Genie and Paul by Natasha Soobramanien Read Free Book Online Page A

I can’t look away until the blue fish has ravaged that red fish and there’s no more movement in the tank, just a flurry of ripped up scales, the whole thing looking like one of those snowglobes you shake up, except the water’s pink like dentists’ mouth-rinse. That’s when Digs dips his net into the bowl, almost gently, careful to avoid his fish, which is just like it had been before the fight – absolutely still. Digs tips the dead fish onto the carpet. Nudges the thing with his foot. Says to Paul, Flush that… My dad always said there’d be a job for me, a flat for me, if I split up with Paul. I could change my life. Up until that moment I could barely consider it. Just thinking about it made me feel exhausted. Sometimes it’s easier to go along with the life you find yourself in than to think about changing it. But that morning something kicked in. I had to get out. The way Paul was going, something bad was going to happen. And we had to pay off Digs. In the end I went crawling to my dad. He told me he’d give me the money if I got shot of Paul. That he’d find me somewhere calm to sort my head out. I was relieved. Like he’d made the decision for me. After that I had to stop caring. That’s what I told Paul when he came to visit just after we split. That I’d stopped caring. To his credit, he understood. He said he was relieved. That I was better off without him. He ruffled my hair, kissed me on the forehead, and wished me happiness.
     
    Then I went to see him last week, when he called. It fucked me up a bit, Genie. I hope I never see him again.

(viii) 1989–90
    It was at boarding school that Genie and Eloise first met. But they might never have become friends at all, if Genie had not taken to sleepwalking. One night, soon after arriving, she was found wandering the wood-panelled corridors where the retired nuns lived, a small ghost in pyjamas. These nuns had not retired from being nuns, but from contact with the school and its pupils. In doing so, Genie felt that they had lost some essential vitality, were moving closer to death – a death, moreover, which they welcomed.
    In protest at being sent away to school, Genie refused to talk to the other girls. Instead, she allowed her repulsion and fascination with these sequestered nuns to take the place of friendship. She took to creeping around their wing, spying on them. She would hide in the bushes by the large bay window of their peach-coloured lounge, and watch them peacably waiting for death. She came to know their death clothes, their death stoops, their death smell and the gluey yellow death cast to their eyes; and their breath, when she caught a waft in passing, even held a taste of death. Genie would avert her eyes if she encountered any of these nuns in person, for fear of looking death full in the face. Hadn’t Paul done just that in Mauritius? And had this not killed something in him?
    After the sleepwalking incident, Genie was moved to a room on the chapel corridor. These were single rooms, intended for older girls, but here the housemistress could keep a closer eye on her. A false sense of quiet was maintainedin this part of the school to preserve the sanctity of the chapel. Genie would sometimes catch bits of muted hymn in her sleep or wake to the click of rosary beads as they swung from the hip of a passing nun. It was ghostly and lonely there, until she met Eloise.
    One night Genie heard a rap on the fire-hatch above her bed. Before she could answer, the little door was pushed open, and a figure climbed through from the next room, onto her bed, and Genie’s legs.
    Gerroff, said Genie. You’re hurting me.
    For such an ethereal-looking being, the girl was heavy.
    Sorry.
    She sat by Genie’s feet. She was holding a small bottle. She unscrewed the lid and waved it under her nose and sniffed it. Genie could feel by her reaction that it stung. She held out the bottle.
    Want some?
    No.
    Genie must have sounded afraid. The girl’s eyes