A Distant Shore

II

Gabriel wipes the blood from his friend’s eyes. An hour earlier Said had fallen from the bottom bunk and onto the hard concrete floor, and although Gabriel had immediately jumped down and made an effort to haul Said back into bed, he soon realised that his friend should not be moved. Said had hit his head as he fell, and Gabriel continues to mop the petals of blood from the floor with a paper tissue. Said does not seem to notice the blood, and he lacks the energy to wipe the vomit from his mouth. For much of the past hour Gabriel has been kneeling beside this man, and hoping that Said might talk to him. When not kneeling beside him, Gabriel has been holding on to the bars of the cell and begging the night warder to call for a doctor. But the night warder continues to watch television with his boots up on the desk, his legs crossed casually at his ankles and the flickering glow of the screen illuminating his face. Suddenly Gabriel looks up as the man in the next cell once more kicks the wall.

“Can’t you lot just fucking shut it with your puking and carrying on?”

Gabriel climbs to his feet and crosses to the door of the cell. He prepares to launch yet another appeal for a doctor, but his neighbour’s outburst has won the night warder’s attention. The boots swing down off the desk and the man walks slowly towards Gabriel. The night warder is a tall stocky man, and his dark uniform, and the jangling keys that hang from his belt, suggest a severity that is betrayed only by his boyish face. He stops short of Gabriel, who watches as the man places both hands on the bars of the cell next door. For a moment the night warder simply stares. Gabriel imagines that, faced with this display of authority, his loud-mouthed neighbour will now be backing down, for he is sure that this man is a coward. The night warder continues to stare, and then the neighbour speaks, but this time in an almost helpless voice.

“What am I supposed to do? I can’t get no fucking sleep with them going on like that.”

The night warder leans forward. “I told you to be quiet, sunshine.” He pauses. “I’m trying to watch the telly.”

“How can you watch the telly with all that fucking puking? It’s disgusting.”

Gabriel watches as the night warder lifts one hand from the bars of the cell and points directly at its occupant.

“I don’t want to hear another word, right?” The night warder does not blink. He repeats himself. “Right?”

Gabriel hears a short grunt, and then the creak of a bed as his neighbour sits back down.

Now that he is satisfied, the man turns towards Gabriel. He speaks as he walks. “He’s not getting any better then?”

Gabriel steps to one side so that the night warder can look in and see for himself.

“What’s the matter with him?”

“Please, I have seen this type of illness before. It is like malaria, but it is something more than this. I think Said is dying if we do not find a doctor.”

The night warder peers into the cell, but he seems reluctant to get too close. The pools of vomit are beginning to congeal, and the smell is ripe. The man pulls a crumpled handkerchief from his pocket, and clasps it to his face with one hand, and he points with the other.

“It would help if you cleaned up that shit.”

“Please, Mr. Collins. Said needs help, that is what I am telling you.”

The night warder looks from Gabriel to Said, and then back to Gabriel. His brow furrows, and he understands that a decision is being forced upon him.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Gabriel is quick to react. “Thank you, Mr. Collins. And perhaps some water for Said while we wait for the doctor?”

The night warder says nothing. He turns on his heels and begins to amble his way back towards his desk, all the while keeping the handkerchief pressed closely to his face.

Gabriel is once again enveloped by a silence that is disturbed only by the night warder’s television set. There are no windows to this cell, but Gabriel knows that it is night time. Beyond this prison there is England. Three days ago, when they first locked him in this cell with Said, Gabriel began to doubt that he would ever again see England. As his cellmate began to speak, Gabriel could see that the man was ailing, for his hands were shaking and his eyes were damp with fear.

“They say I robbed an Englishman and his wife on a train.”

Gabriel waited for Said to tell him what had actually occurred, but Said simply shrugged his shoulders.

“It is not exactly how it happened.” He thought for a few moments and then continued. “Yes, I was on a train and I was talking to some English people. My English is good. In my country I am a teacher. I practise hard with my English. I was talking to some English people, for I am not afraid. I know that when the train gets to the town I will ask for asylum at the police station. That is the way. I am a human being who has paid over United States dollars three thousand, everything that I have, to come from my country in a small space under a truck. From Iraq I travel like this like an animal, but maybe worse than an animal, but I do not care for I know that in England they will give me money and some kind of voucher and let me work. Everybody wants to keep out the Muslim, but in England freedom is everything. They can change the law, but you cannot change the culture of the people and so I am not afraid. British people are good. I have friends who tell me the truth. I do not hate Americans, but they are not gentlemen. Why should I be afraid?”

He looked at Gabriel as though expecting an answer, but Gabriel said nothing.

“And then an Englishman and his wife they asked me if I would watch their bags while they go to the restaurant car, and I say yes, of course, yes. And then they come back and look at their bags, and the woman says that I have taken their money and she runs to get the man in the red jacket, the train manager. But why would I come all the way from my country to make a new life here and then take their money? I cannot go back. I sold my land and animals to pay for my journey. I have nothing to go back to. My wife and family are with my brother and waiting for me to send money so they can come to England. I have two hands, I can work. One day I can buy a television and a radio. A fridge. A carpet. Maybe, one day, a car. I have two hands.”

Said showed Gabriel his hands, but his hands continued to tremble and Gabriel noticed the beads of sweat on Said’s brow.

“The police,” he said. “When the train stopped, the police, they come for me. I told them, I have lost everything. My family, I have left my family behind. Despite my education I cannot feed my family. I am no longer a teacher. I am here to begin my life again and I have the appetite to do this so they must help me, yes? I told them I have a case to present, but they do not listen to me. I tell them, please do not send me back to my country. Not there. The policemen they ask me, what happened to you in your country? I told them that I cannot talk of this or I will lose what little appetite I have left. The policemen looked at me, so I ask them, is it true? Is it true that in England you can smell freedom in the air? That it is a different air? But they will not answer me. I say, I have smelled a little of the air and it is good, but why are you putting me in this prison? I do not want these filthy trousers, or this grey T-shirt that another man has worn. I will not wear your slippers. England is not my country. I have done nothing. I am not a criminal man. I have never been a criminal man. I have two hands, I can work.”

Gabriel asked his new cellmate if he was all right, but Said shrugged his shoulders.

“I am cold, but I have no money to see a doctor. And now maybe I will never see England again. But have you noticed? The light in England is very weak. It depresses me. They have taken the sun out of the sky.”

Said looked forlorn, and so Gabriel suggested that he try to sleep. Gabriel squeezed his friend’s shoulder, and then he climbed onto the top bunk and stretched out. He listened as beneath him Said continued to cough and splutter. Sadly, for the past three days, his cellmate’s condition has only deteriorated.

And now the night warder arrives back at the cell, and he javelins a wet mop and then tosses a roll of paper towel through the bars.

“Here, clean up this shit, Gabriel. It will make everybody feel happier.”

Gabriel looks down from his bunk, but the night warder is already walking back to his television set. Gabriel climbs from his perch, and he picks up the mop and the roll of paper towel and he begins to clean up the floor around Said’s prostrate body. His friend continues to breathe in a rasping whisper, and although his eyes are still open he appears now to be incapable of focusing on anything. Gabriel bends down and he places the roll of paper towel underneath Said’s head so that it becomes a squashed tubular pillow. During the past three days, the story of Said’s life in Iraq has become increasingly improbable and riddled with contradictions, but Gabriel has been a patient audience. He readjusts the roll of paper towel under his friend’s head, and listens once more as Said struggles to make himself heard.

“Please,” whispers Said. “My brother and my children. You must tell them.”

Gabriel takes his friend’s hand and squeezes hard.

“Said, you must continue to allow hope to grow.”

“Please, you must tell them.”

And then Said’s eyes fall shut. Gabriel leaps to his feet, scattering the mop to the far side of the cell.

“Mr. Collins, it is Said. Please, we need a doctor.”

The night warder abandons his precious television set, and he moves quickly to the cell. For the first time Gabriel can see concern on the face of the man. The night warder speaks to Gabriel, but without taking his eyes from Said.

“I’ll call the doctor, but they do everything in their own sweet time.”

The night warder leaves Gabriel marooned with his friend. According to Said, his brother is still in Iraq, but at other times he is in America. And sometimes Said has a wife, and at other times he is a bachelor. But he always has children, a boy and a girl. Gabriel looks at Said until he cannot bear to look any more, and then he slumps down to the floor and rests his back against the bars of the cell.

It is the sound of keys in the cell door that alerts Gabriel to the fact that he has fallen asleep. A tall, thin man ignores Gabriel and steps quickly into the cell. The night warder follows him. The man puts down a brown leather bag, and he kneels beside Said. Gabriel stares at this reed of a man, who now stands and turns to face the warder.

“He’s been gone for some time.” The night warder looks shocked, but the doctor is ready to leave. “I suppose we’ve got some paperwork to sort out, right?”

The night warder waits for the doctor to stride from the cell, and then he locks back the door. Gabriel clambers to his feet.

“Please, Mr. Collins, you cannot do this. You must take him away!”

The night warder does not trouble himself to look at Gabriel. He calmly escorts the doctor back in the direction of the television set, and Gabriel retreats to the furthest corner of the cell and huddles his body into a tight ball. He slides to the floor.

Eventually, the day warder arrives. He is a short, but powerfully built, man who looks as though at one time he might have enjoyed a career in professional sport. He stands by the door to the cell and looks contemptuously at Gabriel.

“So what’s the problem then? What are you wailing about? He’s dead. He ain’t gonna bite.”

The man in the cell next door starts to laugh.

“You should make him eat him. Fucking noisy cannibal.”

The warder steps to his right and looks into the neighbour’s cell.

“And you can shut it, you stupid little cretin.”

Obviously these few words are enough, for immediately there is silence. The warder steps back and looks at Gabriel, who now realises that the impossibly thin doctor is standing with this man.

The doctor peers into the cell, and then he simply instructs the warder to “open up.” Gabriel climbs slowly to his feet. The doctor whispers something to the day warder, who begins to peel off his jacket.

“Well, sonny, what’s with all the shouting? You losing it up here?” The day warder taps the side of his head.

Gabriel stares at the warder, and then slides back to the floor and curls himself into an even tighter ball. The warder shakes his head in disgust and turns to the doctor.

“You might have to help me get him up and onto the bunk.”

The doctor puts down his leather bag and he now slips out of his jacket. Unlike the warder, whose jacket lies in an untidy heap, the doctor folds his neatly and places it on top of his bag.

“What’s he in here for?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“He’s not an illegal then?”

“Oh, he’s that all right, but that’s only half the problem.”

The warder takes Gabriel’s legs while the doctor grabs his arms. Gabriel begins to kick out, but he is powerless in the grip of these two men.

“Which bunk?” asks the doctor, who is now struggling to keep control of Gabriel’s flailing arms.

“It doesn’t matter. Stick him on the bottom.”

Gabriel continues to kick and wrestle, but they easily lift their malnourished patient onto the bottom bunk and the warder reaches into his pocket and pulls out four strips of rubber. He passes two to the doctor, and they begin to strap Gabriel to the frame of the bed.

“This should hold the bugger in place,” says the warder. He gestures, with his head, towards Said. “What about him?”

The doctor pulls his final knot tight and then takes a step back. He begins to slip his jacket back on.

“They should be here for the body before too long. But who knows.”

A terrified Gabriel watches as the doctor opens his bag and pulls out a syringe and long needle.

“Don’t tell me,” says the warder. “Cutbacks, right?”

“There’s just not enough ambulances. In some boroughs they’re using private cars.”

The doctor sits on the edge of the narrow bed and focuses on Gabriel.

“This won’t hurt, but you’ll feel a slight scratch.”

Gabriel squirms as the needle comes closer to his arm, and then he flinches as it breaks his skin. Finally the doctor pulls out the needle, places it in a plastic pouch, and then gets to his feet. Gabriel watches as the man picks up his bag, steps around Said, and then leaves the cell without saying another word. The warder seems somewhat surprised by the abruptness of the doctor’s exit, and he hurries after him, first slamming and then locking the cell door.

Gabriel begins to feel warm. He wants to rub his nose, but his hands are tightly bound. He feels a low sigh leave his body, and then he cranes back his neck and looks at Said. Gabriel concentrates hard and stares at his friend, whose own eyes are firmly closed.

Gabriel watches from the cupboard and tries not to breathe. First they will shoot Gabriel’s ageing father. He looks at his father’s tired face, his confidence polluted by the ordeal of having to protect his family during the prolonged absence of his adult son. They laugh as they make the old man lie flat on the ground with his arms spread out to his sides as though they are wings. There are six soldiers dressed in khaki fatigues with red bandannas around their heads. Gabriel soon learns that they all have nicknames. “Cassius.” “Jacko.” “O. J.” “Brutus.” “Big Dog.” “Smokin’ Joe.” But, unlike Gabriel, they are young men. Boys. As the bullets hit Gabriel’s father he jumps, but he does not fly.

Now they line up the rest of the family. “Big Dog” kicks Gabriel’s father until he cries out in pain. He is still alive. “Big Dog” asks him if he will not beg for mercy, like a man? Does he not love his family enough to beg for their lives? Gabriel understands that this is sport. The boys are playing with his father, and then “Smokin’ Joe” puts his gun to the back of Gabriel’s father’s head. While the others continue to laugh and taunt his father, “Smokin’ Joe” casually pulls the trigger and the skull explodes. Small pieces of brain fly in all directions, and Gabriel’s mother and two sisters begin to scream. “Big Dog” shouts in a fake American accent, and admonishes “Smokin’ Joe” for spoiling the party.

“How can you do this, man? Nobody gave you the order to shoot.”

Gabriel’s mother and sisters throw themselves across the body of the dead man. Gabriel is used to the sound of gunfire. The brutality is familiar to him. He looks on without emotion for he knows what is to come. “Smokin’ Joe” raises his voice, and as he does so he appears to grow in stature.

“Fuck you, man. This is business. I don’t have time for no games.”

The shouting among the men becomes louder, and then “Brutus” quietly steps forward and drags Gabriel’s mother and two sisters from the father’s body, and he forces them to lie face down on the floor. “Brutus” unclips his pistol and pumps a single bullet into the back of both sisters. He turns to his colleagues, but nobody dares to offer a dissenting voice.

“Are you all happy now?” They look somewhat sheepishly at “Brutus.” Authority has been restored. “We are not here to argue.” “Brutus” points with his pistol towards the two bleeding girls. “You want your food, then turn them over and take it. But be quick.” “Brutus” knows that the men are not interested in the mother.

“Jacko” is the last to mount the younger sister, but by now “Brutus” is losing patience. He claps his hands. “Enough.” “Jacko” clambers to his feet, and rearranges himself. His colleagues look on and laugh as “Jacko” struggles to make himself appear decent. Gabriel can see that his youngest sister has a thin ribbon of blood running down the inside of her leg, which pools near her ankle. She also appears to have lost consciousness.

“Finish them off,” says “Brutus,” pointing to the sisters, “but you can leave the old woman. She is no use to anybody.”

Two bullets from “O. J.,” the smallest of the soldiers, drum into each girl’s forehead. And then, as an afterthought, “O. J.” shoots Gabriel’s mother in the chest. An irritated “Brutus” shakes his head. The boys laugh raucously, but “Brutus” has seen enough.

“Come, let us go.”

As they leave, each man spits.

As darkness falls, Gabriel realises that he cannot stay hidden for much longer. He listens to the high-pitched chorus of insects, and in the distance he is able to discern the occasional human voice and the frequent staccato of gunfire. Gabriel knows that he will have to make the effort to leave this place, and so he opens the cupboard door and steps carefully into the darkness of the room. His legs and arms are stiff, and he walks with great difficulty. He stands over his mother, and although she is bleeding profusely he can see that she is still alive. She breathes loudly, as though her lungs are filled with sand, but Gabriel dare not remain with her for too long. He crosses to the door and slowly opens it, but there is no moon and the few stars in the sky give off little light. For a moment Gabriel hesitates, and then he begins to run. Out of the corners of his eyes he sees people huddled in doorways and lurking in shadow, but no voice is raised ordering him to stop, and no shot is fired.

Gabriel arrives at his uncle’s house and discovers that everything is shrouded in darkness. He waits at the back door and tries to catch his breath, but his chest continues to heave. Gabriel imagines that his uncle is inside, but anything could have happened. As his breathing returns to normal, he places his head against the cold stone wall to calm himself down. The wall is pock-marked with bullet holes as though some giant bird has furiously pecked at the masonry in a desperate attempt to find a weak spot. Gabriel stands back upright and then he wraps his palm around the door handle and quietly turns it. He closes the door behind him and then, in the darkness, he reaches for the banister and edges forward until he can feel the first step of the wooden staircase. As he puts his full weight upon the stair, it fires off a volley of snapping sounds which causes his heart to leap. Gabriel hovers on this lowest stair and then decides to climb quickly, ignoring the sounds. He remains light on his feet, but he knows that people must be able to hear him. At the top of the stairs, he gropes his way towards the door in front of him, but he already understands that this door will be firmly barred.

“Joshua?” he whispers, but there is no answer. The cloying night heat is beginning to overpower Gabriel, and he can feel his head spinning. He calls again, “Joshua?”

And then, from behind the door, he hears Joshua’s whispered voice.

“Who is it?”

“Gabriel. I am here by myself.” There is a momentary pause, and then Joshua opens the door a few inches.

“Gabriel?” He opens the door a little more, and now Gabriel can clearly see his uncle’s face. He is a dark-skinned man in his late fifties, with a short-cropped mesh of grey hair. His uncle’s teeth are slightly too large for his mouth, and he has a tendency to lift a hand to his mouth before speaking. And, true to form, he lifts his hand. Joshua glances quickly all about himself and then whispers, “Come in, come in.”

