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‘Yo! Bubs. You gonna stay in here all day? Thought you feminist types hated the kitchen.’
Mae was chomping on a celery stick.
‘Just eat a samosa, you brat.’
Mae laughed. ‘No, thanks. I’d rather let my arteries breathe.’
‘Arteries don’t breathe,’ replied Bubblee.
‘Whatevs.’
Bubblee regarded her little sister. So slight and pretty, pixie-like – full of energy and life. She envied the way the future was laid out in front of Mae. There was no doubt she’d thrive. Things would fall into place for her because nothing seemed to bother her – there were no insecurities, no second-guessing. God, how depressing. Bubblee wanted to be Mae. She shook her head.
‘Are you, like, having a spasm?’ said Mae, scrunching up her face.
‘Shut up and take these samosas in.’
‘Sure thing.’
They were leaving the kitchen as Bubblee asked: ‘What’s wrong with our mum, by the way? She’s acting a bit weird.’
‘God knows.’ Mae gave an exaggerated shiver. ‘Ugh. Needs. What was that?’
It was odd, but then people were always going on about men’s needs. No one else’s seemed to matter. Bubblee scoffed. It was just typical. Bubblee noticed the colour had risen in Mae’s cheeks.
‘I hope university opens up your mind a little to feminism and sexuality.’
Mae looked at her, hesitating. ‘Bubs, can I ask… Have you…?’
‘What?’
‘Have you… had sex?’ whispered Mae.
‘That’s none of your business,’ said Bubblee, raising her head.
Mae stopped. ‘But you’re not married.’
Mae seemed to consider it, looking by turn amazed and bewildered. Living in a small village with her traditional parents had done nothing for Mae, but Bubblee couldn’t help her own heart from beating faster.
‘We’re not talking about what is, essentially, a person’s private matter,’ replied Bubblee. She walked past Mae, into the living room, adamant that she’d not let her flushed face prevent her from acting normally.
They’d all eaten, cleared the table and were sitting around, drinking tea and eating jalebis. After so much gabbing and noise that was brought about by too many people trying to fill their bellies, a quiet calm had descended upon them. Farah felt content as she watched Mustafa talk to Fatti. It wasn’t as if they had a new-found bond since discovering they were actually brother and sister, but there was a respect that they showed each other, which Farah felt comforted by. Their dad stood up, unexpectedly.
‘Okay, okay. Listen now.’
Everyone turned their heads towards him. He brushed down his brown trousers before patting his dyed jet-black hair.
‘Mae is leaving us.’
Farah noticed Mae look at Fatti.
‘I’m not dying, Abba,’ said Mae.
‘Tst tst, such things you say,’ said her mum. ‘You will give yourself the evil eye.’
‘Mae is leaving us,’ repeated their dad.
‘Yeah, rather unfairly since none of us were allowed to leave home for university,’ said Farah.
She’d have liked the chance to be alone and independent. Fatti never seemed to have the desire, but if Farah had known it was within the realms of possibility there’s no way she’d have passed up the opportunity. As for Bubblee, she didn’t care about whether the opportunity was there or not – she created it for herself, no matter how much their parents, especially their mum, had told her she couldn’t.
‘Can you let Dad speak?’ said Mae. ‘Finally it’s something about me rather than you lot. Go on, Abba.’
Mae settled into the sofa, curling her feet under her and holding on to her mug of hibiscus tea.
‘Mae, we hope you will be a good girl and come home every weekend.’
There was a pause.
‘Is that it?’ Mae asked.
Farah had to suppress a laugh. Their dad cleared his throat, seeming to struggle for words.
‘Uff, Jay’s abba. Hurry up,’ said their mum.
‘Study the media well,’ he added. ‘It is very bad and maybe you will fix it.’
‘God help us if Mae’s about to help to fix the world,’ retorted Bubblee.
Mae leapt off the sofa and gave her dad a hug. ‘Thanks, Abba.’
He held on to her and kissed the top of her head. Farah noticed Mae looking at Fatti again. Farah glanced at Fatti who was shaking her head.
‘What’s going on?’ asked Farah, her eyes darting between both of them.
‘What? Nothing,’ said Fatti.
Only now Ash was looking at her too. Fatti seemed to be suppressing a smile as her hand went to her stomach.
‘Well, the thing is…’
‘She’s only preggers, isn’t she?’ interjected Mae, beaming.
Their mum and dad seemed confused.
‘With a baby, Amma and Abba,’ explained Mae. ‘Up the duff – having a baby.’
Mae gestured a large curve around her stomach with her hands. Their parents looked at Fatti as Farah saw her mum’s eyes fill with tears.
‘Allah, you are great,’ exclaimed her mum.
Before Farah knew it everyone was standing up, hugging each other. Mustafa gripped Ash’s hand, a constrained smile on his face as Bubblee kissed Fatti on both cheeks.
‘How come she got to know before the rest of us?’ said Bubblee, pointing at Mae.
Mae put her arm around Bubblee and said: ‘A, I am a very approachable person, thank you very much, and B, I’m her favourite sister.’
Mae went and took her place back on the sofa.
‘I’m only three weeks,’ said Fatti. ‘I don’t even have any symptoms yet.’
‘We mustn’t tell anyone,’ their mum said. ‘Not until after three months or you might get the evil eye.’
Farah realized she hadn’t moved from her spot when Fatti looked at her. She got up as quickly as she could to hug her sister.
‘Congratulations, Fatti.’
Farah felt a lump in her throat. Something pushed up through her chest and caused tears to surface; she wanted to run out of the room and cry in the bathroom, on her own. She blinked them back before anyone could see but caught Mustafa’s eye.
