The Punjabi Pappadum Read Online Free PDF Page A

native fauna nailed to the wall over here,” said Dexter, pointing out the kookaburra to the new arrivals.
    This time Mr Singh meant business.
    â€œVeejay!”
    Alone, in the hot seat, Dexter sensed an almighty ear bashing brewing. He stood completely still, useless, like a party sparkler that had lost its fizz and died. Not having a Plan B to fall back on, Dexter did the next best thing.
    â€œUmm, Mr Singh, I think you’ll find what you’re looking for down behind the counter.”

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Spiced mutton curry cooked with tomatoes.
    M r Carmody liked to start off low-key for the first gig on the Christmas list and this year was no exception. Veejay, Dexter and Travis sat at the back of the minibus, their minds on things other than carols.
    â€œYou can’t give her six woks,” said Travis. “It doesn’t make any sense.”
    â€œI devised the wok system,” barked Dexter, “and I can give her six woks if I want. She’s beautiful.”
    â€œCorrect me if I’m wrong, but I thought you said that this wok system of yours went up to five. Doesn’t five woks mean exceptional?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œWe’ll that’s the limit then — five. You can’t go any higher than five. The sixth wok doesn’t count. It’s null and void, it doesn’t mean anything.”
    Dexter replayed their first meeting in his mind and pictured Indira’s wicked, killer smile.
    â€œWhat about five and a half then?”
    â€œTell him, will you, Veejay,” said Travis. “You can’t have any more than five, can you?”
    From the window seat Veejay turned to face them. His eyes were faraway and worried. Suddenly Travis and Dexter felt ashamed. The Pappadum was running at a loss now. Each new day nibbled away at the small amount of money the Singhs had managed to save over the years. The restaurant business was all they knew.
    â€œHuh?” mumbled Veejay.
    â€œTell him he can’t give Indira six woks,” said Travis.
    â€œI wouldn’t get too excited about Indira,” said Veejay. “You don’t know her like I do. She’s trouble.”
    The words made Dexter stiffen. A sharp pain pricked his chest as if Veejay had jabbed him with something sharp and pointy.
    â€œYeah, but you’re related. Indira and I have a totally different relationship.”
    â€œWhat relationship? You pole-axed her wearing my dad’s Y-fronts remember?”
    Sour grapes, thought Dexter. He’s emotional, I’ll let it slide.
    Finally the minibus pulled up outside the Happy Valley Nursing Home. A small welcoming committee, at different stages of mobility, were gathered at the front doors. Full of Christmas spirit they were. Those with wheelchairs, frames or walking sticks had decorated them with tinsel and a select few wore red hats with white pompoms.
    â€œI’d like you all to remember what today is about, gents,” hollered Mr Carmody. “ ‘A Day with the Grey’ is more than just Christmas carols. Some of these folk don’t have grandchildren and some have no family at all. You’ve all been paired up with someone for morning tea. There’s a list in the foyer. After that we’ll take to the stage. Any questions?”
    Grant Thompson had one.
    â€œWho are the people with cameras?”
    â€œAh, the press,” beamed Mr Carmody, clawing his way through the boys to the front. “What a surprise.”
    He ran a comb quickly through his thinning hair then composed himself with a couple of deep breaths. With a whoosh, the doors of the minibus opened and out leapt Mr Carmody and his happy smiling face.
    â€œGood morning, everyone. Baldwin Carmody at your service.”
    With name-tags pinned securely to their chests, the Regional Boys Choir made their way into the activities room to locate their “buddies” for morning tea.
    Veejay found Ron near a big