Read Jubilee for Free Online Page B

leaning against the doorframe. ‘None of that, young lady,’ she says.
    ‘It’s not mine. Honestly.’ Asha spreads her fingers in a counterfeit of nothing-to-hide. ‘It belongs to someone else. Someone’s brother!’
    ‘Who?’
    Asha looks from Satish to Maya. She shakes her head.
    ‘I think it is yours,’ says Maya.
    ‘It isn’t!’
    ‘Then—’
    ‘I can’t! If I tell you, you’ll tell their parents, won’t you?’
    ‘Absolutely,’ Satish says. ‘You can be sure I will. Do you smoke?’ He waves the cigarette in front of her. ‘I can see you didn’t smoke this one, but do you smoke?’
    ‘No! I never would!’
    They look at her, waiting for more.
    ‘I never would!’ she says again.
    ‘I sincerely hope you’re telling the truth,’ says Maya. ‘How many times have we told you how dangerous it is? And Charlie’s granddad, when he died? You remember why he died?’
    ‘Yes, yes!’
    ‘Do you remember how Charlie felt ? Did that have any impact on you at all?’
    ‘Yes! But I don’t smoke.’
    For a second they are all quiet. Satish can hear movement in his parents’ room.
    ‘This,’ he says, making little stabbing motions at the cigarette. ‘This would suggest the opposite.’
    ‘You have a cigarette in your bag,’ Maya tells her. ‘That makes us think you have smoked, or are thinking of smoking. It makes us think that you think it’s OK.’
    ‘It’s not OK!’ Asha shakes her head vigorously.
    ‘Right,’ says Satish. ‘As of now, you are grounded. For two weeks. No going out, no visits from friends …’ Asha starts to cry, ‘… no swimming on Saturday. You can stay at home and help your mum.’
    ‘And we will be talking about your choice of friends,’ puts in Maya. ‘And who gave you that cigarette.’
    Asha slides down into the bed and pulls the covers under her chin. She turns to face the wall and sobs loudly, a sort of showy boo-hoo . Maya snaps off the light and they leave.
    From the kitchen, they can hear her continuing to cry. Maya grimaces. ‘We needed to do that, didn’t we? The shock – ?’
    ‘Yes,’ Satish says. ‘She won’t do that again in a hurry.’
    ‘Do you think she’s actually tried it? I’ve never smelt anything on her.’
    He considers. ‘No. I think she was just being silly.’
    ‘Peer pressure? She’s only eleven … she’s normally so sensible.’
    ‘I know.’
    ‘Her friends, though …’
    ‘Who do you think?’
    They look at each other, then simultaneously: ‘Daksha.’
    ‘Daksha’s brother?’ says Maya.
    ‘Probably.’ They stand in the quiet of the kitchen. As Satish winds down from the adrenaline rush – the discovery, the confrontation – the craving asserts itself again. Time for bed.
    ‘Let’s go up,’ he says. ‘Do you want me to do the honours?’
    She hesitates. ‘OK.’
    He always does the honours, it’s part of their night-time routine. She’ll make the packed lunches and he’ll store them overnight in the second fridge, their embarrassing, climate-changing monster. They hide it in the garage. Maya doesn’t like the dusty concrete of the floor there, or the chill of the place, so she always lets him do it. Tonight she sighs and drifts upstairs as he opens the door from the hall and slips inside.
    In the garage, the fluorescent lights take a while to trigger. They make tinny, effortful pings in the flickering darkness. Satish leans against the door while he waits for them to come on: there. He wedges the lunch bags onto the bottom shelf of the fridge, then double-checks the door behind him. It’s closed, and will stay that way. No one is left downstairs and Maya is already padding around in their room above him.
    His briefcase sits on a shelf by the door. He always dumps it there when he gets in. He tells the family he likes it that way, the separation of work and home. He asks them not to touch it because its contents could be important: hospital paperwork, cases to review.
    Maya gave him the briefcase