‘It’s such good news,’ she added, releasing herself from Fatti’s grip and grabbing on to her arms.
‘Thanks, Faru.’
Fatti stared at her for too long. Farah saw the pity in her eyes so starkly that it didn’t matter how much she blinked back her tears, they still fell down her cheeks – no amount of smiling could hide them.
‘I’m sorry,’ whispered Fatti.
Farah just shook her head and tried to laugh. ‘What for? This is great news.’
Before Fatti could say anything else she was swept away by her mum who began to give instructions on how to be pregnant. There was something not quite right about their mum’s excitement in telling Fatti what to eat and what to do when she had never actually carried Fatti. Surely Farah’s parents’ first grandchild should’ve been hers – the daughter their mum held in her womb. Farah instantly regretted the thought. Fatti was their sister! Even if it was their mother’s sister who had given birth to her. It was amazing what an unfulfilled desire could do to a person; how the tendrils of jealousy and resentment could so easily dig into a person’s mind. Farah thought she was better than that. She was meant to be the contented and sensible one, after all: the glue that kept them all together. But somehow, with time, the role had been co-opted by Fatti and neither of them had even realized it.
‘I’d have bet good money that Fatti, of all people, would have been the first one of us to have a baby,’ laughed Farah.
It was meant to be a joke but everyone’s voices quietened as they looked at Farah. She realized the joke wasn’t actually funny, but had to maintain her smile. Fatti was staring at her, but with the same pity she’d shown earlier, and it made Farah want to shake her and say: You weren’t always this good and happy. Have you forgotten who you are?
‘We never thought she’d even find anyone to marry her,’ added Farah.
The words were right but the order was coming out all jumbled, or the intonation was wrong. Ash’s face was no longer open and kind – it seemed hard, daring Farah to continue.
‘Not like that. I mean, then she found you, Ash. And you took her off our hands.’
‘Far…’ Bubblee was looking at Farah. Her sister’s exhausted face seemed fully alert now.
‘What? I mean he did, didn’t he?’ Farah laughed again. ‘Remember Fats and her stuffing Primula cheese down her face? The mashed prawns and secret stashes of food in her bedside drawers? You know prawns aren’t allowed when you’re pregnant?’ She paused, the silence oppressing her. ‘Maybe Amma’s already told you that?’
‘I think you should stop.’ Ash was staring at Farah, his eyes intense, hands gripped together.
‘No,’ said Farah, trying to make them understand she wasn’t saying anything wrong – just pointing out the irony of it all. ‘We’re all happy she’s pregnant. A few years ago the only thing she had in her life was her hand modelling and now look… a husband with his own driving-school business – working with him like they’re a power couple, a whole new look as well.’ Farah’s smile was faltering; she could feel it strain under the pressure of appearances. ‘You all remember how Fatti was, don’t you? It’s against all the odds.’
‘Farah…’ began Mustafa.
‘I’m just –’
‘Stop,’ exclaimed Ash.
‘All right,’ said Mustafa, shooting a look at Ash. ‘There’s no need to use that tone.’
His voice rang out as clear as Ash’s. It was the most emphatic Farah had heard him.
‘Then she should stop.’ Ash was looking at Mustafa now too.
Before anyone could say anything else their mum clapped her hands together as if giving a round of applause. When she didn’t speak their dad said: ‘Who wants more tea?’
‘Jeez,’ muttered Mae.
‘I’ll have one,’ said Bubblee, still looking at Farah. ‘Ash?’
He was rubbing his palms, eyebrows knit together. ‘No, thank you. Perhaps it’s time for us to go.’
Farah’s stomach had turned into knots of anxiety as she looked at Fatti. Please don’t leave. I didn’t mean it like that. But the words – the ones she should actually be saying – failed to come out. She hoped her look said it all. Farah waited for Fatti to speak. The seconds seemed to stretch into hours.
‘No, we’ll stay,’ replied Fatti. ‘I’ll have one too. Peppermint.’
Fatti walked into the kitchen with Bubblee, leaving Farah behind in a room filled with silence.
Bubblee turned around and faced Fatti. ‘You know it’s because –’
‘I know,’ replied Fatti.
Fatti had been aware that it wasn’t going to be easy, not with Farah having wanted a child so badly, but she’d thought that perhaps Farah had now accepted it and let go of that want. Of course, you can’t let go of it because it’s not in your control. It holds on to you, not the other way around.
‘And she didn’t mean –’
‘Yes, she did,’ said Fatti.
Fatti turned her back to Bubblee, filling the kettle with water. The truth was that Fatti knew she’d never escape who she used to be, but at the same time she didn’t want to. It was fine with her that she used to be nervous and shy and never felt as though she belonged. It made the place she was in now all the more miraculous. What she didn’t like was the idea that her sister thought the old Fatti was still inside her somewhere. As if Fatti’s happiness, her whole persona, was a phase. Because she didn’t feel that different. It was more like being stripped of the negative stuff rather than it being buried. Fatti had peeled back the unwanted layers of who she was. And though she felt bad for Farah, surely Fatti deserved some sympathy for finding out her parents weren’t her biological ones, for going to meet them in Bangladesh, only to find out they didn’t regret giving her up one bit. But Fatti let go of that because she no longer wanted to be unhappy. Having Ash helped. It helped a great, great deal.
‘Okay,’ said Bubblee. ‘That wasn’t –’
‘Forget it.’ Fatti turned around and gave Bubblee a smile. ‘Let’s just forget the whole thing.’
Bubblee began warming some milk in a pan. ‘So, you and Ash are helping to overpopulate the earth then.’
Fatti saw Bubblee was smiling.
‘Yes. I’m sure you disagree.’
‘How does your stepson feel about it?’