As Gabriel squeezes past Joshua he can see that this small storage room at the top of his uncle’s warehouse has been transformed into an eerie chamber of light and shadow by small stubs of candle whose flames flicker in the fetid gloom. Scattered about the room are a dozen or so men who squat on the floor, some with their heads held in their hands, others with heads thrown back against the wall. In the corner there is a single bucket for bathing, and another, somewhat filthier, bucket for the men to relieve themselves in. Joshua closes the door behind his nephew and then turns to face him.

“Gabriel, why are you here?”

Gabriel looks at the older man, but the words will not come. He feels his lower lip begin to tremble, and then the pain of what he has just witnessed begins to rise through his body. Joshua places his hand on Gabriel’s shoulder and encourages him to sit. They both squat beside the door, and Joshua decides to wait a few moments until his nephew has regained his composure. Gabriel stares intently at the space between his feet, and as the silence deepens, Joshua realises that the situation is his to repair.

“Did they find your family?”

Gabriel looks up at Joshua.

“They were not hiding.”

“Gabriel, did they kill everybody?” Gabriel ignores the question, but he knows that through the gloom Joshua will be able to see that tears are now streaming down his face. “Gabriel, you must tell me. Did they kill everybody?” Gabriel shakes his head. “Your mother?” Gabriel shakes his head. “But everybody else, is that it?” Gabriel nods quickly. “And your mother, where is she?”

“At the house.” Gabriel wipes his tears with the back of his hand.

“Gabriel, what will you do? They say you massacred innocent women and children, and then ran away. You know they will keep looking for you.”

“I did nothing wrong, but I know I have to leave this country. If I stay here they will kill me.”

Joshua nods, and under his breath he speaks to himself. “You know, Gabriel, how can God ever forgive us for this shameful situation?” Gabriel looks at his uncle, who is temporarily lost in his own thoughts.

A few moments later Joshua climbs slowly to his feet. Gabriel watches him, and then he also stands. A weary Joshua takes his sister’s man-child by the shoulder and he gestures to the other men in the room. He speaks in a whisper.

“Blood is blood, Gabriel. I want nothing more than to take you in as family, but these men have all paid two thousand dollars to leave. They have sold everything that they have.”

“But I must leave,” protests Gabriel. “This is not my home any more.”

Joshua stares at his nephew, but he knows that words are all that Gabriel has to offer.

“Gabriel, if you can bring me two thousand dollars then you too will be leaving. But you have only a few hours. This is all that I can do for you.”

Gabriel looks at his uncle. He understands that Joshua is both accepting him and rejecting him at the same time. And then Gabriel glances at the other men in the room, all of whom are staring back at him. Gabriel averts his guilty eyes and concentrates on the dark water stains on the walls, where mould is growing and forming strange shapes and patterns. He knows that it will be impossible for him to travel with these men unless he does so on equal terms.

As Gabriel steps into the street he senses that dawn will soon break. The sky is still black, but buildings are beginning to recover an outline, and the noises of animals stirring and cocks crowing are a herald of what is to come. Gabriel walks quickly, but without fear, for he knows that the government soldiers prefer to operate under the cover of darkness. He passes a man who is wrapped in the national flag and pushing a wheelbarrow in which there is a computer. And then, in the distance, he sees a government soldier whose arm is held in a sling and whose legs are swaddled in blood-stained bandages, but he knows that this man will not trouble him. The lamps that line the street do not work, and until the city has regained electricity the street lamps will remain as mere ornaments. Gabriel passes by the city’s one luxury hotel. Even at this distance he can smell the rotting carpets, and peering through the wire fence he can see beer bottles and furniture floating in the stagnant water that fills the swimming pool.

When Gabriel reaches the shop he sees that the shutters to the hardware store are already open and his friend is in the process of displaying, on a table outside the door, what little stock he has left. Ill-matching saucepans, metal pails, batteries, garish neon torches; once upon a time Felix’s store was the place to come if you wanted any household or electrical item. If Felix did not have it, then it did not exist in the country, but Gabriel can see that since the onset of the war his former employer’s stock has been severely depleted. Gabriel walks towards his elderly friend who, although a member of the ruling tribe, has never displayed any prejudice against those, like Gabriel, whose blood marks them off as the nominal enemy. As Gabriel moves closer, Felix looks up and then sets down the pile of white crockery that he is holding. He stares at Gabriel as though looking at a ghost, and then a small smile creeps across his weather-beaten face and he lets out a short laugh of astonishment.

“Gabriel? It’s really you?” Felix holds his hands out in a gesture of disbelief. “Gabriel?”

Gabriel smiles now and takes Felix’s small hands in his own.

“But Gabriel, I heard they were looking for your family.” Then Felix remembers himself. “Come inside, come inside. You really should not be out on the streets.”

Gabriel hesitates. “Please, I do not wish to cause any trouble.”

Felix hooks his arm through Gabriel’s and pulls the younger man through the door.

“First, we have to find a place to hide you.”

“But your wife and daughter, they still live upstairs?”

Felix looks puzzled. “Of course.”

Gabriel is crestfallen. “Felix, I must go. I cannot put your family in danger. It is only a matter of time before they come here and search your place.”

“Gabriel, they have already been.” Felix laughs and shows Gabriel the bruises on his arms and the scars on his legs.

“Felix?” Gabriel speaks slowly now, but the one word hangs foolishly in the air.

Felix raises both eyebrows, urging his young friend to continue.

“Felix, I need some money. I am sorry that I have to ask you.”

Felix says nothing, and so a nervous Gabriel continues.

“I must leave the country. If I pay him, my uncle will arrange it.”

Felix puts a finger to his lips and he glances upwards. Gabriel understands that he must lower his voice.

“I am sorry.”

They stare at each other, but neither man says a word. And then, after what seems to Gabriel an age, his former employer nods, having reached a conclusion to whatever private debate he was conducting.

“Please wait here.”

Gabriel feels Felix’s hand on his shoulder, and then his friend disappears downstairs and into the basement. Gabriel knows that Felix keeps his money in a metal box that he hides beneath three loose floorboards, and he knows also that Felix scatters dirt on top of the boards to make it look as though the filthy basement contains nothing of any value. Moments later, Felix returns with his right fist tightly clenched. The nervous man slowly opens his heavily veined hand, and he reveals a small bundle of United States dollars.

“I am not a wealthy man, Gabriel. I have a wife and child, and I know that soon I will lose what is left of this shop, but please take this money.”

Gabriel takes the few notes from Felix’s proffered hand, and he pushes them into his pocket.

“Perhaps your uncle will sympathise with your situation.”

Gabriel nods, and he watches as Felix turns and nervously scans the street. Gabriel knows that he will have to act quickly, and so in one swift movement he picks up the rusting metal clock that hangs behind the door and he brings down its full weight onto the head of Felix. His friend lets out a stunned cry, but it is the noise of Felix’s body as it hits the wall and then buckles to the floor that alarms Gabriel. He tries not to look at his former employer as he quickly steps over him and then through the door which leads to the stairs.

Downstairs it is dark, but Gabriel knows exactly where to go and he rushes to the far corner of the empty basement. In the old days, when he worked for Felix, the place was crammed so full of supplies that it was often difficult to move down here. But now there is nothing at all. Gabriel kicks away the dirt with the outside of his foot and then he quickly pulls up the three boards so that the box is exposed. Gabriel grabs the box, but he sees that it is secured with a heavy padlock. It had not occurred to him that Felix would keep the box locked, but he has little time to ponder on this. He runs back upstairs and fishes in Felix’s trouser pockets for his keys and then, having found them, he rushes back downstairs. When Gabriel opens the box he sees a thick pile of dollar bills and his hands begin to shake. He grabs the bills, and the two gold rings that are inside, and he pushes them into his pocket. Then Gabriel throws down the keys, and the box, and he leaves everything in disarray. There is no reason to cover his tracks. He runs to the stairs and then up and into the shop, where he notices that the pool of blood around Felix’s head is blossoming.

Gabriel cracks the door open, but he waits for a moment before stepping out and into the street. There is a strange man on the corner who is looking in his direction, and he decides to wait until this man moves off. However, this man continues to stare at Gabriel and he shows no sign of moving on his way. In fact, the man begins now to walk towards the shop, and when he reaches Gabriel he pushes open the door and stares at the wounded figure of Felix.

“What has happened here?”

Gabriel looks at Felix as though this is the first time that he has noticed his bleeding friend, but the man is now angry.

“I know who you are. What have you done to him?”

Gabriel realises that there is little that he can say, so he steps into the street and begins to walk off, all the while looking over his shoulder. When the strange man begins to shout, Gabriel increases his pace and then he breaks into a panic-stricken run.

Eventually Gabriel turns into Joshua’s street, where he once more slows to a walk, and he tries to compose himself. He climbs the stairs without any consideration of the noise that he is making, and when he reaches the storeroom he bangs quietly, but firmly, on the door and it opens before him. Joshua looks at Gabriel as though he is gazing upon a crazy man. Once they are safely inside the candlelit room, the older man turns to face his nephew.

“You are covered in sweat, and what is this? Blood?”

“I have your money.” Gabriel pushes his hand deep into his trouser pocket and he produces the crumpled notes. Joshua takes the money, but he neither counts it, nor does he take his eyes from his nephew’s face.

“Gabriel, you must tell me what you have done.”

Gabriel can see that the eyes of the other men in the room are once again upon him.

“Please, Joshua. I have the money.”

Joshua looks to the money and begins to count the notes.

“Gabriel, this is not two thousand dollars.”

Gabriel puts his hand into his pocket and pulls out the two gold rings.

“I have nothing else.” Gabriel presses the rings upon Joshua and resigns himself to his fate, but his uncle simply points to a corner of the dark room.

“Try to get some sleep. We will leave tonight.”

Gabriel nods.

A hand pushes Gabriel’s shoulder. He opens his eyes and sees Joshua bent over him. Beyond Joshua, Gabriel can see that the other men in the room are standing by the door clutching their bundles of belongings. The heat in the room suggests night. Gabriel rubs his eyes and climbs slowly to his feet.

“We have to go now. Are you all right?”

Gabriel shakes his head quickly as though trying to clear his mind. “Yes,” he says. “I am ready.”

Joshua turns from his nephew and addresses the group in a barely audible whisper. He instructs them to wait while he goes outside to check that everything is all right. He closes the door behind him and leaves the men alone in the candlelit room. The exhausted men look quizzically at each other, but nobody dares to speak. And then Joshua bursts back into the room and orders everybody to follow him. One after another the men tumble down the stairs, and as they run into the night they can hear the bursts of gunfire in the distance. Joshua points to a truck, and orders the men to quickly throw in their belongings and then climb up and into the vehicle.

“Lie down flat and be quiet.”

Gabriel is the last man to climb in, and no sooner has he found a small space in which to lie than he feels the oppressive weight of a heavy tarpaulin being tossed over him and tightly secured to the sides of the truck. As the engine roars to life, Gabriel realises that, trussed as they are like cargo, this first part of their journey is not going to be pleasant. He can feel the dampness of other men’s perspiring bodies, and it is not possible to distinguish whose arm or leg is pressing up against him. As the truck sets off through the narrow streets of the town, it sways first one way and then the other before the engine strikes a regular tone, which informs Gabriel that they must now be on the highway. Tiredness begins to conquer his body, but his fatigued mind is suddenly shipwrecked against images of his mother and poor Felix. Gabriel knows that if he is going to live again then he will have to learn to banish all thoughts of his past existence. There can be no sentiment. Hurtling blindly down this highway, he knows that if he is lucky the past will soon be truly past, and that with every gasp of the acrid air beneath the heavy tarpaulin, life is taking him beyond this nightmare and to a new place and a new beginning.

Gabriel opens his eyes. There is a putrid smell in the air. He tries to move his hands, but both his hands and his feet are strapped down and he cannot move. Above him there is another bed that acts like an artificial ceiling. His head feels light on his shoulders and Gabriel wonders how long he has been asleep. And then he remembers the tall, thin doctor and the needle, and being lifted onto this bed, and Said lying on the floor and nobody coming to help him. Gabriel looks out of the corner of his eye and he can see that they have removed the body of his friend, but the smell remains. Gabriel coughs, but immediately he feels a rasping dryness in his throat and he calls out.

“Please, I need some water.” His voice is surprisingly weak. The man in the next cell shouts back at him.

“Shut your mouth, scum.”

Gabriel waits a while, but after a few moments his thirst gets the better of him.

“Please, I need water.”

Gabriel can hear the television set in the distance, and he knows that the night warder will have his feet up on the desk. He also knows that the difficult man will only stir himself when the noise of Gabriel’s demands becomes too loud for him to concentrate properly. Gabriel closes his eyes and tries to ignore his thirst, but after a few minutes he hears the door to his cell being opened and he turns his head and sees the night warder holding a metal tray of food. The man puts the tray down, and as he does so he spills some of the weak tea out of the plastic cup. He leans over and begins to untie Gabriel.

“Bit bloody ripe in here, isn’t it?” The night warder stands back and watches as Gabriel rubs his wrists and ankles to make sure that the blood is flowing properly through them.

“I’ll come back for the tray when you’re done with it.”

Gabriel sits on the edge of the bed, but he waits until the man has left the cell before leaning over and picking up the tray and placing it on his knees.

“You fucking animal. I don’t know why they bother to feed you.”

Gabriel ignores the man and he begins to stuff the white bread and jam into his mouth as quickly as he can. Soon all of the food is gone and Gabriel is no longer hungry, but a raging thirst still causes his throat to burn. Gabriel finishes the tea and then slowly stands and crosses to the door of the cell. Once there, he looks down the corridor and sees the back of the television set and the man’s feet up on the desk.

“Please, Mr. Collins, some water.”

“Drink your own piss. Isn’t that what you lot do in the jungle?” The man next door begins to laugh at his own humour.

Gabriel says nothing and he simply focuses on the night warder’s feet, but they do not move. He watches the reflected light from the television set flickering against the wall, and then Gabriel turns from this strange cinema and climbs up onto the top bunk. He lies flat on his back, but then he realises that having been tied up like this he would prefer to adopt a different position. Gabriel rolls over onto his side, which somehow makes him feel less tense, and he faces the door to his cell so that if anybody tries to enter he will see them. However, having eaten, he once again feels tired, and so he closes his eyes, and soon his mind and body begin to feel heavy.

The heat of the day gives way to the noises of the night, but Gabriel is in pain, for his bladder is full and he is stiff with cold. When the truck finally stops, the dozen men are able to escape from beneath the tarpaulin. They climb to the ground, and as they relieve themselves they look around, but nobody seems to know exactly where they are. Once he has emptied himself, Gabriel sits with his uncle at the side of the dark road and stares at the star-speckled sky. Joshua asks his nephew if he has heard any voices of disquiet among the group, but Gabriel lets him know that despite the difficult conditions he has heard none of the men complain. The night-time stop lasts a little over an hour, and then as light begins to appear on the horizon, the men are once more shepherded onto the truck and the tarpaulin is pulled tightly into place. As the temperature begins to rise, and the blazing heat of the second day bears down upon them with full force, Gabriel cuts two holes in the tarpaulin so that air might pass through with greater ease. Having done so, he once more submits to the dull, uncomfortable rhythm of the journey.

Again day gives way to night, and just when Gabriel fears that the men will no longer be able to endure their confinement, the truck comes to an abrupt stop. Gabriel listens closely, and he can hear his uncle talking with men whose voices are charged with anger. After what seems an age, the tarpaulin is finally peeled back and the cargo is encouraged to step from the truck. Gabriel immediately realises that this stop marks the end of the first stage of their journey, for he can see that they are on the perimeter of an airfield. In the distance stands a large plane. Momentarily forgetting his hunger and his thirst, Gabriel stares blankly at the aircraft, for this is the first real evidence that he will be abandoning his country. He stretches his cramped limbs and looks across at his uncle, who is conversing with two men in military garb. Joshua says something to both men and then, as though late for an appointment, the men sprint to their jeep and begin to roar across the tarmac in the direction of the one-storey terminal building. Dust rises in their wake, and as they pass out of sight Joshua moves around to the back of the truck and prepares to address the men. Gabriel positions himself so that he is standing next to his uncle, and together with the rest of the men he waits to hear what their fate might be.

“The plane over there will take you to Europe.” Joshua lifts a weary arm and points. “However, we have to hurry for the aircraft must leave within one hour.”

Gabriel is surprised to hear himself speaking up.

“And what will happen to us when we reach Europe?”

Joshua turns to Gabriel, aware that his nephew has asked the question that most of them wish to have answered.

“I will tell you in Europe, for I am coming with you.”

Gabriel is helpless to prevent his mouth from falling open in astonishment. However, before he can ask any further questions, his uncle continues.

“When we reach Europe I will tell you of the next stage, and if you wish to follow me, then you must do so. But if you choose to go on your own, then I will respect your decision.”

For some moments Gabriel stares at his grey-haired uncle, and then the older man breaks the silence. He turns to the driver of the truck.

“Do we have more water?” The man nods, and Joshua continues. “Pass out the water, and after everybody has drunk their fill you must all return to the truck and we will leave.”

As the driver begins to pass round the gourd of water, Gabriel touches his uncle’s arm.

“Is everything all right?”

Joshua looks all about himself before answering.

“Gabriel, there has been another massacre. I cannot go back.”

“And your family?” asks Gabriel.

Joshua shakes his head and the two men stare at each other.

