We Can Be Heroes by Catherine Bruton

other.
    â€˜I dunno,’ I say. ‘Jed’s just arrived.’
    â€˜Suit yourself,’ she says. ‘But Shakeel’s gonna help us build a tree house in the garden.’
    I glance at Jed. ‘She’s OK,’ I say. ‘Even if she is a girl.’
    â€˜Thanks a lot!’ says Priti.
    Jed tosses his hair back off his face and checks Priti out again, then shrugs his shoulders and says, ‘There’s nothing better to do here, I suppose.’
    I breathe a sigh of relief and off we go.
    * * *
    Granny insists on walking over with us to Priti’s house to make sure we’re not imposing. It’s Shakeel who opens the door.
    â€˜Hello, Mrs Evans,’ he says. Then he glances at Priti. ‘I do hope my sister has not been causing you any trouble?’
    Priti grins at him and sticks out her tongue. He grins back.
    â€˜No, no, quite the opposite,’ says Granny. ‘She’s been very kind to Ben, and to my other grandson, Jed.’ She puts a hand on Jed’s arm, but he shrugs it away. I see Shakeel take in the gesture. ‘Priti has very kindly invited them both over to play,’ Granny goes on, ‘but I just wanted to check with your parents that it wasn’t an imposition.’
    â€˜I’m afraid my mother and father are both out at present,’ says Shakeel.
    â€˜Oh, I see,’ says Granny. She seems uncertain suddenly.
    â€˜But I know my parents will consider it no imposition whatsoever to have your grandsons here,’ Shakeel goes on. ‘And neither do I.’
    â€˜That’s very kind of you, Shakeel.’ Granny smiles.
    â€˜It will be our pleasure to have them.’
    Granny hesitates, glancing back to our house.
    â€˜Perhaps your husband is not comfortable with this arrangement?’ asks Shakeel.
    â€˜Oh, no, no,’ says Granny hurriedly, bright spots of colour appearing in her cheeks. ‘I was just concerned. Will there be someone around to look after them?’
    â€˜I don’t need looking after,’ says Jed crossly.
    Shakeel smiles. ‘Be assured. My brother, sister or I will be here to supervise at all times.’
    â€˜Well then, I’m sure the boys would love to come in and play, Shakeel,’ says Granny, smiling brightly. ‘Please just send them back if they are any trouble at all.’
    â€˜I don’t need anyone to look after me!’ Jed repeats.
    â€˜Then it is agreed,’ says Shakeel with a smile. ‘Thank you, Mrs Evans. I know Priti is delighted to have the boys as playmates.’
    Jed is scowling at Shakeel, but Granny seems satisfied.
    â€˜Just remember your pleases and thank yous,’ shesays to us, before she heads back across the road.
    â€˜Don’t worry. We’ll look after them!’ says Priti with the biggest grin I’ve ever seen. Ever. Jed looks furious.
    Priti’s house is laid out just like my grandparents’, but it doesn’t feel the same at all. I know that an old couple called the Moons used to live here, so the carpets and wallpaper are the sort old people choose, but the curtains and pictures and stuff have obviously been chosen by Priti’s mum and they are totally different – lots of bright colours, all shiny and silky.
    And there’s loads and loads of stuff
everywhere
. My granny likes it all neat with just one or two ornaments and some pictures in silver frames, but this house has tons of knick-knacks and more books than I’ve ever seen in my life, with weird titles like
The Crescent and the Couch: Counselling the Modern Muslim
and
Listen to the Heron’s Voice: Gender, Feminism and Islam
– even
The Sheikh’s New Clothes: Psychoanalysis of the Suicide Bomber
.
    There are photos of Priti and her brothers and sister over every available surface and pinned up onall the walls. Massive pictures, some of them in big gold frames. There’s even an oil painting of them all which must have been done