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ties： she was as slim as she had been at twenty。 Yet she pulled out the long； dark length of soft material and held it up against her dressing gown； letting it fall to caress her bare feet； looking down its length at its subtle embroidery。 To wear it would feel like a private joke between herself and Barry； like the cow…faced house and all the funny things Barry had said about Howard； as they walked away from interminable； ill…humoured council meetings。
There was a terrible weight on Parminder’s chest； but did not the Guru Granth Sahib exhort friends and relatives of the dead not to show grief； but to celebrate their loved one’s reunion with God？ In an effort to keep traitorous tears at bay； Parminder silently intoned the night…time prayer； the kirtan sohila。
My friend； I urge you that this is the opportune time to serve the saints。
Earn divine profit in this world and live in peace and fort in the next。
Life is shortening day and night。
O mind； meet the Guru and set right your affairs …
Lying on her bed in her dark room； Sukhvinder could hear what every member of her family was doing。 There was the distant murmur of the television directly below her； punctuated by the muffled laughter of her brother and her father； who were watching a Friday…night edy show。 She could make out her elder sister’s voice across the landing； talking on her mobile to one of her many friends。 Nearest of all was her mother； clunking and scraping in the built…in wardrobe on the other side of the wall。
Sukhvinder had drawn the curtains over her window and placed a draught excluder； shaped like a long sausage dog； along the bottom of her door。 In the absence of a lock； the dog impeded the door’s progress； it gave her warning。 She was sure that nobody would e in； though。 She was where she ought to be； doing what she ought to be doing。 Or so they thought。
She had just performed one of her dreadful daily rituals： the opening of her Facebook page； and the removal of another post from a sender she did not know。 As often as she blocked the person bombarding her with these messages； they changed their profile and sent more。 She never knew when one would appear。 Today’s had been a black and white image； a copy of a nieenth…century circus poster。
La Véritable Femme à Barbe； Miss Anne Jones Elliot。
It showed the photograph of a woman in a lacy dress； with long dark hair and a luxuriant beard and moustache。
She was convinced that it was Fats Wall who was sending them； although it might have been somebody else。 Dane Tully and his friends； for instance； who made soft； grunting ape…like noises whenever she spoke in English。 They would have done it to anybody of her colour； there were hardly any brown faces at Winterdown。 It made her feel humiliated and stupid； especially as Mr Garry never told them off。 He affected not to hear them； or else to hear only background chatter。 Perhaps he； too； thought that Sukhvinder Kaur Jawanda was an ape； a hairy ape。
Sukhvinder lay on her back on top of her covers and wished with all of her being that she was dead。 If she could have achieved suicide； simply by willing it； she would have done it without hesitation。 Death had e to Mr Fairbrother； why could it not happen to her？ Better yet； why could they not swap places？ Niamh and Siobhan could have their father back； and she； Sukhvinder； could simply slip into non…being： wiped out； wiped clean。
Her self…disgust was like a tle suit； every part of her prickled and burnt with it。 She had to will herself； moment by moment； to endure； to remain stationary； not to rush to do the one and only thing that helped。 The whole family had to be in bed before she acted。 But it was agony to lie like this； listening to her own breathing； conscious of the useless weight of her own ugly and disgusting body on the bed。 She liked to think of drowning； of sinking down into cool green water； and feeling herself slowly pressed into nothingness …
The great hermaphrodite sits quiet and still …
Shame ran down her body like a burning rash as she lay in the darkness。 She had never heard the word before Fats Wall spoke it in maths on Wednesday。 She would not have been able to look it up： she was dyslexic。 But he had been kind enough to explain what it meant； so there was no need。
The hairy man…woman …
He was worse than Dane Tully； whose taunts had no variety。 Fats Wall’s evil tongue fashioned a fresh； tailor…made torture every time he saw her； and she could not shut her ears。 His every insult and jibe was branded on Sukhvinder’s memory； sticking there as no useful fact had ever done。 If she could have been examined on the things he had called her； she would have achieved the first A grade of her life。 Tash ’N’ Tits。 Hermaphrodite。 The Bearded Dumb…bell。
Hairy； heavy and stupid。 Plain and clumsy。 Lazy； according to her mother； whose criticism and exasperation rained down upon her daily。 A bit slow； according to her father； who said it with an affection that did not mitigate his lack of interest。 He could afford to be nice about her bad grades。 He had Jaswant and Rajpal； both top of every class they took。
‘Poor old Jolly；’ Vikram would say carelessly； after glancing through her report。
But her father’s indifference was preferable to her mother’s anger。 Parminder did not seem able to prehend or accept that she had produced a child who was not gifted。 If any of the subject teachers made the slightest hint that Sukhvinder might try harder； Parminder seized upon it in triumph。
‘“Sukhvinder is easily discouraged and needs to have more faith in her abilities。” There！ You see？ Your teacher is saying you don’t try hard enough； Sukhvinder。’
Of the only class in which Sukhvinder had reached the second set； puting – Fats Wall was not there； so she sometimes dared put up her hand to answer questions – Parminder said dismissively； ‘The amount of time you children spend on the inter； I’m surprised you’re not in set one。’
Never would it have occurred to Sukhvinder to tell either of her parents about the ape grunts or about Stuart Wall’s endless stream of malice。 It would mean confessing that people beyond the family also saw her as sub…standard and worthless。 In any case； Parminder was friends with Stuart Wall’s mother。 Sukhvinder sometimes wondered why Stuart Wall did not worry about their mothers’ connection； but concluded that he knew that she would not give him away。 He saw through her。 He saw her cowardice； as he knew her every worst thought about herself； and was able to articulate it for the amusement of Andrew Price。 She had fancied Andrew Price once； before she realized that she was utterly unfit to fancy anyone； before she realized that she was laughable and strange。
Sukhvinder heard her father’s voice and Rajpal’s； growing louder as they came up the stairs。 Rajpal’s laughter reached a crescendo right outside her door。
‘It’s late；’ she heard her mother call from her bedroom。 ‘Vikram； he should be in bed。’
Vikram’s voice came through Sukhvinder’s door； close by； loud and warm。
‘Are you asleep already； Jolly？’
It was her childhood nickname； bestowed in irony。 Jaswant had been Jazzy； and Sukhvinder； a grizzling； unhappy baby； rarely smiling； had bee Jolly。
‘No；’ Sukhvinder called back。 ‘I’ve only just gone to bed。’
‘Well； it might interest you to know that your brother； here—’
But what Rajpal had done was lost in his shouting protests； his laughter； she heard Vikram moving away； still teasing Rajpal。
Sukhvinder waited for the house to fall silent。 She clung to the prospect of her only consolation； as she would have hugged a life…belt； waiting； waiting； for them all to go to bed …
（And as she waited； she remembered that evening not long ago； at the end of rowing training； when they had been walking through the darkness towards the car park by the canal。 You were so tired after rowing。 Your arms and your stomach muscles ached； but it was a good clean pain。 She always slept properly after rowing。 And then Krystal； bringing up the rear of the group with Sukhvinder； had called her a silly Paki bitch。
It had e out of nowhere。 They had all been messing around with Mr Fairbrother。 Krys