When the truck reaches the shadow of the plane, the dozen men climb down and wait eagerly on the tarmac. They huddle together, while all around them men with powerful guns shout instructions to each other in a language that Gabriel cannot understand. Joshua raises his voice in order to be heard.

“This way. We must hurry now.”

A flight of steps has been pushed up against the plane, and Joshua leads the way. At the top of the steps, Gabriel turns and looks down at the one-storey terminal building, and the dimly lit runway, and the dark bush that spreads out flat in every direction as far as the eye can see. And then a man pushes past him, and then another, and Gabriel realises that he should not linger. Once he is inside, Gabriel is surprised to see that there are already perhaps one hundred men and women who are seated on the floor with their backs to the wall of the plane. There are no seats, and to Gabriel’s eyes the interior looks like a large tubular warehouse. Those who have not been lucky enough to find wall space squat awkwardly.

From where he is sitting Gabriel is able to peer through one of the small round windows, but all he can see is blackness. The plane quickly levels out and the noise of the engines achieves a monotonous roar. Soon Gabriel begins to feel cold. He steals warmth from his uncle’s body, and he tries desperately to fall asleep, but each time he closes his eyes he feels compelled to open them again, for he knows that in order to stay warm he must concentrate. He notices a man to the side of him with one leg and an unwashed blue rag covering his stump. The man looks in pain, and his eyes are brimming with tears, but Gabriel looks away and imagines this plane cutting neatly through the clouds with the bush carpet, and then the sand carpet, and then the water carpet way down beneath them.

The loud jolt of the plane hitting the tarmac wakes Gabriel up, and he tumbles into his uncle’s lap. The runway lights race by, briefly illuminating the interior of the plane, and as Gabriel regains his balance it is clear to him that some of the women and men, including his uncle, appear to be sick. He gently pushes the older man, who speaks without opening his eyes.

“I’m fine, Gabriel. Everything is just fine.” But his uncle sounds weak.

Gabriel follows a frail Joshua down the steps and into the warm air. It is night time, and in the distance it is possible to see the bright lights of a great city. Once they reach the tarmac Gabriel is able to see that they are still some distance from the large terminal building, and should they be expected to walk, then he is sure that this task will prove too much for his uncle. An unshaven white man hands them a single paper cup of water, and the man is careful to make sure that they each receive only one cup. They gulp down their water and then hold their cups in their hands as though unsure of what to do next. Joshua’s group of a dozen men, who two days earlier began their journey under a tarpaulin in the back of a truck, stand together. As though obeying some unheard order, the other voyagers have reclaimed their natural groups, and they all stand idly in the shadow of the huge plane that has carried them out of Africa. Dust begins to rise, and Gabriel watches anxiously as a fleet of buses races towards them, but he remains unsure whether the buses are hostile or friendly.

Once the buses reach the terminal building the new immigrants are all ushered through a narrow door, on the other side of which are stationed men with guns who look upon them without respect. The air inside this building is stifling. Joshua leaves his dozen men and approaches a uniformed white man who appears to be in charge of the whole operation. Gabriel eyes his uncle closely and tries to guess what is happening, but it is only when Joshua returns, and gathers his men around him, that it becomes clear what the next stage will entail. Joshua holds a hand up to his mouth, and tells them that they are to be transferred to a room where they will be able to wash themselves, and then the same buses will take them to a place where they will make a short journey across some water in a boat. After this they will be in Europe proper, and then they will board a train to France and then on to England. Joshua reminds them that once they have crossed the water they are free to strike out on their own if they wish. Joshua pauses, but nobody speaks, and so he says that they must hurry because they must cross the water and board the train before the sun rises.

Gabriel barely has time to step out of his clothing and pile it onto a bench before a white man is shouting at him, and pushing and prodding his naked body into a powerful stream of icy water. Some men around Gabriel scream and rush to reclaim their clothes, while most seem grateful for the water and try to drink as much as possible. Gabriel runs quickly through the water and pulls on his clothes, despite the fact that his body is still dripping wet. As they pass through the city Gabriel looks out of the window and can see that the buildings are tall, but most of them are boarded up on the ground floor. On the higher floors, windows are open and curtains flutter in the breeze, but there is nobody to be seen. However, it is the neon glare from petrol stations, the signs in garish reds and greens, which catch Gabriel’s attention. The men stare at the lights, which seem to suggest festivity, but one by one they all tire and adopt the fatigued position of lowering their heads onto the back of the seat in front of them or into their sweating, cupped palms.

Gabriel had imagined that the bus journey would be a short one, but they seem to have been trundling into the night for ever. Through the window he can see that they are now travelling along narrow country roads, with only the occasional house on either side. An exhausted Joshua leans against his nephew, and his head bobs first one way and then the next, causing him to roll from side to side like a puppet. Although it makes him feel guilty to notice, Gabriel can smell Joshua’s unwashed body and he turns away from his poor uncle. As he does so the noise of the raucous engine begins to change, and the bus slows down and then pulls to a halt. Gabriel shakes Joshua, who wakes up with a start. He seems embarrassed that he has fallen asleep.

“Is this where we take the boat?”

His uncle rubs his eyes and stands up without answering Gabriel. He walks to the front of the bus to speak with the driver.

Gabriel continues to stare out of the window. He can see that there is a small pier and moored against the pier there is a boat. Far across the water he sees a low line of lights, which suggests that this is a very wide river. One by one his fellow travellers wake up, and then stretch, and then they too stare out of the window at the water, and at the land in the far distance. Gabriel turns his attention back to his uncle, who is still talking with the driver of the bus. The conversation is becoming increasingly loud, and then Joshua gesticulates angrily with both hands and walks back down the aisle. Once again he takes up his seat next to Gabriel, and then he turns to his nephew.

“We have to wait for other buses.”

Gabriel looks puzzled. “How long do we wait?”

“This is the problem,” says Joshua. “We do not know.”

“And what if the other buses do not arrive?”

Joshua ignores his nephew’s question.

Gabriel huddles next to his uncle in the boat as the cold wind whips off the water and stings their faces. He can see that the boat’s cumbersome engine is tracing a dull line in the moonlit water, a line that quickly disappears as the shallow swell erases all evidence of it. The heavily laden boat inches along with a laboured bearing, and Gabriel listens to the muted whisper of the water talking to itself. Out here on this night river that is full of the reflection of stars, the stiffening wind threatens to become spiteful and Gabriel feels a series of shivers course through his slender body. Above them the sky is beginning to relinquish its black pallor, but as yet there is no sign of dawn. Gabriel gazes ahead to the shoreline where the ribbon of lights moves ever closer, and then he hears the boat’s engines being cut and he feels the vessel beginning to drift. A barefoot boy jumps up on the prow of the boat and tosses a rope to some scruffy-looking men on the quayside whose cigarettes glow especially bright in the twilight. And then the boy disembarks. Gabriel’s eyes hurt, for his pupils feel as if they have shrunk so that they are now too small to hold the imminent daylight. However, as he looks around a sense of relief warms his empty stomach. This is Europe. Tired, hungry and disorientated, the weary migrants stumble ashore.

Joshua stands in the doorway to their cramped train compartment and explains to them all that under no circumstances are the plastic window screens to be raised. He then requests that Gabriel join him in the corridor. Gabriel is worried, for he is sure that he will now lose his coveted seat by the window, but Joshua waits patiently for his nephew to stand. Once they are in the corridor, Gabriel can see that stationed at either end of the carriage there is a uniformed man with a gun.

“Until we reach France, you will be in charge.” His uncle scratches furiously at his mesh of grey hair. “Nobody must move in or out, unless it is to use the toilet. And then only with your permission. The customs police have been paid, but they do not wish to see us.”

Gabriel nods. His uncle knows that he was a major in the rebel army, and Gabriel imagines that Joshua assumes that his nephew is therefore familiar with issuing orders and having men obey him. But Gabriel knows that issuing orders is one thing; having men obey you is something entirely different.

When Gabriel returns to the compartment he has to force himself down and into a new space for, as he suspected, his seat by the window has been taken and everybody has spread out and made themselves more comfortable. Gabriel explains that they will have to stay in this compartment for two, maybe three, days. Whenever the train stops they will not be allowed into the corridor, and under no circumstances are they to look out of the window. They listen to Gabriel, who tells them that they will be passing through Italy before they reach France, and that when they reach France it will be a relatively short journey to England. Everybody listens intently, but Gabriel feels somewhat awkward in this new role of leader and so, having finished what he is expected to say, he soon falls silent.

Gabriel looks over at the young woman in the corner. She had been in one of the other groups, but had apparently found it difficult to understand everything that they were saying because she did not share the same language. When she heard Joshua’s group on the boat she realised that they might help her. Gabriel sneaks surreptitious glances at this quietly beautiful woman with large almond eyes, whose child is sleeping among the bundles of cloth that are swathed around her body. She looks up and catches Gabriel staring, and so he quickly lowers his eyes and listens intently to the sound of the train. Gabriel can feel his head beginning to roll about on his shoulders, but he continues to concentrate and think about what he will do once this journey is over and he has reached England. Some hours later Gabriel opens his eyes and he can see that his fellow passengers, with the exception of the woman, are now all asleep. She is breast-feeding her child, and when she feels Gabriel’s eyes upon her she looks up. Gabriel is momentarily embarrassed, but although he knows that the decent thing would be to look away, this time he continues to stare at her. To his surprise the woman ignores him.

In the morning, Gabriel eases himself out of his seat without waking the others, and he slides back the door and steps into the corridor. Through the partially shaded corridor windows he can see that the train is moving slowly through what appears to be pasture land. His uncle is seated on the floor with his back to the compartment, and, having cast a surreptitious glance at the uniformed men to his left and right, Gabriel takes a seat next to him.

“How much longer?”

“Suddenly you are impatient?” Gabriel says nothing, and so his uncle continues. “Are the men becoming restless, is that it?”

Gabriel glances behind him and whispers.

“What is the woman doing among us?”

Joshua smiles. “My nephew, everybody is leaving to go to a better place. Is she causing problems?”

“No, no.” Gabriel is quick to speak now. “I do not know what to think about the child.”

“Well, is the child your problem?”

“Of course not.”

Joshua chuckles under his breath.

“Gabriel, the woman would not be here among us if she did not know how to take care of herself and her child. Do not worry about her. We have enough troubles of our own.”

Gabriel turns to face his uncle. “What do you mean?”

“We are going only to Paris. These men say that if we wish to go to England, then we will have to do so by ourselves.”

“But we have paid our money for England. That is where they have to take us.”

Joshua shakes his head. “They say they can take us to a place on the coast of France, and then we can try to pass through the tunnel to England. But it is heavily guarded.”

“But the French will not give us papers.” Again Gabriel glances at the guards at either end of the corridor, and then he looks again to his uncle. “We cannot stay in France.”

“At least in France they will not kill us.”

Gabriel stares at his uncle and understands that their conversation is at an end. It is his responsibility to go back into the compartment and, when the time is right, tell the others. His uncle has closed his tired eyes, and his head is now beginning to fall towards his chest.

When Gabriel opens his eyes it is the afternoon and he realises that against his will he has slept. Everyone in the compartment is awake, although they are all clearly distressed with the heat. Gabriel looks at them and then decides that he should pass on to the group the news that his uncle entrusted to him. Having done so, some of the men begin to raise their voices, feeling understandably betrayed, but Gabriel encourages them to remain calm. He assures them that there are many Africans in Paris, and that they will find people who will help them. But Gabriel realises that most of them wish to go to England, and that nothing he says will assuage their sense of disappointment. The news that they are to be set down in France has triggered a volley of conversations, but the woman seems to have nothing to say. For the rest of the afternoon, as the train furrows its slow way across Europe, Gabriel steals glances at this beautiful woman and her child.

The man’s screaming startles Gabriel and he sits bolt upright.

“Take your fucking hands off of me.”

Gabriel blinks vigorously and looks all about himself. The noise from the cell next door suggests that a fight of some kind is in progress. There is a loud thud, and then once again the man cries out, but this time in a half-muffled scream as though somebody is stuffing a piece of cloth into his mouth.

“Bastards.”

Gabriel climbs down from the top bunk and moves to the bars of his cell. Two policemen are wrestling his neighbour down the corridor. Once the man has passed out of sight, Gabriel sits on the bottom bunk and hears his stomach begin to growl, so he gets up and goes again to the cell door and calls to the day warder.

“Please, I am hungry.” There is no answer, so he waits a few moments before calling again. “Please, I am hungry and I need water.” Almost immediately he hears a reply from the irritated warder.

“All right. I’ll sort you out in a minute, okay?”

Gabriel returns to his seat on the bottom bunk and contemplates the silence. He does not know this man as well as the night warder, but it worries Gabriel that this man harbours some silent resentment towards him. However, he understands that there is nothing that he can do about this, and so he continues to sit and he runs his tongue across his teeth. He craves a piece of chewing stick. Back home he liked to use his finger to pick out the bits of stick that got trapped in the gaps in his lower teeth, but it has been many days now since Gabriel has seen a piece of chewing stick. Gabriel looks up and sees the day warder holding a tray with one hand, and struggling to open the door with the other. He realises that even as he was shouting at the warder, the man must have had the tray ready to bring out to him. As the door opens, Gabriel levers himself to his feet, and he takes the tray and offers his thanks. The stocky warder nods slightly, as though to acknowledge that he has been shown some respect, and then he quickly retreats from view. Then, just when Gabriel has stuffed his mouth full of food, the warder reappears at the cell door. He looks at Gabriel as though studying an animal in a zoo, and then he finally speaks.

“You’ve got a visitor. You’d better come now.”

Gabriel puts the tray down on the bed and he hurriedly swallows his food. The warder waits until Gabriel is at the cell door before pointing to the tray.

“You can’t leave that there. You’ll have to give it back to me.”

“But I have taken only half of the food, and I have not finished my drink.”

“Tough. Either you stay here and finish it or you see your visitor. You can’t do both.”

Gabriel hovers uneasily.

“I don’t have all day,” hisses the warder.

Gabriel has little choice but to pick up the tray and carry it through the open door and into the corridor. The man bangs shut the door to the cell and locks it. As they move off, Gabriel gazes at the empty cell next door. Only the bottom bunk has been slept in, and the top bunk supports an undressed mattress. The door has not been locked back and it sits open-mouthed on its hinges. The warder looks at Gabriel and laughs.

“Want him back, do you?” He amuses himself with his own wit. “Bet you don’t half-miss him, right?”

Gabriel says nothing, but the warder continues to laugh to himself as he leads Gabriel past the television set that is perched on the edge of the desk.

“Here,” says the warder, pointing to a space on his desk. “Put it down there. You can grab the water if you like, but it’s the last you’ll see of that tray.”

Gabriel takes the plastic tumbler of water, swallows it in one and then wipes his mouth on the back of his sleeve.

“Please,” says Gabriel.

The warder stops and looks at him. “Don’t tell me,” he says, “you’ve changed your mind. You don’t want no visitors, is that it?”

“No, no.” Gabriel feels awkward. “It is my friend, Said, the man who was in the cell with me.” The warder waits for him to go on. “Perhaps I can contact his family? He asked me.”

The confused warder looks at Gabriel. “He asked you what?”

“He asked me if I could be in contact with his family. He was worried about them.” The warder shakes his head, but he says nothing. He opens up the door and ushers Gabriel into an empty room. “Please, what happened to Said?” The warder slams the door behind them.

“What happened to him?” the man laughs. “What the hell do you think happened to him? He died and they’ll soon be shoving him in the ground where he belongs.”

“But his family have to be told. That is what he wanted.”

The warder puts his palm on Gabriel’s chest and pushes him back against the wall.

“You think you have any right to know anything after what you’ve done?”

Gabriel looks the man in the eyes, and he speaks calmly and clearly.

“I am only saying to you that I am worried, for his family do not know what has happened.”

The warder raps his knuckles against Gabriel’s chest.

“You had better watch who you’re getting lippy with.”

They stare at each other and Gabriel decides to say nothing further, but he is not afraid. Not of this man.

“Do you want to see your visitor or have you changed your mind?”

“Yes, please, I want to see my visitor.”

The warder continues to stare at him.

“We’ve got a lot of things to work out, you and I, don’t we?” Gabriel stares back at the warder, who begins now to laugh. “You don’t understand the trouble you’re in, do you? Once they bang you up properly, your life will be hell, mate.”

The warder steps to one side and unlocks yet another door. As he pushes it open, Gabriel recognises the small woman who dresses in men’s trousers. She is sitting at a table with a man, and on top of the table there is a pile of papers. The warder changes his tone now that others can see them.

“Well, come on then, these people have been waiting here to see you.”

Gabriel edges past the warder and into the room. Katherine stands up and extends her hand, and as she does so her face suddenly brightens.

“Gabriel, what took you so long?” She does not wait for an answer. “This is Stuart Lewis, who will be your solicitor.”

The man stands and holds out his hand.

“Pleased to meet you, Gabriel. Stuart Lewis.”

The man is also short, and he wears a dark-blue suit and a bright-yellow tie. He looks like a schoolboy with his mousy hair and round spectacles, and Gabriel peers closely at him. He had been expecting an older, more intimidating man, and somehow this Stuart Lewis does not seem right. Gabriel shakes hands with the man and then he hears the door close behind him. He turns and sees the warder standing with his arms folded across his chest and staring into the middle distance. The woman notices that Gabriel seems perturbed by this and she places her hand on his shoulder.

“Gabriel, don’t worry. You must talk freely, and you must speak honestly and from the heart. If you do, then Stuart can help you with the charges.”

Stuart Lewis nods in agreement and then he sits down. The woman removes her hand and points to the chair on the other side of the table, and then she also sits.

