Billy and Girl Read Free Page A

who might never become a man, only a play man, a parody of a man, is going to win me and him a new world. A world without pain. Is that possible? Christ, sometimes I wish I had rheumatoid arthritis and a sweet young nurse would explain it was a chronic degenerative condition and send me to physiotherapy twice a week. Pain is the suburb of knowledge we grewup in. Little houses crowded together, narrow streets and dodgy lampposts. Pain has unanchored us, sent us raging down the nerve pathway to Patel’s English and Continental Groceries for chocolate bars.

Chapter 3
    ‘Why’re you so hung up on this pain thing, man?’ Raj often has to stop himself creasing up at Billy. The boy’s small for a fifteen-year-old, comes up to Raj’s waist, close enough to admire the buckle on his belt. Raj is convinced Billy is going to be famous for something, he’s just got that look about him. Like he’s grooming himself for fame.
    ‘I’m telling you, Raj, my sister’s not the only one who gets upset around here. Do you know that word, Raj?
Mad
?’
    Now that Raj is doing a part-time mechanics course he only works three days a week in his father’s shop, Patel’s English and Continental Groceries. Billy likes a good chat to Raj. For a start, the shop is just a short walk to the end of his road and Raj is a trapped audience. He can’t walk out when he’s bored.
    ‘How come you know the word “Whiskas”, Raj, but you don’t know the word
Mad
? Pain is an event that demands interpretation. That’s why I go on about it. I’m writing a book, as I’ve told you many a time in the Pickled Newt.’
    ‘Yeah?’ Raj looks genuinely impressed. Sometimes he takes Billy for a half at the Pickled Newt and gives him a problem to solve. The boy likes to think of himself as an expert on the human mind and it’s true he’s always got his nose stuck in a book. He stretches his hand out to the biscuit shelf and opens a packet of Jaffa Cakes. Better feed Billy England up, then. He hasn’t got a mum to cook for him, has he? ‘What’s it called?’
    ‘
Billy England’s Book of Pain
.’
    Raj methodically chews all the chocolate off his Jaffa, waving the packet in Billy’s direction. The boy shakes his head, deep in thought.
    ‘I should have gone to university when I was six. The study of the mind is my life’s work. I should have read books in libraries, not been stuck at home making milkshakes for Girl. Made notes in the margins. Underlined sentences with my little pencil stub. I should have gone on dates with girlfriends.’
    Raj wants to shut the shop and go for a pint. It’s been a long day, especially as Stupid Club, that being the local neighbourhood community, have used the shop to debate their topics all day. They stand in a huddle by the fridge pretending to buy a packet of sugar, discussing why it is that some people wash dishes and then don’t think to rinse them. So when you make yourself a sandwich, right, and you put it on a side plate that hasn’t been rinsed, the bread tastes of the washing-up liquid. This is just one of the many topics debated by Stupid Club on a daily basis. Raj’s father once tried to freeze the club out of his shop by turning off all the heating. His family went down with a strain of killer flu and Stupid Club rose to the occasion. Shuffled into the shop wrapped in extra woollies and hats, slapping the tops of their arms, united and cheerful, while his children and wife shivered in bed on antibiotics.
    ‘I’ve missed out, Raj! I should have been nervous when I had a haircut case my girlfriend didn’t like it. We should have gone to the movies together and shared a packet of chocolate raisins. We could have gone to Phuket for a fortnight! Instead I’m holed up here with my crazy bitch sister.’
    Raj is interested in the crazy sister. Not many good-looking seventeen-year-olds in the street. ‘Don’t forget her menthols.’ He slaps down a pack of ten cigarettes with pictures ofeucalyptus