather than into his eyes.

  ‘They are talking about me, aren’t they?’ I asked.