“Take a seat, Gabriel, and let’s begin. I’m not sure how much time we have, but let’s try and get through as much as possible.”

Gabriel sits down and then Stuart Lewis leans forward and begins to speak.

“Gabriel, may I call you Gabriel?” Gabriel nods, and the lawyer smiles and then laughs. “Well, thank you. It doesn’t pay to assume too much unauthorised informality.”

Gabriel looks at the woman, who is also smiling, but her smile is etched somewhat less firmly to her face. He notices that today her short hair is pulled back and tied with a red band so that it doesn’t fall into her eyes.

“You see,” continues the lawyer, “I’m preparing the details of your case so that I can brief the barrister who will, in the fullness of time, represent you.”

Gabriel listens, but without really understanding a word of what is being said. He looks at the woman who continues to smile, as though reassuring Gabriel that he should not worry. Stuart Lewis hardly misses a beat.

“I have some questions to ask you, and you must answer as best you can. If you’re not sure about the question, just let me know. There’s no need to be frightened if you tell the truth.”

Gabriel nods, but he is suddenly aware that the eyes of the warder are on his back. The woman is quick to speak.

“Do you understand, Gabriel?”

Again Gabriel nods. Stuart Lewis glances at her, but she continues to address Gabriel.

“I’m just taking notes so that if everything goes well with this case, then I’ll be able to present the relevant facts to the immigration authorities. You don’t mind my taking notes, do you?”

Gabriel stares at the woman.

“You see, when they are making a judgement as to your suitability to remain in this country they’ll want to know everything. And this is a very serious case, which is why you will have to have Mr. Lewis plus another lawyer.”

Gabriel’s mouth is dry, but there is no water to drink. He peels open his lips, which feel as though they have been glued together.

“I am ready to answer any questions. I have nothing to hide.”

The woman is happy, and she nods and then turns and looks at the lawyer. Stuart Lewis pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose and then he coughs.

“Well, shall we make a start?” Gabriel watches as the man looks at his watch and then carefully writes down the date and the time. He then turns to the woman. “I’ll also be keeping full notes, so we can always cross-refer.” He turns back to Gabriel. “I’m afraid in situations like this it’s impossible for us to have our secretaries in here. We could tape-record the proceedings, but it’s never satisfactory. This being the case, it just means that it will take a while for us to go through everything and I may have to ask you to repeat some things, if you’ll bear with me.” Gabriel looks blankly at the man. “Right, then, let’s make a start. Do you know on what day you arrived in France?”

“I do not know. I was travelling for a long time.”

“We can make a guess,” says the woman. “I mean, by working backwards we can come up with a rough date.”

The man looks at the woman.

“I know, but I think we need to have the specifics for a criminal case.” He turns again to Gabriel. “So you have no idea whatsoever, is that it?”

Gabriel shakes his head.

“And how long were you in France, do you have any idea?”

“A few days.”

“I see.”

The lawyer writes on the pad and then speaks without looking up at Gabriel.

“And you would have no idea whether a few was three or four, or seven or eight, am I right?” Gabriel thinks for a moment.

“I am sorry. It was not always possible to be sure if it was day or if it was night.”

The lawyer continues to write, and again he speaks without looking up.

“I understand, Gabriel, but tomorrow I am going to have to present the best possible case for you, and so we’ll have to find some way of ascertaining these facts.”

The woman coughs as though eager to add something, and Stuart Lewis looks up at her. She speaks on cue.

“I’ve already been over some of this with Gabriel and it’s very hard for him because of the personal trauma he suffered just before his having to flee for his life.” The lawyer looks quizzically at her, so she continues. “You know, the massacre of Gabriel’s family. This has had a profound impact on his memory and his ability to absorb anything, let alone details such as dates and times. It really is very difficult for him at the moment.”

The lawyer waits patiently until she has finished, and then he leans back in his chair.

“I understand what you’re saying, Katherine, but I’m only trying to establish dates, not state of mind. I’ll come to that later.”

The woman nods and Gabriel looks from one to the other and can now sense the frustration that is flowing between them. It is apparent to Gabriel that this is not the first time that the two of them have argued, and he is sure that he is the source of their disagreement. Stuart Lewis turns his attention back to Gabriel. He taps his pen against the pad in front of him, and he speaks slowly.

“Now then, Gabriel. You don’t know what date you arrived in France? And you have no idea on what date you arrived here in Great Britain? Am I correct in my assumptions?”

Gabriel nods. Again, Katherine speaks up.

“As I keep telling you, Stuart, it’s impossible for Gabriel to know all of these things, but we can make an educated guess at most of the dates and move on. Nobody’s ever going to be able to verify them, are they? I mean, I’m not trying to tell you how to do your job, but shouldn’t we focus more on the situation with the girl in the time that we have left?”

Stuart Lewis glances at his watch and then returns his attention to Katherine.

“You know, I appreciate that you’re trying to help, but in criminal cases we need to do a lot more fact-checking than in civil litigation. So unless he can substantiate these dates for me, the case will, whether he likes it or not, be weaker.” Stuart Lewis ignores both Katherine and Gabriel and begins to write on his pad.

Gabriel watches the man making notes in his spidery hand, and then he looks across at the woman, who is also writing. As though wishing to draw attention to himself, Stuart Lewis flamboyantly underscores a passage from his own text with two heavy lines, and then puts down his pen and clasps his hands in front of him. The woman continues to write.

“Now then, Gabriel, I have to ask you some questions about the girl, do you understand?”

Gabriel nods, but he can feel thin streams of sweat beginning to trickle down the back of his neck.

“You do understand what I’m asking, don’t you?”

Again Gabriel nods.

“All right then. When did you first meet the girl?”

Gabriel hears the question, but his mind blocks it, like a boxer might parry a blow. He stares blankly at the lawyer.

“Gabriel, when did you first meet the girl, that’s all I need to know.”

Again Gabriel blocks the question. Katherine leans forward.

“Gabriel, you’ll have to answer the question in court so you may as well tell us. After all, we’re on your side.”

Gabriel looks at the woman and then lowers his eyes. Stuart Lewis takes this as a good sign and he rephrases the question.

“Gabriel, tell me when you first met the girl and what made you talk to her. That’s all I need to know at the moment. We can sort out the rest of it after I’ve got these details.” Gabriel looks up at the lawyer, but he says nothing. It is clear that this man is frustrated by Gabriel’s silence, but Gabriel cannot remember any details that might help him. He is sorry. The short-haired woman smiles at Gabriel, and then leans over and looks directly into his eyes.

“You must remember when you first saw her, Gabriel? That much must be clear to you?”

Gabriel looks blankly at her. He feels betrayed. Why is she no longer defending him?

“This is no use at all.” Stuart Lewis pushes the pad in front of him to one side. He snaps the top of his pen back into place and picks up his briefcase from the floor.

“Stuart, wait.” Katherine seems alarmed by this man’s willingness to abandon the interview so quickly. “We must give Gabriel a chance.” She turns now to Gabriel. “Gabriel, you remember her name at least. Surely you can remember that much?”

Gabriel looks at the woman, and slowly, as though suddenly realising that he can trust neither of them, he begins to shake his head. No, he cannot remember.

“You don’t remember her name?” asks an incredulous Katherine.

Gabriel looks at the papers that lie on the table in front of him. He wonders about the contents of these papers, and if it is possible that they all refer to him, or perhaps some of them are about other people? The lawyer speaks to Katherine.

“Katherine, it’s no good. If he wants to carry on in this manner, then he’ll just have to take his chances in court. But there’s not much that I’m going to be able to do to help him if he won’t help himself.” The lawyer begins to stuff the papers into his briefcase. He leaves the notepad until the very end, and then he clicks his briefcase shut. Stuart Lewis tucks his pen into his inside jacket pocket and then he stands. He speaks to Katherine in a resigned, but irritated, manner. “So, that’s it then. We take our chances in the morning, right?”

Katherine looks from Stuart Lewis to Gabriel, and then back to Stuart Lewis.

“You know, Stuart, just give me a few minutes alone with Gabriel. I won’t be long.”

The lawyer nods, and without saying anything further to Gabriel he walks towards the warder, who steps aside and unlocks the door. When Stuart Lewis has passed from view, the warder locks the door again and remains “on guard.” Katherine waits for a few moments and then she begins to speak.

“Gabriel, I know it’s difficult, but you’ve got to try, really you have.” Gabriel says nothing. The warder coughs.

“Five minutes, Miss. That’s all you’ve got left, I’m afraid.”

Katherine ignores the man.

“We’re talking about the girl, Gabriel. You do know who I’m talking about?”

Gabriel nods. He knows who she is talking about.

“But you don’t remember when you first saw her? Is that it?”

Gabriel speaks quietly. “It is difficult to remember everything. It all happened so quickly. I get confused.”

“Yes, of course you get confused. Who wouldn’t? But tomorrow you will be in a very difficult position if you cannot remember these things. Remember, you have no rights in this country and they can just throw you out. If the worst comes to the worst, you might have to go to prison for a very long time on these charges relating to the girl. Either way it’s not good for you. I’m sure that you can see this.”

“I understand.” Gabriel pauses, and then he continues. “Can you please send a letter to the family of the man who used to be with me in my cell. He asked me to help him before he left the earth and went to heaven.”

“He died? How did he die?”

“He died in the cell and they let him lie there on the floor like a dog.”

The woman looks up at the warder.

“Is this true? You left this man in a cell with a dead man?” Katherine glares at the warder. “Well, is this true?”

“You’ll have to speak to the boss. None of my business. Anyhow, your time’s up, Miss. I’m afraid you’ll have to go now.”

The woman turns back to Gabriel. As she stands up she straightens her trousers. “I’ll look into this, and if there’s any way of contacting his family I’ll let you know.”

Gabriel gets to his feet.

“He asked me to inform his brother. I promised Said that I would do this for him.”

The woman reaches up and places a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder.

“Get a good night’s rest and I’ll see you in the morning. And try to remember anything that you can about the girl. The more you remember, the better it will be for you. Stuart may be a little blunt, but he’s your best hope.” Gabriel nods. “Think about it, Gabriel. You must remember something about the girl. Anything will help.”

The warder takes a step forward.

“I’m sorry, Miss, but you’re already way beyond your time.”

Katherine picks up her bag and hooks it over her shoulder.

“Until tomorrow, Gabriel.”

The warder points to Gabriel.

“You can sit down there and wait. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Gabriel listens as the door is unlocked and then locked back again. He sits alone in the room and looks at the empty table. He knows that at some point in the future he will probably have to start to remember about the girl, but he is not ready. Not yet.

During the day there is a thin strip of light at the edge of the plastic window screens, but at the moment everything is black. Everybody in the compartment is asleep apart from Amma, who takes this opportunity to feed her child without having to endure the heavy scrutiny of men’s eyes. Gabriel speaks to her in a whisper, repeating the same plea that he has been making in a variety of ways for much of the past hour.

“But you must try and reach England. They are friendly and will give you food and shelter. We are not welcome in France. I will help you.”

Amma listens and then she looks at her child. She speaks without raising her eyes.

“I do not wish to be a burden to anybody. My husband told me that if they kill him, then I must learn to be by myself. I must trust nobody.”

Gabriel reaches into the pocket of his jacket and offers her a piece of bread that he has hidden there. Amma takes the bread and thanks him. Gabriel watches as she breaks off a small piece, then carefully breaks the small piece into even smaller pieces and feeds them to her child.

The door slides open and Joshua’s exhausted face is suddenly staring at them. Gabriel understands and he climbs slowly to his feet. He tries not to disturb any of the other men as he slips out into the corridor, and he carefully closes the door behind him. The uniformed men still stand guard at either end of the carriage, but they ignore Gabriel and his uncle.

“Is everything all right?” asks Gabriel.

“We will be in Paris within an hour. The train will stop just outside of the station and everybody must get off. For those who want to go to England, there will be a bus that will take them as far as the tunnel.”

“And what happens then?”

“They keep telling me that it is possible to go to England. That is all that I know.” Joshua pauses, and then he lowers his eyes. “I will not be coming with you. Another journey, and this time without these men.” Joshua glances down the corridor and then shakes his head. “It is too much for me.”

Gabriel stares at the older man, but he knows that it would be disrespectful to argue with an elder.

“Do not say anything, my nephew. Go back inside and get ready. Everything will be fine.”

But Gabriel already knows that for many of them everything will not be fine. In the past few days his uncle has aged many years, and Gabriel feels as though he too has added considerably to his thirty years. Despite his uncle’s assurances, Gabriel knows that in many ways their journey is only now beginning. And only the strongest among them will survive.

When the train stops, Gabriel opens his eyes. He listens to the thunder of footsteps as people rush by in the corridor, and then he hears a knock on the door and once again his uncle’s tired face appears in the doorway. Gabriel jumps to his feet and then everybody stands and begins to gather their belongings about them. Gabriel positions himself closest to the door, but Joshua blocks their path into the corridor. A constant stream of men flows past them, and then one of the uniformed guards appears and bellows at Joshua.

“Now!”

Joshua steps to one side, and Gabriel follows the uniformed man the full length of the train corridor, through the open train door, down onto a metal step, and then he makes a short leap onto the dirt below. Gabriel dusts himself off and then stands to one side ready to catch those who will jump after him. One by one they jump, until Amma appears. Gabriel reaches up his hands for the child, whom she passes to him, and then she leaps and pitches forward, but two of the men catch her. After Amma there is only Joshua, who looks around before edging his way down onto the step, all the while clutching the hand rail. Joshua looks directly at his nephew and then jumps. Gabriel moves forward to pick him up, but Joshua is already climbing to his unsteady feet and dusting himself off. Joshua points towards a man with a rifle slung over one shoulder.

“If you wish to go to England, then you must go with that man.”

Without bidding farewell to his nephew, Joshua begins to half-limp, half-run towards an embankment, and then he slithers over the edge and disappears from view. In the distance Gabriel can see a wide ocean of lights, and he realises that this must be Paris. Amma waits patiently for Gabriel to either move towards the man with the rifle or say something, but Gabriel remains silent. Somewhere in the pit of his stomach Gabriel knows that should he fail in his efforts to reach England, then there might yet be an attempt to lose himself among these lights.

Three hours later the bus stops for the first time. Gabriel rubs his eyes, but having found it impossible to achieve any sleep he has been simply drifting in and out of consciousness. However, the others on the bus have not only been sleeping, but most of them remain asleep. Gabriel looks at Amma, who lies sprawled on the back seat of the bus, her child so tightly wrapped up in the folds of her dress that it is impossible to see him. He wishes that he had some water to offer to her, but his thoughts are interrupted by the driver, who stands and opens the door and then turns around and stares at his two dozen passengers. He claps his hands and begins to shout, achieving his desired effect of startling everybody. Then he claps his hands again and redoubles his shouting. This time he points into what Gabriel can now see is the twilight that precedes dawn. “Go! Go!” Clearly this is his only word of English and he is using it with vigour. Those at the front of the bus begin to stand and leave. Gabriel makes sure that Amma is awake, and then he stumbles down the aisle. Once they have all alighted, the bus pulls quickly away and they now realise that they have been set adrift in the French countryside. Gabriel looks around and sees that to either side of them are wheat fields, and before them lies a narrow country road which quickly disappears into a tight bend. His fellow travellers look helplessly at each other, but as the sky brightens it is clear to Gabriel that in the field beyond the one to their left, there is a cluster of tents and he can also see plumes of smoke twisting into the air.

Gabriel scans the fatigued group, which contains many whose faces and languages are new to him, and he can see that these people appear to have adopted him as their leader. Despite his desire to protect Amma, he is reluctant to formalise this arrangement, and he therefore decides to move off in the direction of the tents without saying anything to any of them. He clambers through a gap in the hedge, holding back the branches between finger and thumb so that he will not be injured on the spikes, and then he steps into the first field. Now that it is brighter he can see that this brown field, and all the fields around him, are the colour of stale blood. The ground is damp underfoot, as though it has been recently raining, but it is only when Gabriel is halfway across the field that he decides to turn around and see if the people are following him. One by one they have made their way through the gap in the hedge and into the muddy field, and like a band of pilgrims they are strung out, one behind the other, with Gabriel at their head.

When Gabriel reaches the far side of the field he passes through another gap, one which he finds easier to squeeze through, for there are no thorns or brambles blocking its entrance. He sees a man in a white coat and black boots striding towards him across the muddy expanse. The man seems to be neither angry nor hostile, and Gabriel immediately senses that he is some kind of official. When he reaches Gabriel he speaks slowly, but Gabriel knows that this man’s English is not the English of an Englishman.

“How many are you?”

Gabriel looks behind him. “I am not sure.”

“And of course, the men who dropped you on the road, they are gone, yes?”

Gabriel nods.

“Are there more of you?”

Gabriel is not sure what the man means, and so he hesitates.

“Are there more of you in France?”

“Yes, in Paris.”

“Many? One hundred? Two hundred?”

“No, no.” Gabriel is adamant. “Perhaps one hundred, but they are not coming here.”

The man sighs loudly. “Well, I am happy. The truth is we can take no more. It will be difficult with this many of you.”

Gabriel says nothing, and together with the man he waits until the whole group gathers together. The man then leads them towards a large tent which seems to be unstable in the light breeze. The flaps at its entrance are blowing noisily, but the man takes little notice of this. He escorts them inside and points to the empty cots in the far corner.

“Some people left last night and I doubt if they will be coming back. Please rest, and later there will be food.”

Gabriel looks around at the scene of lethargic misery, and he can see others in the tent who either lie on the cots or sit cross-legged on the floor. These sullen people look up at the new migrants as though keen to understand the mystery of their origins. Gabriel turns his attention from their prying eyes to the recently vacated cots. These flimsy canvas beds, set atop thin metal frames, look hardly fit to bear the weight of a grown person. Gabriel walks over to Amma and leads her to the first cot, which he discovers to be surprisingly sturdy. Most of the others move slowly, but a few of the men appear to be squabbling and they make a desperate rush to secure a place for themselves. Gabriel says nothing, but he makes clear his displeasure by the manner in which he stares at these men. And then he looks again at Amma, and he sees that she has already discovered a coarse-looking blanket and is lying down curled around her child. Gabriel lies down on the cot next to her, but as he closes his eyes and prepares to sleep he hears a noise to the side of the cot. He opens his eyes quickly, and sees a man with thick glasses and bushy hair standing over him.

“Please, listen.” The man’s eyes dart around in his head as he speaks. “I take you to England, but you decide quickly. I can take only three.”

Gabriel sits up and looks at this man in disbelief. He assumes him to be French, for he speaks with the same accent as the man who led them into the camp, but there is a wild energy about this man’s speech and his gestures.

“I come for you tonight after dark. In this place we live for the night.”

Gabriel continues to look at the man and he wonders why he has chosen him.

“Of course, I need money from you.”

“I have no money.”

“I have money.” Amma’s voice is quiet but firm.

The man turns to look at her and he speaks quickly. “I need two hundred United States dollars from each person.”

Gabriel looks at the child.

“But nothing for the child.”

“The two of you and the child, four hundred dollars.”

Gabriel looks at Amma, and then he turns back to the man.

“Please, allow us a few minutes to talk.”

“It is a good price,” says the man. “You make a new life, new friends, and forget your stinking country. In England everything is given to you. Food, clothes, house. You live like a king.”

Gabriel repeats himself. “Please, a few minutes.”

The man shrugs his shoulders, then turns and walks reluctantly to the entrance of the tent. Amma speaks first.

“You are angry with this man, is that it?”

Gabriel shakes his head. “No, but I cannot accept any money from you. You must save it for yourself and your child. I will find my own way of getting to England and I will meet you there.”

“Are you sure?”

“I will come with you tonight and make sure that this man does not cheat you.”

The impatient man returns, as though on cue.

“Well?”

“Just the woman and the child.”

The man seems unconcerned, and he now squints at Amma as though he is having difficulty focusing his eyes.

“I come for you after dark. If you have identity papers, please lose them so they cannot send you back to where you are from. And wear many clothes, for sometimes it is cold.” With this said the man turns and walks quickly out of the tent.

As the light begins to fade fast from the sky, Gabriel and Amma follow the guide towards the entrance to the camp. Gabriel notices two men with short, cropped hair and stubbled faces standing by the makeshift wooden gates, and as they reach the gates the guide stops. In the evening gloom he speaks a few hurried words with the men, and then he points at Amma, and Gabriel understands that these men are being told that Amma is to be their travelling companion. On receiving this news, the men begin to gesticulate and they eye Gabriel and Amma with barely disguised disgust. The guide returns to Gabriel and Amma.

“Filthy gypsies. Now we go to the train, but I must have money.”

Amma reaches into her clothes and hands the man some crumpled twenty-dollar bills, which he carefully counts and then tucks into his pocket. Gabriel looks angrily at the bushy-haired guide, for he neither seems grateful, nor does he appear to understand what it has probably cost a woman like Amma to acquire such a sum of money. Amma, sensing Gabriel’s rising anger, simply puts her hand on Gabriel’s arm.

Gabriel and Amma follow the three men out of the camp and down a deserted narrow lane where the hedgerows have cut off any possibility of a view, which makes Gabriel feel as though they are walking through a long tunnel without a roof. Night is beginning to fall and Gabriel tries to memorise the route, for he knows that later tonight he will have to return to the camp.

They walk on in silence for what seems an age, until the guide steps into a cornfield to relieve himself. Having finished, he then produces a cellular phone from his back pocket and conducts a short, whispered conversation before folding the phone in half and once more tucking it into his pocket. Gabriel watches him carefully, as do the two other men, fearful that he may try to bolt with their money. Having completed his phone call, the guide now returns to the narrow roadway. He cleans his thick glasses on the sleeve of his jacket, and then he replaces them. He points to a glow in the sky just a short way off.

“It is the place for the train.”

As they move in the direction of the light, Gabriel reaches over to take the boy from Amma, and for the first time since she jumped from the train she allows him to feel the weight of her child. She walks on, unburdened, and Gabriel feasts his eyes upon the graceful lines of her body.

A few hundred yards beyond where the guide relieved himself, he stops and gathers them around. Although there is no need to whisper, the man speaks quietly.

“We cannot go the whole distance by this road, for there are guards and police between here and the train. However, beyond this turning there is a bridge. The train passes below the bridge and you will drop down onto the top of the train.”

Gabriel can hardly believe what he is hearing.

“Onto the top of the train?”

The two other men are equally animated in their disbelief, but their guide is indignant. He raises his voice now and begins to gesticulate.

“What did you expect? Did you expect to travel in the train?”

Gabriel speaks up. “Yes, in the train, please. In the train.”

The man simply laughs. “You people are stupid.”

Gabriel turns to Amma, who seems unperturbed by this news.

“We must demand the return of your money. This seems too dangerous.”

Amma shrugs her shoulders. “Let us wait and see the bridge. It may be possible.”

But Gabriel is adamant. “You have your child. You cannot jump from a bridge with your child!”

“We have come this far. Let us at least take a look at the bridge.” Gabriel stares at her, but Amma will not back down. The guide turns and walks off in the direction of the glow in the sky, and his charges have little choice but to hasten after him. A few hundred yards down the road he stops abruptly and again he points.

“Now we cross this field to the bridge.”

The man leads them up off the road, and they begin to make their way across a deeply rutted field that is thickly overgrown with thistles and brambles. Amma reaches for her child to relieve Gabriel of the burden, but Gabriel makes it clear that he is comfortable with the boy’s weight.

When they reach the far side of the field they see the bridge, which has a slight arch so that the middle part is higher than the rest. It is a narrow bridge, not broad enough for a car, but wide enough for two people to walk across, shoulder to shoulder. To reach the bridge the guide pulls back a piece of fencing that looks like it has already been cut. Lying discarded by this gap in the fence is an empty Coca-Cola can and a half-dozen chocolate wrappers. There are muddy footprints, which make the grass slick, but one after the other they all pass through the fence and then step onto the bridge. Gabriel looks over the edge to see how far the drop is, and he is relieved to discover that it is not nearly as far as he had feared. The two other men also look and then laugh, but theirs is a nervous laughter. The guide watches them, but he seems agitated, as though he is ready to leave. He looks first one way and then the other, but Gabriel is scrutinising this man who, for the first time, seems unsure of himself.

“The train will come from this direction.” The guide points towards the light. “You will jump from here as it emerges on the other side.” He stands now in the middle of the small bridge and glances at his watch. “The train will be here in one minute.”

Gabriel looks at Amma, but she seems calm. The guide continues.

“It is better to drop down onto the train. Better than to jump. And you must land on the wagons at the rear of the train, for these are for cargo. Nobody will hear you if you drop on top of these carriages. Now please, you must get ready.”

Amma busily ties her child securely into her bosom, wrapping yet another layer of cloth around him. The restless guide rubs the lenses of his thick glasses with his fingers.

“You must lie flat and still on top of the train. You will pass through a long tunnel, but do not be frightened. Then it will be England, but do not get up or show yourself until you reach London. You will know that it is London, for you will be in a big station with a roof. The train will stop and doors will open and you will hear people and announcements. If the train stops before this you must not get up, do you understand?”

The two men nod. Amma finishes binding her child to her bosom, and then they hear the noise of the train approaching. The guide jams his glasses back into place.

“Remember you must lie flat.”

Gabriel looks at the train as it comes into view, but he can immediately see that it is travelling too fast for Amma to jump. The two men are already hanging over the side of the bridge, and now the guide turns to Amma, but Gabriel moves to stand in front of her. The guide is flustered.

“Quick, you must hurry.”

Gabriel raises his voice over the noise of the approaching train. “It is going too quickly. She cannot do this.” Gabriel can see that Amma wants to speak, but he is adamant. He takes a step towards the guide and holds out his hand. “The money.”

The guide laughs and turns from Gabriel. The train is now passing underneath the bridge. Gabriel can feel Amma tugging at his sleeve, but without bothering to turn around he simply cries, “No.” Gabriel watches as the two men let go of the bridge and fall on top of the train. They roll onto their sides and then one man reaches out and grabs the other in order to prevent him from falling. And then suddenly they are gone from sight as the train speeds into the distance. The guide turns from the train and looks at Gabriel.

“What is the matter with you?” He holds his hands out wide. “The girl could have been on the train.”

“It was going too fast,” says Gabriel.

The guide laughs and begins to walk off, but Gabriel shouts.

“The money.”

The guide stops and turns around to face Gabriel.

“I have to pay the guards. If there are three people, then I pay for three. If only two jump, then it is not my problem.”

Amma takes Gabriel by the arm. “Please, the money is not important.”

Gabriel, however, is determined. “You have stolen our money.”

The guide walks back towards Gabriel. “Please do not call me a thief.”

Gabriel is adamant. “You have taken Amma’s money.”

The man now points towards Amma. “She decided not to jump. This is not my fault. If I am caught I will be imprisoned. But I take this risk.” He bangs his hand into his chest as he speaks. “I take the risk. You understand?”

Amma turns and moves away from the bridge. She passes back through the gap in the fence and then she begins to walk across the field. Gabriel wants to say something more to this man, but he cannot take his eyes from Amma. He turns and runs after her, but when he reaches Amma she ignores him.

“Are you angry with me?”

Amma continues to walk.

“I am trying to help you, yet you treat me as though I have done something that has offended you.” Amma stops in the middle of the thorny field, and for the first time Gabriel can see the tears in her eyes.

“Why,” she asks, “do you insist on arguing with this man? He is not going to give you the money and he may be dangerous. You put us in danger. You put my child in danger.”

Gabriel listens and he is shocked by how emotionally distraught Amma appears to be.

“I am sorry.” He speaks quietly, and as he does so he moves to hold her arm, but she pulls away. “I did not know that you were frightened.”

Amma’s eyes continue to blaze. “Of course I am frightened. The man can keep the money, I have a child to protect.”

“I am sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” She looks contemptuously at Gabriel. “It is men like that man who raped me and made me sick.”

“Men like that?”

“Angry men. They killed my husband, and because of the rape his family did not want me any more. That is why I am here, just me and my child. We have nobody and we do not wish to make men angry.”

“But you have me, Amma.”

“I cannot have a man again, do you not understand? It is not possible. I am no use to you, no use at all.”

Gabriel stares at her, but Amma shakes her head and then she begins to walk back in the direction of the camp. Gabriel watches her for a few moments, and then he follows.

As they pass into the tent Gabriel notices that there are new people who look closely at both of them. However, in the far corner of the tent, he sees familiar faces. He imagines that it must be clear to them that this is not the right time to begin questioning either of their distraught-looking fellow travellers. Amma sits down and begins to free the child from the cloths which bind him to her body. Gabriel sits heavily on the cot next to hers and he stares at her. And then he whispers.

“So what will happen with us?”

Amma says nothing, and she will not meet Gabriel’s eyes. She lies on her side with her hands between her knees, as though she is praying, and she concentrates on her child. Knowing that he is effectively beaten, and that there is no way to make Amma talk against her will, Gabriel rolls over onto his cot and closes his eyes. He is tired, and he can feel sleep beginning to flood his body.

And then Gabriel sees his mother crawling on all fours like a dog. She is wailing, but without making any noise. Her head is craned back and she opens her mouth and reveals toothless gums. Her eyes bulge, but it is not immediately clear why she is in so much pain. And now she is surrounded by a group of men in khaki uniforms with red bandannas wrapped around their heads. They form a human circle inside of which Gabriel’s mother crawls, and as she does so they kick her. Gabriel watches at some distance, and then one of the men turns around and sees Gabriel. The man has on dark glasses, and then all of the men turn and look at Gabriel so that he can now see that they are all wearing dark glasses. Gabriel’s mother has collapsed into a heap and she is no longer able to crawl. But the men have finished with her and they stare now at Gabriel. And then Gabriel’s two sisters walk into view. They are still in their blue and white school uniforms, and they carry their satchels over one shoulder. The men notice these two girls, and the older sister stops and holds the arm of the younger sister, who screams, and the two girls turn on their heels and begin to flee. A satchel drops from a shoulder, but it is impossible to tell who it belongs to. The men take off in pursuit of the girls and leave Gabriel standing alone with his mother. He waits for a few moments, but his mother does not pick herself up from the dirt. Gabriel is not sure if he should approach her, but in the end he decides to try and help. His mother is curled in a ball with her back to him.

“Mama?” Gabriel speaks quietly, as though not wishing to rouse her from an afternoon nap. “Mama, are you all right?”

She says nothing in return, and so he bends down to touch her.

“Mama?”

“I have not had my blood in many months.”

He hears her voice, but she does not turn around to face him. He reaches down and pulls back her shoulder in order that he might look into her eyes, but there is no face. It is as if somebody has taken a piece of cloth and rubbed out her features. Gabriel jumps back in alarm, and then he opens his eyes and sees one of his travelling companions looking down at him.

“Gabriel, are you all right?”

Gabriel says nothing, and he simply stares at Bright.

“Gabriel, you were screaming. My brother, you are covered in sweat.”

Gabriel realises where he is. Beyond this man, and beyond the people who lie idly on their cots, he can see daylight through the open flaps of the tent. It is morning. Gabriel sits upright and wipes his damp brow with the sleeve of his jacket, and then he gestures to the empty cots.

“Where is everybody?”

“They have gone back to Paris to try to find Joshua.”

Gabriel looks to the cot where Amma used to lie. Bright reads his mind, and he speaks before Gabriel has time to frame the question.

“Yes, the woman too. She seemed sad to leave you. I think she wanted to wake you to say goodbye, but you were sleeping very heavily.”

Gabriel is disappointed with Amma, but there is little point in his letting Bright know this. Gabriel sits upright and looks around, and then Bright laughs, a loud, almost hysterical laugh, and he slaps Gabriel on the back.

“Come, let us get some food before these people eat it all.”

Gabriel follows Bright out of the tent. His friend is heavily built, but without being fat, and Gabriel guesses him to be in his mid-twenties. During the journey he has said very little to Gabriel, but even in the most difficult of times he has noticed a quiet determination about this man, Bright. They line up to collect their metal plate of rice and vegetables, and their hunk of bread, and then they both squat in the sunshine and eat. The ground is too muddy for them to sit, but it is too depressing to go back inside the tent. Bright eats quickly, as though unconcerned by what he is shovelling into his mouth, and when he finishes the food he tosses the plate to the ground and then turns to Gabriel.

“I think we should try to reach England tonight. I have been speaking to one of those men.” Bright gestures towards an unusually tall Chinese man in a red woollen hat who, judging by the manner in which he pulls his thin jacket around him, appears to be suffering badly with a cold. Suddenly this man bends almost double, and begins to cough loudly into his chapped hands.

“He told me that we can smuggle ourselves onto a boat. It is better than the trains, for everybody is trying the trains. The boats are unprotected most of the time.”

“Bright, you are sure about this?”

“The Chinese man told me that for those with no money, the only way into England is the boats. If we do not try, then we are defeated.” Bright pauses. “This man says that he is coming with us.” Again Bright pauses and he looks directly at Gabriel. “It is either this or Paris. But I am an Englishman. Only the white man respects us, for we do not respect ourselves. If you cut my heart open you will find it stamped with the word ‘England.’ I speak the language, therefore I am going to England to claim my house and my stipend.” For a moment Bright falls silent, and then again he begins to speak. “My brother, this is difficult to talk about, so I will just say it once and then we can forget it. In our country they put me in prison and did terrible things to me to try to make me talk. If it was not for a cousin who brought me money so I could pay the guards and eat, I would not be here. I got dysentery from the one chamber pot that fifty of us were forced to share. I got lice from the damp mattress on the floor. The half-cooked rice in palm oil soothed my pain, but it made me very sick. I know we have all been afflicted, but I, this man, cannot go back ever. I hate it. I want to forget Africa and those people. I am an Englishman now. I am English and nobody will stop me from going home. Not you, not these people, nobody.”

Gabriel smells the sea, but he says nothing. The three of them continue to edge their way down the dark road, until they are greeted with a bank of floodlights which reveal a bustling scene of trucks and people, all of whom are bathed in the dazzling pool of bright fluorescent light. The Chinese man points to the bulk of a huge ship and then he speaks to Bright in a whisper, all the while glancing towards the vessel. Bright listens and then turns to Gabriel.

“He says that we are to move quickly through the trucks till we get close to the ship. Then we run to the ropes that secure the ship to the harbour, take them in our hands and drop over the side. There is a ledge on the side of the ship that we put our feet on, and we must hold on to the ship.”

Gabriel seems unconvinced.

“When do we do this?”

“Now.”

The Chinese man is not listening. He looks intently all about himself, and then suddenly his red hat is moving quickly through the trucks. Bright notices that they have been abandoned and he is quick to follow. Gabriel chases after his younger friend, and the two men scamper quickly in an effort not to lose sight of the Chinese man. They hide behind the truck that is closest to the ship, and all three of them wait until they have caught their breath. Then the Chinese man points first to himself, then to Bright, and then to Gabriel so that it is clear that they are to move off in this order. Without waiting to see if his instructions have registered, the man dashes to the side of the ship and swings himself off the quayside and down into the narrow gap between the sea wall and the vessel. Gabriel and Bright look at each other, but neither says anything. Bright glances all around and then scurries off. Gabriel watches as Bright grabs a rope and then disappears over the quayside. And now Gabriel runs out, his heart pounding, and he too grabs the rope and lowers himself until he can feel the ledge beneath his feet. He releases the rope and grabs holds of a metal chain, and he follows Bright and the Chinese man, who are edging their way towards the front of the ship. Once there they edge along the far side of the ship where nobody can see them. And then they stop and wait. Gabriel looks down and can see that there is nothing between this thin ledge and the sea below, and he clings tightly to the metal chain. Occasionally he glances at Bright, but Bright’s eyes are tightly shut and he will not meet his friend’s gaze.

Eventually, the hooter on the ship sounds a half-dozen shrill blasts and the ship begins, almost imperceptibly, to move off and into the open water. As she does so, Gabriel can feel the greasy swell lazily swinging the ship up, and then letting her down again as though having changed its mind. Gabriel notices that a terrified Bright has opened his eyes, but, as though sensing danger, he quickly shuts them again. As the ship moves out into the sea, and her movements become more energetic, water begins to spray up and over Gabriel so that he is instantly sodden, and it is now Gabriel’s turn to close his eyes. As the ship moves forward, Gabriel can feel it hitting a tall ridge of water and then plunging down the far side of the ridge and into a trough, and for a moment he is totally submerged. Soon Gabriel can no longer feel his hands, but he fights with a soldier’s concentration to keep his mind alert.

Gabriel hears the ship’s engines falling quiet, and he notices that the lurching of the ship is becoming less violent. He hears people shouting to each other, and then the shouting becomes increasingly urgent. For a moment Gabriel wonders if this is the afterworld, and then he realises that it is his own name that is being shouted out. He opens his eyes. The ship is approaching a coastline that looks like a long, thin black shadow decorated with speckles of white light, and Gabriel blinks repeatedly, for the sea water is burning his eyes. He can see that Bright is gesturing wildly to him, but there is no sign of the other man. Bright now clings onto the metal chain with just one hand, and with the other hand he is pointing to the black water. “Jump!” Before Gabriel has a chance to reply, Bright leaps down into the water and Gabriel jumps after him. As he hits the water Gabriel feels his leg snap back, as though it has struck something hard. The pain shoots through him like a bullet, and Gabriel opens his mouth to cry out in pain, but water rushes in. Bright is already swimming towards the shore, and Gabriel begins to flail after him although it causes him intense pain to do so. Gabriel decides to turn on his side, and he trails the leg behind him as though it were a semi-discarded article of clothing. As he thrashes his way towards the lights, the cinema of his mind fades to black and then it is suddenly flooded with disturbing, yet familiar, images.

We were the smaller tribe. We worked hard and we did not harm anybody. We tried to do what was best for ourselves, and what was good for our young country. We wanted only to live in peace with our brothers, but it became clear that this was not possible. My father told me they were jealous of us, for our people ran many businesses; not just in the capital city, but in our tribal land to the south. We formed the backbone of the economy, and therefore we had much influence. It was only after one of our people was elected to the presidency that the real trouble began; the killings. The army rebelled, and the government troops spilled out from their barracks and cruised the streets in vehicles with machine guns pointing out of the windows. They began to drink and kill, and kill and drink, and soon my terrified father had little choice but to take me to one side.

“You are my eldest child. My only son.” My father looked directly at me as he spoke, but on his breath I could smell wine. Father did not know how to cope with this new situation, and there were portions of his cheek that he had forgotten to shave. “My son, these people are roaming the streets in aimless packs like disturbed hounds. This morning I saw with my own eyes as they took a woman, wrapped her in a blanket, poured kerosene on her and watched her burn alive. Out on the beach, beside the piles of rotting garbage, I saw this with my own eyes.”

I stared at my father who began now to shake his head.

“Power has not gone to the heads of these soldiers, it has gone to their bellies. They are fat and fleshy. They do not know how to fight, only how to kill. You must go to the south and join our people there. Soon they will kill our president and their army will take charge. I feel this in my blood. Our one hope will be you men in the south.” He paused. “You must go now. You are my only son and it is my duty to send you to the liberation army. You will be trained to become a soldier, and the day will soon come when you will march triumphantly into the capital with your head held high. On this day I will throw petals at your feet, and strangers will rush to you and embrace you with tears of gratitude in their eyes. Your mother and your two sisters will weep with joy, for it is this day that we are all dreaming of. It is this day that we are waiting for.”

I was twenty-nine years old when my poor father said these words to me. The next morning, before dawn, I clambered up and onto the back of a truck with four other “recruits.” My occupation was that of messenger clerk, and before this I had worked for many years at a hardware store. I was not prepared for the life of a soldier. My job as a messenger clerk was to run errands for civil servants and ministers in the government; I worked for the type of men who drove large foreign cars and who travelled freely to Europe and even to the United States. I would take them an envelope, or a pot of soup, or a new cell phone, or whatever it was that I was told to take to them, and I would wait in case they had something that they wished me to take away for them. In this way I hoped to gain influence and to one day secure for myself a position as a junior civil servant. This is how the system worked in my country. One had to be patient, but some days it was very difficult for I was no longer a young man.

Every day I would go into the ten-storey government headquarters, and up the urine-stained steps, for we were not permitted to use the elevator. I would climb through the miasma of piss, and up the unfortunate stairwell where rats played in the corners, and then enter into the brightness of the neon-lit outer offices that were crammed with secretaries and typists, girls who spent their money on hot combs to make their stubborn hair smooth, and who wasted hours using skin-bleaching creams in the hope that they might render themselves more attractive to the men who promised these over-scented women a cosmetics shop of their own, or a half-dozen sewing machines, in exchange for their agreeing to lie back clumsily like upturned buses. I knew the names of some of these women, but such women would never be seen with me. They were goods in a shop, but I had no money. These fat men with greasy skin, who sweated underneath their tight western suits, they had already made a down payment on ruby-lipped Madonna, or fat Baby, or Pleasure with her blonde wig. These women did not consider me to be a man. A messenger clerk is not a man: I was a thing to be tolerated, a creature in a T-shirt and torn pants who was not much better than the cockroaches that skittered noisily across the floor. What did I know of Johnnie Walker Black Label? If the minister or civil servant had nothing for me to take back down the rotten stairwell, then one of these women would dismiss me with a flourish of her red nails and I would once more join the other clerks who squatted in the street rolling dice or playing cards, and I would sit and read until there was another message to be delivered. And then one night my father spoke to me, and in the morning he took me to a truck with no side mirrors, and with no indicators or windscreen wipers. Everything that could be peeled or ripped off from the truck had been taken, and he shook hands with me and reminded me that I was going south to become a soldier and wage war for my people. He pushed a crumpled pack of cigarettes into my hand. He knew that I did not smoke, but he told me that I might be able to use the cigarettes as currency with which to bribe somebody and perhaps smooth my path for what lay ahead. There are, he reminded me, men who value tobacco more than bread.

Never before had I left the capital. As we passed through the shanty towns which clung to the edges of our main city, I stared in disbelief at the corrugated tin shelters which sprouted out of what looked like foul rubbish dumps. Although I had not seen these places with my own eyes, such tin-roofed slums, where beggars patrolled the streets, were widely known to be home for the disabled and maimed, places where huge rats bred freely and roamed by day and by night. I continued to stare in disbelief. This was our city? We soon passed into the countryside and sped south along the narrow strip of asphalt that had been laid clumsily over loose earth. The frayed edges of the asphalt had already been chewed by the red soil, and it was clear that at some point in the near future this “road” would disappear. I looked to either side, but there was nothing except a dark curtain of bush.

The truck rolled and swayed like a drunk, and as we pressed further south we began to pass hundreds of displaced persons walking towards us with mattresses, cooking pots, and bundles of possessions on their heads. We soon grew accustomed to the barricades of burning tyres that occasionally blocked the road, and finally one of our escorts climbed wearily to his feet. He steadied himself by holding on to the side of the truck, and we stared at him as he stood before us resplendent in his grimy New York Jets T-shirt with his belt of neat bullets, like long chocolate fingers, that was wrapped around his waist and across his chest. He was chewing some kind of nut and the juice was dribbling down his chin, but either he did not care or he did not notice, for he made no attempt to dam the black rivulet at the corner of his mouth. He looked through his gold-rimmed glasses at all five of us in turn, and then he began to speak without enthusiasm, as though his words carried no weight.

“We are fighting for a purpose. Our aim is to liberate our land from these unscrupulous men who hate us. They outnumber us two or three to one, but they are mosquitoes. They suck our blood, but you will be trained so that you can squash them, do you understand?”

We looked at this man and nodded, and he stared at each one of us in turn and then, as though suddenly overcome with fatigue, he carefully lowered himself to the floor of the truck and once again rolled over and onto his side and closed his eyes. I watched him, for I was sure that this was some trick of his to test us, but soon I was convinced that the man had truly fallen asleep and the rest of our journey passed in silence.

In the south we were held in the bush far away from the nearest village. Those who trained us were boys, but they walked with the authority of old men in their plastic flip-flops. Their painted nails, and the teddy bears that many clung to, initially caused me to be confused. I soon learned that the currency of the camp was weed that you smoked, and this gave these soldiers a feeling of invincibility so that holding a stuffed toy, or wearing a Donald Duck mask, or daubing oneself with bright-pink lipstick, could never undermine their manhood. For my own part, beyond the dark sunglasses which we all craved and needed, I decided not to decorate myself, and perhaps because of my conservative bearing, and the fact that I was some ten years older than most of the men, I was chosen to be the leader of a brigade. I was different, for I had more education than the others, and more ambition to make something of myself in the world, and for these reasons they listened to me whenever I chose to speak. However, I was not a man to waste words, and most of the time I remained silent, which is why they took it upon themselves to christen me “Hawk.”

Our first raids were a great success. I would lead the men into a village and we would drive out the government troops. We discovered many villagers with swollen stumps where their arms and legs used to be, the skin stretched and sewn together with makeshift stitching. These men had been tortured by the government troops, and many of our own people had now begun to resort to the same tactics in order to extract information, but I refused to allow my men to hack off limbs. When we had either killed or captured our enemy, the grateful villagers would re-emerge and shout and cheer for Hawk and his men. We showed restraint and, rather than just taking, we always waited for the liberated villagers to reward us. Sometimes they would cook food for us, rice with spicy sauce, cassava-bread pancakes, fresh roasted yam or soup; what little they had they would share with us, and even those who were not of our tribe knew that we would treat them better than the government soldiers. They knew that we were fair men, and when we left, my men always carried new gifts: a shower cap, a wedding headdress or a pair of women’s shoes. Patrick, my second-in-command, enjoyed smearing his face in mud and he took to wearing a wig with one long braided pigtail. Never without the weed, Patrick soon appropriated the name “Captain JuJu” and shortly after his rebirth he would not answer to any other title.

“Patrick,” I would ask him, “what juju are you using?” and he would laugh as though my question was the opening gambit in a game. Patrick would cackle and pass me the joint.

“Hawk, you are a funny man.” And then Captain JuJu, who had long forgotten that my name was Gabriel, would flap his arms and begin to run around and screech, “Only Hawk can fly” while the rest of the men clutched their sides with laughter. “Only Hawk can fly.” And I would take the weed and watch crazy Patrick with a quiet smile on my face. “Only Hawk can fly.”

For over a year this was our life, moving stealthily from one village to the next, driving back the government troops and waiting for news from the rest of the country, or a message from our leader back at the training camp. His headquarters was a small tin-roofed hut that was circled by bodyguards, and there he would sit with only his satellite telephone for company and plan the liberation campaign. Approximately once every month, our leader would call his commanders to him, and at such times a jeep would arrive and I would travel back south, leaving the troops in Patrick’s charge.

Colonel Bloodshed never removed his Ray-Ban glasses or his Nike training shoes. Inside his hut he had glossy photographs of American film actresses stuck to the wall, and while I waited for him to look up at me, or finish a telephone call, I would stare at the fading pictures and wonder why these girls in particular? The miracle of electric light was produced by the roar of the leader’s private generator, but above the noise of the engine I could still sometimes hear the sound of screaming as sand was being pushed into the ears of government soldiers, or I would hear cries for mercy as fresh captives were being hung upside down over the septic tank. Colonel Bloodshed seldom killed prisoners, this much I knew. Fear was enough to make the enemy talk, but I disliked hearing the noise. When the leader spoke to me from behind his glasses he enjoyed calling me Hawk, and he loved speaking in riddles and telling me that there were no more devils downstairs in hell, for they were all up here on earth visiting our country. He loved reminding me that guns must liberate, but they must never rule.

“Major Hawk,” he would say, “you are one of my ten chiefs. Remember, in war there are casualties, and we all do things that we wish we had not done.” Our leader would pause. “But remember. Guns must never rule, and I say this as a soldier.” Again he would pause, and then he would lift up his eyes as though trying to peer at me over the top of his Ray-Bans. “Hawk,” he would whisper. “To not be buried in one’s own land. Now that is the ultimate insult. You understand, don’t you?”

I would nod, but Colonel Bloodshed never listened to me, and I assumed he never listened to any of his “chiefs.”

“Hawk, I am a good-looking man, do you not think so? A show-man, yes?” Our leader stood and began to pace the floor with rhythmic deliberation. “You can see how I dress, can’t you? In the latest fashions, and always the best. Once upon a time I was a professional dancer in a night club, did you know that? Look, admire me, there is nothing to be ashamed of.” Our leader threw his hands into the air and spun on his axis, and then when he was once more facing me he began to laugh out loud. “I used to dream of going to Europe. Of becoming a ‘been-to.’ But I knew that such a journey would cost me five years of savings and cause me five years of debt. So instead, in the capital, I used to service the wives of the diplomats and the tourists in the hope that one of them would take me to Europe. There I would be the toast of the town. The brown toast. I would never be one of the ‘been-tos’ who come back as a ghost of the man they once were, their African souls crushed by these people. My body and my soul would return to Africa in triumph. Brown toast. Look at these feet.” He pointed to his Nike training shoes. “These feet were not made to suffer dirt. When I go to Europe I will walk everywhere on soft material and they will worship my black beauty. They will fall at my feet and proclaim my power and how handsome I am. I will stamp on their violins and piss on their classical music CDs. I will bring them black Africa.”

At such moments I had learned that it was best to say nothing and simply listen.

“How are the dogs?” By this I knew Colonel Bloodshed meant my troops.

“Sir, they are well.”

“It is hard for the dogs. If they are afraid, you must let them smoke the cannabis and mix it with gunpowder. Then they will have no fear of spilled blood coming back to haunt them. They will no longer see people, only chickens that have to be slaughtered. You must encourage them to harvest the chickens. It is time for the men of our country to reap the harvest and eat chicken.”

At some point, having been provided with a patient and obedient audience, Colonel Bloodshed would tire of my presence and unceremoniously fall asleep, and I would find a jeep or a truck that was available and begin the long journey back north to my men.

Sometimes I would take out my book with its curled cover and mottled pages, and I would try to reread some of the notes that I had made, for I was in the habit of copying out passages from books that appeared to me to be memorable. However, on this particular night, as the light faded, I simply stared into the dark undergrowth. As I passed through a village that we had liberated only a few weeks earlier, I looked at the long line of women waiting at the solitary well for water, and the naked children running around in circles and playing the game of hitting each other with switches pulled from trees, and I wanted to weep for both tribes of my country. My own father had sent me to be a part of this slaughter and for the life of me I could not understand what he hoped to achieve. He meant well, that much I understood, but what did my father know of war?

When I arrived back at our camp I discovered that in my absence Patrick had led a group of men back to the village that we had most recently captured. Apparently the men had heard that the local prostitutes were prepared to go “live” with a man who did not wear a condom. These women liked dry sex, rough, quick and without lubrication, and Patrick and the men were eager to offer up trinkets in exchange for these women’s bodies. I sat by the campfire with the handful of men who remained behind, and I encouraged them to clean their weapons, for too many of them were rusting up in the humidity. I reminded the men that a weapon that jammed might well cost them their lives. They looked at me in silence. I cleaned my own rifle, but said nothing further.

In the morning Patrick and his men had still not returned and so I sent two men to search them out. When they finally appeared, Patrick was dressed in black pantyhose and he was still drunk. The others were high on pills and they continued to smoke weed. The men staggered towards me as streaks of light began to colour the tops of the trees. Patrick smiled his gap-toothed smile and placed a welcoming hand on my shoulder.

“Hawk,” he whispered. “Hawk, you have never tasted women like these. I am sorry, my brother, but nothing like these women. Never. Nothing like these.”

I looked at Patrick and then turned away, for these men were suffering enough in this hellish war without enduring the lash of my tongue. In fact, I had no words on my tongue with which to lash them. These were young men who were fighting because somebody had given their family a bag of rice or promised them a car. For over a year they had simply eaten what they were given, and they had all lost friends. I walked to the shade of a tree and sat and closed my eyes. When I opened them it was evening.

The following morning we moved north and began our assault on the next village, but the mood had changed. As we cut through the bush, Patrick would not meet my eyes, and the other men avoided me. I felt as though I was marching alone, but I said nothing. When we reached the village we stopped and took up our crouching positions. We waited for signs of government troops, but we saw nobody. I stared at Patrick, who was wearing a new shower cap on top of his wig, but he simply looked at Major “Hawk” and laughed, and I could see it in his eyes that he had already taken something.

“Hawk. We are ready. Are you ready? Hawk, we are ready to fly.”

I zipped my forefinger across my lips to encourage him to be quiet, but he simply giggled. And then others among the men began to laugh. I continued to look straight ahead at the village, but I could see no movement at all.

After a few moments, I stood up and beckoned everybody to gather around. I told them that the village was clear and that the government troops must have retreated. I suggested that we pass through, and accept food if the villagers wished to give some to us, but we would just move on. Patrick stepped out in front of me and held up his hand.

“No. The women last night told us that this village is friendly towards the government troops. These villagers are traitors.” I had heard this and I knew that there was a possibility that it was true, but before I could say anything Patrick continued. “Captain JuJu says we take control of this village.”

The men began to nod and to move from one bare foot to another. They were already tired under the weight of shells and the heavy pieces of equipment that were strapped to their narrow backs, but their hearts were strong with amphetamines and dope. I spoke quietly.

“We will leave this village alone.”

Patrick stepped closer so that I could now smell the weed.

“I am Captain JuJu. They will follow me. To stop them you must kill me.” Patrick’s eyes were stained red with blood, and he was laughing at me. “You are a coward, Hawk. Somebody has clipped your wings and you cannot fly. This is war and in war you must kill. You must kill and then eat the hearts of your victims to make yourself more powerful. Come!” Patrick cocked his gun and signalled to the men to follow him into the village. The men removed their guns from their shoulders and made ready for war. Patrick pointed his weapon at me. “If we find you, Hawk, we will kill you, for you are not a man, you are a woman, and you have no place among dogs.” He laughed and then suddenly choked back his amusement and spat. “We mistake your silence for strength.” He then stepped forward and kissed me on the forehead, leaving behind a smear of lipstick. “There.” He pointed for all to see. “You have the mark of a woman upon you.” And then he cackled at his own humour.

I remained rooted to the spot and watched as Patrick led the men towards the village. Some time later, I listened to the rapid firing of their weapons and the chorus of screaming from the villagers. Captain JuJu was right. I did not have the heart for this savagery. My father had sent me to fight, and I could fight and kill if necessary. But only if necessary. Now I had little choice but to make my way back to the capital and warn my family. Everybody knew that these were my men, and it was clear that the government troops would blame me for this massacre and take bloody revenge on my mother and father and two sisters. This was the shameful manner in which we conducted our war. I stood for a few moments in the bush, my weapon by my side, and I listened to Patrick and his men mowing down innocent women and children. I remembered our leader’s words. In war there are casualties and we all do things that we wish we had not done. Long before the last bullets ceased flying, I had begun the long walk north towards the capital. To reach my mother and father and two sisters, this was now the full extent of my ambition.

When Gabriel opens his eyes he can feel Bright pushing into his chest.

“Gabriel, breathe out. Breathe out!”

Gabriel can feel the water dribbling helplessly around his mouth, and he realises that there is no dignity to his present predicament.

“Gabriel, can you hear me?”

Gabriel tries to nod, but his head will not respond. He keeps his eyes firmly fixed on Bright, who again pushes on Gabriel’s chest. This time Gabriel coughs loudly, but no water comes up. Then Bright feels Gabriel’s leg, but the pain causes Gabriel to grimace. He looks down and sees that his right trouser leg is ripped so that the skin is exposed, but there is neither blood nor bruising.

With Bright’s help, Gabriel sits upright and he can now see that he is on a stony beach. Only a few yards to his left the deafening sea is pounding into the shore. Gabriel looks around himself and then fixes his gaze upon Bright.

“England?”

Bright laughs out loud. “If this is not England, then wherever it is, I am staying.” Bright reaches down a hand and pulls his friend to his feet.

Gabriel winces in pain, and is immediately aware that he cannot put much pressure on his right leg. He holds on to Bright’s arm, but the slippery stones beneath his feet make his movement painfully slow.

Together they walk up the short incline, with Gabriel leaning heavily against his friend’s portly body, and when they reach the deserted road they stop and stare at the lights of a distant harbour town. There, in the docks, Gabriel can see the ship that has brought them on this final leg of this journey, for its illuminated bulk dwarfs everything else. Bright points.

“We should walk towards the town.”

Gabriel says nothing, and he decides to conserve his energy. This first English night is causing him much pain, and he knows that to try to speak will prove too much for him, but he feels sure that Bright understands. And then suddenly, as they continue along the empty road, the thought strikes a guilty Gabriel.

“Bright, where is the other man?”

Bright continues to walk, assisting his friend as he does so.

“He fell into the sea a long time before we reached England. The water swallowed him.” Gabriel tries not to appear shocked, but Bright has not finished. “What could I do? Follow him into the mouth of the sea? The man has passed over and now he is at peace.” Suddenly Gabriel’s heart feels heavy, but he knows that it would be foolish for him to think any further on this subject, and so he resolves to forget the tall Chinese man with the red hat.

The two men continue to walk slowly, one supporting the other, both silently fearful of discovery, but it soon becomes clear to Gabriel that he cannot walk much longer. Gabriel feels guilty that he is holding back his friend, but just when he realises that he may have to insist that Bright leave him behind, they both see a small house to the side of the lonely road. Bright speaks first.

“Perhaps we should ask these people for help.”

Gabriel looks at the house, and notices that one of the upstairs windows is broken, and that the garden is badly overgrown with weeds. It occurs to him that this house is possibly abandoned.

Bright knocks at the door and waits, and then he turns the door handle, but the door is locked and it will not give way. Gabriel leans against the gatepost, and he can see Bright visibly gain some confidence now that he realises that nobody is in the house. His friend walks to the edge of the building and peers around the corner.

“You must wait here while I look.”

Bright disappears from view, and Gabriel looks back down the road in the direction that they have just travelled. Out at sea a ship that is decorated like a wedding cake slides slowly by, but this is all that Gabriel can see. And then the door in front of him begins to open slowly. As it does so the hinges make a loud, grating sound, as though they have been rusted shut for some time. Gabriel navigates the short path by himself, and an excited Bright reaches out a hand to help him over the threshold.

“Nobody lives here. There’s some old furniture and a bed, but nothing else.” Bright closes the door behind them and Gabriel’s eyes begin to adjust to the darkness. “I climbed in through a window, but it’s filthy back there.”

Gabriel topples into a seat. As he sits, a cloud of dust rises around him. He watches Bright, who stands by the window and peers outside and into the darkness. His friend’s mind appears to be racing, but Gabriel decides not to ask any questions for he imagines that when he is ready, Bright will choose to share his thoughts. And then, without saying a word, his friend turns and crosses the room and slumps into a chair that Gabriel can see is leaking stuffing from old wounds.

When Gabriel wakes up the sun is shining directly into his eyes and Bright is no longer in the chair. He tries to stand, but the pain shoots through his right leg and he falls back down. He looks around the room and can see now that the house looks as though nobody has lived in it for quite some time. Every object is coated in a thin layer of dust, and the air feels heavy and stale. Gabriel tries again to get to his feet, and this time he manages to do so. As he moves to the window, he is careful to put as little pressure as possible on his injured leg. He lifts his hands to shield his eyes from the sun, and then he sees Bright walking up the path towards him with a small bag in his hand. Bright is grinning all over his face and he waves to Gabriel and then opens the door with a flourish.

“How is your leg?”

Gabriel hobbles to meet his younger friend, who hands him a plastic bottle with water in it. Bright continues, leaving Gabriel little time to answer his question.

“The town is small but it seems friendly, and at the train station the trains go directly to London. I think it will be easy to get on board and ride for nothing.”

Gabriel takes a drink from the bottle and then holds it out, but Bright sits down and refuses to accept the bottle.

“Please, you must finish it yourself. I have already had my fill in the town.”

Gabriel immediately tips the bottle up to his mouth and drains it. He puts down the bottle and stares at Bright, who suddenly seems tired. Although Gabriel is extremely hungry, he does not want to mention this fact for fear that Bright might think him ungrateful. As though sensing Gabriel’s unease, Bright gets to his feet and moves to the window where he positions himself in such a manner that the afternoon light catches him full in the face.

“My God, I see somebody.” An alarmed Bright speaks without turning towards Gabriel. “She is coming in this direction.”

Gabriel stands, and suddenly the pain in his leg is no longer a problem as he crosses to the window and joins Bright. Gabriel can see that the girl is young, and that she is walking right up to the house. She pushes at the door, and as she walks in she stops and lets out a small scream.

“My friend has hurt his leg,” says Bright. “If this is your house, we are sorry, but we needed to stay somewhere for the night.”

The girl is small in height, but her body is large. She is dressed in a red jacket and she wears a matching skirt and black tights. Gabriel assumes this to be her school uniform, but beyond her initial shock the girl does not panic.

“Who are you?” she asks. Bright gestures nervously.

“This is Gabriel, who has hurt his leg, and I am Bright. But please, we are leaving now.” The girl comes into the house, but she does not close the door behind her.

“You don’t have to go anywhere. This isn’t my place. Nobody lives here any more. Well, at least not since the accident.” Bright seems puzzled now.

“The accident?”

“It happened a few years ago, I think. Somebody died here, but it wasn’t like a murder or anything. Probably fell off the roof.”

Gabriel looks closely at the girl, who speaks quickly and with confidence.

“I’m serious, you don’t have to go nowhere.” She speaks directly to Bright, who gestures to the seat opposite Gabriel.

“Please, you must take a seat. There is no reason for you to remain standing.”

The girl sits and looks suspiciously at Gabriel, and then she turns back to Bright.

“What’s your names again? I’ve forgotten.” The girl runs a hand back and through her short blonde hair. “I’m Denise.”

“Denise, I am Bright, and this is Gabriel.”

“I like your names. They’re kind of simple. Does everybody in your country have simple names?”

Bright laughs. “People have all kinds of names.”

They fall silent for a moment, and suddenly Denise seems nervous.

“Are you from Africa?”

Bright nods.

“You’re illegals, aren’t you?”

Bright looks at Gabriel, who says nothing. Denise notes the glance and is quick to speak.

“I’m not going to tell nobody, I promise. It’s just that I’ve seen you people in town. Not Africans so much, but people from other places. Indians. Chinese. That lot. You want to go to London, don’t you? Is that where you’re heading?”

Bright nods.

“On the train?”

Again Bright nods, and then he speaks.

“We only arrived yesterday so we don’t really know what to do.”

“Are you hungry?” Denise stands now.

Gabriel looks at the young girl, trying to decide whether they should trust her, but Bright appears to have already made this decision. The girl hooks her bag over her shoulder.

“I can get you some food, but not tonight. I have to be back home or my dad will wonder what’s going on with me. But tomorrow I’ll come back with some food.”

Bright stands and faces the girl.

“Is it possible you could bring something for my friend’s leg? A bandage, perhaps?”

“Is a bandage all you need?”

Bright nods, and then he speaks.

“Are you sure that you will not be tempted to tell somebody about us?”

Denise laughs now. “I thought you lot turned yourself in to the police. Isn’t that what you do to get your asylum?”

“Yes. But we wish to go to London first.” Bright shrugs his shoulders. “If we do it here, they may put us straight back on the boat.”

“So you came on the ferry?”

“We came on a boat, but it was not easy.” Denise stares at Bright, and then suddenly she seems nervous.

“I have to go now, but I promise I’ll come back tomorrow with food. And I’ll try to bring something for his leg.”

Denise moves towards the door and Bright follows her. Gabriel watches them both, and then he stands up and limps across to the window, where he sees that the sun has now hidden itself behind a cloud. He looks at Denise as she makes her way down the path, her bag swinging casually on her shoulder. As she disappears out of sight it worries him that she does not even bother to turn around. Bright playfully slaps his friend on the arm.

“I can see that you do not trust this girl.”

Gabriel continues to stare at the path.

“Bright, the girl will tell her people. Perhaps we should leave now and try to reach London before she returns.”

Bright seems taken aback by Gabriel’s certainty. “Are you able to leave now?”

“I do not know, but I can try.”

Gabriel leaves Bright by the window and sits down. He thinks for a few moments and then he glances up at his younger friend.

“We should leave together, but in the morning. I do not think that she will say anything tonight, do you?”

Bright shrugs his shoulders. “I do not know. I cannot read the stupid girl’s mind.”

Gabriel looks at Bright in surprise.

Gabriel dreams of his mother. He gazes at her, but she will not speak to him. He brushes her face with the back of his hand. It feels hot, flushed with anger. His mother is not only physically hurt and bruised, she is also mentally damaged. He can see it in her eyes. Sadly, the muscles in her face are no longer strong enough to bear the weight of a smile. He implores her to flee with him, to let him rescue her, but she looks at him with scorn. She will not run away. Gabriel tries again.

“You must come with me. I can take you to a place where you will be safe. I am a major.”

His mother looks him up and down with a barely perceptible movement of her eyes, and then she laughs.

“Major? Major son.”

Gabriel is angry now. He is a major in command of many men. They are fighting a war for their country and her son is a leader of men. She has no right to laugh at him. Again, he tries to reason with his mother.

“I can save you, but you must come with me now.” Gabriel can hear his men outside. They are becoming restless. Most of them have already lost their families in this war, and they are jealous of the fact that Gabriel still has a mother. Gabriel can see the lighted butts of their cigarettes burning brightly. He looks again at his mother and tries once more to persuade her that she should abandon her house and the material possessions that she appears keen to cling to.

“These things mean nothing. I am talking about your life, that is what is important. You have to protect your life. You know I am telling you the truth, my mother, so why will you not listen? Why are you behaving in this stubborn manner?”

Gabriel continues to dream of his mother. He listens to the increasingly impatient sounds of his men outside. He knows that unless he is able to persuade her to leave with him, then he might never again see her. But what can he do? Carry her out with him? If she does not wish to come with him, then he has no choice but to accept her decision. He continues to look at his mother, who is staring back at her “Major son” with contempt that she seems incapable of disguising.

And then, some time later in the day, Gabriel imagines that he sees Amma and Joshua walking together along the banks of a broad river. Amma’s child is now a small boy, and he dances in between the legs of the adults. Gabriel watches them, but they cannot see him, and he realises that he has been betrayed. He understands now why Amma has chosen Paris over their future together. He understands now why Joshua refused to come to England. These two people have cast him aside and it hurts. He watches them closely, hoping that in their very movements he might pick up some clue as to what is passing through their minds. However, it is clear that Amma is giving to Joshua the love and attention that Gabriel sought from her.

Gabriel watches the child skipping happily, but it is only when the child turns around and looks in Gabriel’s direction that he recognises just what it is about this free-spirited child that disturbs him. The child has Felix’s face. Not just a resemblance, or a similarity, the child is Felix, and now the child points at Gabriel and begins to laugh. Joshua and Amma turn around, but they can see nothing and they wonder why the child is laughing. The boy begins to laugh even louder, and now Gabriel begins to panic. He turns and flees, but the boy chases after him, and no matter how quickly Gabriel runs, the boy runs faster until Gabriel realises that he has no choice but to stop and confront this young Felix. How can he apologise to this young boy for what he has done to him? He hurt him, and then left him to die, and Gabriel knows that he is guilty. Gabriel turns to face the boy, who immediately stops. The two of them stand alone, and then the young Felix begins to cry, and Gabriel realises the degree of hurt that is buried in the boy’s soul. He takes a step towards the young Felix, but the boy backs away.

“Are you all right?” Gabriel speaks softly, but the boy is frightened. Gabriel takes another step towards young Felix, but the sobbing boy turns on his heels and runs for his life. He moves quickly, and soon he is out of sight and Gabriel knows that it will be futile to chase after him, for the boy will soon be safe in the arms of Amma. No doubt Joshua will also comfort the boy, and together they will resume their walk by the side of the great river so that to all who look on they might appear to be the perfect family.

Gabriel looks around himself and he now realises that he has no idea of where he is. His dream is becoming a nightmare. He hears a voice shout to him, “Gabriel!” but he does not know how to find this person. Suddenly the street is in total darkness and he can see nothing. Then again the voice cries out, “Gabriel!” and he realises that he is being lured by this man. The light begins to improve, and as Gabriel follows the voice, people begin to mill about. French people. He is still in Paris. Shops and cars appear, and Gabriel feels as though he has walked from death into life. He begins to relax now and walk freely. Gabriel no longer hears the voice calling to him, but he seems to know exactly where he is walking. He crosses a busy highway and turns into a side street, where he stops by a pavement café and looks at the man who is the centre of attention. The man is surrounded by a group of fellow Africans, and they hang on his every word as he tells his tales and orchestrates their communal laughter. Then Gabriel recognises the voice that has led him out of darkness and to this present place. It is the voice of Bright. His young friend does not look across at Gabriel, he simply continues to talk, and Gabriel listens, and then Gabriel realises that none of the men can actually see him. Should he go and sit down among them, they still would not be able to see him. Bright has clearly made something of his life, but Gabriel is surprised to see him in Paris. He had imagined that Bright would, after all the effort that he had made to get to England, at least have tried to reach London. “Bright,” he says. He waits for Bright to respond, but Bright continues to ignore him. Gabriel tries again, but then Gabriel realises that, like the other men, Bright cannot hear him. He shouts one final time, “Bright!”

When Gabriel opens his eyes he can tell that it is dawn. The birds outside are singing, and the light is weak. He feels rested now, not only from the terror of the ride on the side of the ship, but from the whole journey. He moves his leg slightly, and although it still hurts, the pain does not shoot through it in the same manner. It is only now, however, as he moves to stand, that he notices that Bright is not in the room. Gabriel walks to the door, and although it still troubles him to place his full weight on the leg, he can at least move with some freedom. He opens the door and steps outside, and then he looks up at the house. In the morning light, the true extent of its abandonment is now clear. At first he had noticed that only one window was broken, but he can now see that most of the windows are either cracked or have small holes in the panes of glass as though stones have been pelted through them. The woodwork on the house lacks paint and is peeling, and the guttering is falling from the structure. In between the bricks spout tufts of grass, and in places some bricks are either dislodged or missing altogether. Gabriel walks around the house and discovers that the dereliction is the same on all sides. However, at the back of the house the state of disrepair seems to be greater still, for not a single pane of glass is intact, and birds appear to have taken to nesting in what used to be the kitchen. To the side of the kitchen wall he notices roses climbing wildly on some rickety trelliswork, but their red splendour serves only to reinforce the misery of the place.

Gabriel wanders round to the front of the house, and as he does so he wonders what might have happened here. England was not enduring a period of war, so why would somebody flee from a grand house like this? He walks down the short path to the road and looks first to the left and then to the right, but he can see nobody. As he turns to go back inside the house, Gabriel hears a noise behind him. For a moment he stands still, not daring to turn around.

“It’s only me.”

He hears Denise’s voice, and then her laughter, and then he turns to face her. He sees that she is wearing the same red uniform with black tights that she wore the previous day and she is holding a plastic bag, which Gabriel hopes contains food. She pushes past him with her tank-like body, and then she dashes up the path and into the house, and Gabriel follows her.

“Scared you, did I?” She doesn’t wait for Gabriel to answer. “I brought you some food and some drinks. Where’s your friend?”

“Bright?”

“Yes, Bright. I thought he was going to be here.” Gabriel can barely take his eyes from the bag of food, which the girl now passes to him. “Take what you want, it’s for you.”

Gabriel takes out a loaf of bread and tears off a large piece. As much as he wishes to eat slowly and with some dignity, he cannot restrain himself from cramming the bread into his mouth, for his stomach burns with hunger. Denise sits down now and stares at him.

“Hungry, are you?” She starts to laugh, and Gabriel realises that she is laughing at him. He glares at her, but an unperturbed Denise continues to laugh. As he chews his food, Gabriel studies this girl, who appears to be younger than his own sisters, and who wears her school uniform with neither pride nor dignity. The skirt is too short and it rides up one leg so that half of the girl’s thigh is exposed. Gabriel looks at her, and her exposed thigh, and then he attempts to open the bottle of water, which starts to bubble when he finally unscrews the metal cap.

“I don’t think Bright’s coming back, do you?” Gabriel begins to drink, but he does not answer. He decides instead to wait for her to continue. “I saw him this morning by the train station.” Gabriel stops drinking. “He didn’t tell you anything, did he?” Gabriel says nothing. “Well, don’t worry, I’ll look after you till you’re ready to go. I couldn’t find any bandages, but I haven’t told anybody that you’re here, honest.”

Gabriel looks away from this girl. He needs time to think, but he can feel the girl’s eyes upon him. She is staring at him and waiting for him to say something, but Gabriel has nothing to say to this disrespectful girl. He does not even wish to look upon her. Gabriel can sense that she is about to ask another question and so he closes his eyes against the girl, and the bright sunlight, in an attempt to control his anger.

The day warder unlocks the final door and moves to one side so that Gabriel can pass into the room where the woman and the man are already sitting at the table waiting for him. As he walks in, Katherine stands up and smiles. Today she is dressed formally in black, but he can see that she has not surrendered her love for men’s trousers. Stuart Lewis remains seated, his face a mask of concentration, and he studies the papers that are spread out before him. Gabriel hears the door bang shut behind him and he knows that the warder is standing guard behind his back.

“Sit down, Gabriel,” says Katherine, gesturing to the chair on the other side of the table.

Gabriel sits, but Stuart Lewis does not look up at him. The man continues to shuffle through the pile of papers in front of him.

“Gabriel, we just want to know if there’s anything that you’d like to tell us before we go to court this morning.” Katherine pauses, and the man finally looks up. He adjusts his glasses.

“Gabriel, since we last met I’ve spent some time looking through the files. Given the circumstances, there’s little point in having a barrister present.” Katherine sighs, but she remains silent. “I think that only by saying something along the lines that you ‘think’ this thing never happened will you really have a proper opportunity to help yourself. Do you understand?”

Gabriel says nothing. The man begins now to tap his pen and then he quickly shakes his head and pushes back his chair. Katherine leans across the table.

“Are you sure, Gabriel? I mean are you really sure that you remember nothing?”

Gabriel lowers his eyes. Stuart Lewis stands and begins to push the papers into his briefcase. Now it is Katherine’s turn to get to her feet.

“We’ll see you in court, Gabriel. And don’t worry, we’re on your side.” Katherine makes an attempt to look cheerful, but a disappointed Stuart Lewis does not look again in Gabriel’s direction.

As the police van twists and turns its way through the narrow streets, Gabriel peers through the blackened windows at the English people going about their daily business. The driver and the policeman next to him talk and occasionally they throw a comment back in the direction of Gabriel, who sits behind the metal grille.

“I hear they’re gonna put you in with some nice football boys.”

Gabriel does not understand everything they say.

“Chelsea fans, you prefer them, do you?” The men laugh out loud, but Gabriel ignores them and continues to stare out of the window. To Gabriel’s eyes, English people look unhappy, and he notices that they walk with their heads down as though determined to avoid one another. It is strange, but nobody is looking at anybody else, and it would appear that not only are these people all strangers to one another, but they seem determined to make sure that this situation will remain unchanged.

And then suddenly there is no longer a view. They are in a dark underground car park, and both men are now serious. They leave the van together, doors slamming on either side like noisy metal wings. Gabriel hears them unlocking the back door, and then the driver grabs Gabriel by the collar of his shirt. “Come on, sunshine, get up.” Gabriel finds it difficult to maintain his balance with his hands hand-cuffed together, and as they drag him out he bangs his head on the roof of the van. He notices others now, including a half-dozen police officers, and some men with cameras who begin to take pictures, their shutters firing like gunshots and their bright lights flashing in his face. He feels a policeman push down his head so that he is now looking at his shoes, and he is quickly pulled in the direction of an open door. Inside the building there seems to be less commotion. The policeman takes his hand from the back of Gabriel’s head, and Gabriel looks up. They are in a brightly lit corridor. At the end of the corridor, Katherine and Stuart Lewis are waiting for him. As he reaches them, Katherine pats Gabriel on the back, and he notices that since he last saw her she has unfastened her hair so that it is now drifting into her eyes.

“We’ve got a few minutes before the hearing. Are you all right?”

Gabriel nods and looks all about himself. The corridor is filled with policemen who are staring at him, but at least nobody is taking any pictures. Katherine points.

“Come on, we can go in here.”

Stuart Lewis remains in the corridor while Katherine leads the way into a small room, where Gabriel immediately notices that the fluorescent light is blinking on and off. There are a table and four chairs, but on the walls there are neither pictures nor posters, and there are no windows. Gabriel sits across the table from Katherine, and then Stuart Lewis and a policeman come in and the lawyer sits next to Gabriel. Suddenly Stuart Lewis seems relaxed, and he even smiles at Gabriel, who can now see that today the man has what looks like a slight coffee stain on his yellow tie.

“How are we this morning?”

Gabriel is confused by this sudden change of tone. He glances at Katherine, who also seems somewhat puzzled.

“Everything all right, Stuart?”

“Oh yes, everything’s all right.” The lawyer looks at his watch, and then he begins to drum his fingers against the table top.

Katherine waits for a few moments and then she speaks again.

“Stuart, what’s going on?”

The policeman looks at them all in turn, and then he suddenly gets up. He opens the door and steps out into the corridor. Stuart Lewis looks at his watch and then he too stands.

“Stuart, what on earth is going on? I think Gabriel has some right to know, don’t you?”

The lawyer glances again at his watch, and then he looks smugly at Katherine.

“Well, that’s it. The Crown’s lawyer has failed to turn up, and the girl is refusing to testify, so it’s over. I’ve informed the police that you’re taking care of his application for asylum, and so as long as you’ve filed his papers, he’s all yours.”

“So all criminal charges are dropped?”

“The chief witness for the prosecution won’t co-operate, so that’s pretty much it. The case is over, but Mr. Gabriel is not a popular man in these parts. You have filed his papers for asylum?” Katherine nods. “Well, while things are being processed, I would suggest that Mr. Gabriel get as far away from here as possible.”

Katherine stares at Stuart Lewis, who straightens his tie and then pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“Are you going?”

Stuart Lewis seems surprised by the question.

“Of course I’m going. Without the girl there’s no case, and I’ve got other things to attend to. Is there anything else?”

Gabriel looks now at Katherine, who seems confused. She holds her arms out in a gesture of helplessness.

“Well, I suppose not. It’s just that it’s all a bit sudden.” The lawyer moves towards the door.

“Good luck.” He pauses and then looks at Gabriel. “To you both, I mean.” He closes the door after he leaves, and Gabriel and Katherine are left alone.

“Did you understand all of that?” Gabriel does not answer, so Katherine edges her way around the table and sits next to him. “Gabriel, it’s over. The girl has refused to co-operate, so the Crown has had to drop the case. You’re free to go, but Stuart is suggesting that you go far away. I think he’s right. It’s not going to be easy if you stay around here, but that’s not what you want, is it?” Gabriel shakes his head. “Look, I’ll be honest with you, love. Your application’s in and you’re supposed to stick around here, where they’ll house you and feed you as a refugee till they decide if they’ll accept you. My colleagues in the local office here will take care of you.” Katherine pauses. “But the truth is, love, with this hanging over your head, people around here are not going to forget you. You’ll not get a fair hearing.”

Gabriel does not know what to say, and so he waits for Katherine to say something further that will break the silence. Then Katherine takes out a small notepad from her handbag and she begins to write in it.

“Gabriel, I’m going to give you my address in London.” Katherine tears a piece of paper out of her pad and hands it to Gabriel. “Drop me a line if you need anything, but between you and me, your best bet is to do a runner. I shouldn’t be telling you this, but it’s true. Stuart’s right, the press have been all over this case. In fact, even London will be a bit dodgy, given the publicity that you’ve had. Go north. You’ve not really got any papers, so call yourself something else. Take a chance up there as they won’t know who you are.”

“But I did nothing wrong.”

Katherine touches his arm.

“I’m not disputing this, Gabriel. It’s just that people always assume that there’s no smoke without fire. I know it’s unfair, but that’s how it is.”

Gabriel looks closely at the piece of paper that Katherine has given him.

“Can you read it?”

Gabriel nods and Katherine smiles.

“Well, that’s it then.”

“Will I be going back to the prison?”

“I shouldn’t think so. You don’t really have anything, do you?” Gabriel produces his crumpled book from his pocket. “Well, if that’s it, then you’re all set. I’d give you a lift as far as London, but I’ve got to go across to Dover for another case.” Katherine pauses. “You haven’t any money, have you?”

He watches as Katherine reaches into her purse and takes out some notes. First the woman is sharing her private address with him, and now she is offering him money, but Gabriel will not take the money, for this is too much. He looks away, but Katherine is insistent.

“Gabriel, I am going to leave it right here on the table and I want you to take it. You never know.”

“I do not need your money.”

“I beg your pardon?” Katherine’s voice is suddenly filled with indignation.

Gabriel is shocked by his words and he speaks again. “I am sorry. Thank you.”

“Good.” Katherine stands. “I know one of the policemen pretty well. I’ll ask him to give you a lift to the train station in the next town so you can get away from the journalists. I’ll tell him I’m meeting you there later or something. Wait until he goes, and then you’re on your own.” She momentarily stares at him. “But I expect you’re used to that, aren’t you?”

Gabriel stares back at her.

“Good luck, Gabriel.” Katherine closes the door behind her.

Gabriel sits and stares at the money. Then he reaches over and picks up the two notes and pushes them into his trouser pocket.

Gabriel feels the weight of a hand upon his shoulder and the sour smell of a man’s breath on his face.

“Keep it down, mate. You’ll have the whole of Scotland Yard down on our heads if you’re not careful.”

Gabriel looks at the scruffy, unkempt man, whose straggly beard momentarily frightens him. The man’s skin is pale, almost waxen, and now that the man is sure he has Gabriel’s attention, he takes a step back. Gabriel looks around himself and he begins to remember. The policeman bundled him into the back of a car, but this policeman did not handcuff him, nor did he wait for a driver. He pulled his door closed, and then he began to drive out into the countryside. As he did so he tormented Gabriel, asking him about the girl, and what it was like, and how Gabriel would feel if he were to do the same thing to Gabriel’s sister or to his mother. Gabriel had no choice but to listen, but the longer this man talked, the more convinced Gabriel became that the man intended to beat him, or take him to a place where a group of his friends would be waiting to kill him.

Just as Gabriel was beginning to think that in order to save his life he should open the door and jump out and run into a field, they began to approach another town. The policeman did not drive as quickly, and he stopped talking. Eventually the man turned off the engine and sauntered around to the back of the car, where he held open the door and simply said, “Get out.” Gabriel quickly stepped out and onto the pavement, and the man slammed shut the door and said nothing further. Gabriel watched as the car raced off. He felt in his pocket to make sure that he still had the money that the woman had given to him, and then he turned and walked into the train station and towards the place where people were buying tickets.

Some hours later a cold and hungry Gabriel found himself wandering the overcast streets of London, a city bathed in the weak yellow glare of afternoon street lights. The sky was a grey blanket that hung limply over Gabriel’s head, while all around him traffic roared so that no matter which direction he walked in, it was impossible to escape the terrible noise. He discovered the broad majesty of the river, where the crowds were less dense, and he stared in wonder at the great buildings that lined each bank. However, Gabriel could take no pleasure in these incredible sights for there was, as yet, no order to his life. He was lost. He wandered to the centre of one of the many bridges, and he stared down into the blackness and, for a moment, Gabriel wondered what it would be like to drop down into the cool water, having first spiralled through his own reflection. Perhaps he might find peace in the silence and stillness that lay beneath London’s silvery vein. As a sudden washing of traffic across the bridge shook him to his senses, Gabriel decided to leave this river and once more give himself purpose by searching for Bright among the endless streets of the city. However, as a troubled day gave way to the consternation of the night, this task began to overwhelm Gabriel and he was soon eager to abandon his quest.

Night fell quickly, and Gabriel was concerned that a policeman might apprehend him and start to ask difficult questions. He had walked for many miles and his right leg had now begun to distract him, and Gabriel not only wished to feel safe, but was also in desperate need of a place where he might rest. At the point when Gabriel thought that he could probably walk no further, he stumbled upon an unlit park where, through the gloom, he noticed that many men appeared to have settled down to sleep on the benches. The first bench that he sat on disgusted him, for it was only after he leaned back and stretched out that he realised he was sitting next to a used condom that looked as though it had been filleted and opened like a cleaned fish. Gabriel found a different bench and as he lay down he kept his eyes open. Although he was tired he did not feel safe, so he stared at the tree above his head, the large branches hanging over him like a big black canopy. And then he noticed more of them, hanging in the branches like discarded rubber fruit, but he was too tired to move. He rehearsed the events of the day in his mind, a day which had begun in an English prison and was now ending with him lying on a park bench in the capital city of London. And then suddenly the man with the waxen face was upon him, and the sky was bright and clear, and Gabriel realised that he must have fallen asleep.

“You’ve got to keep it down round here.” The man steps back towards Gabriel and sits down on the edge of the bench. “You’re new, aren’t you? I can always tell a new one. You’re disturbed.” The man taps the side of his head with his finger. “Up here. That’s where you’re disturbed. I’m right, aren’t I?” He does not wait for a reply. “You’re worried about your family. You can’t figure out how you got yourself into this situation, that’s it, isn’t it? I know I’m right, aren’t I?” The man laughs quickly and slaps Gabriel’s thigh. “Well, go on, admit it.” The man continues to chuckle to himself.

“For me this is not a good situation.”

The man seems somewhat mystified by Gabriel’s response, so he waits, but Gabriel says nothing further.

“What do you mean, it’s not a good situation?” Gabriel knows that it is foolish to trust the first stranger that he meets, so he decides that he will not tell this man any more. “You’re one of those refugee blokes, aren’t you?” The man seems to visibly relax now that he imagines that he has solved the mystery of Gabriel’s identity. “You’re one of those blokes, aren’t you? Coming into this country to sponge off the welfare state. That’s what they say about you lot.” Gabriel looks at this man, and then he speaks slowly.

“I have not come to this country to take from anybody.”

His new friend seems immediately cheered by this news.

“Well, that’s good then. Here, my name’s Jimmy.” He sticks out a grubby hand, which Gabriel shakes cautiously. “Well, come on then, cat got your tongue? What’s your name?”

“Gabriel.” He utters his one word and then waits for the man to speak again.

“Nice name, Gabriel.” The man pauses and he points to Gabriel’s book, which is falling out of his pocket. “So what you got in there?”

“My book.” Gabriel pushes the book back into place.

“Oh, you’re a big reader then, are you?”

“Sometimes I write things down.”

“Well, that’s handy. Helps you to remember, right?” Gabriel looks at the man, but he says nothing. The man continues. “You know, if you’re so much of a reader, we can go and get some mags and get busy.” Gabriel looks puzzled, but the man continues. “You know, the guide mags. Buy ’em for half the price that we sell ’em for. Keep the rest.” Gabriel has no idea what this filthy man is talking about, but he does not want to give him the wrong impression.

“I am poor. I do not have any money.”

“None at all?” Gabriel shakes his head. “Well, sometimes they might trust you if you’ve got a friendly face.” The man looks closely at Gabriel. “You know, you’ve got a lucky face. Anybody ever tell you that?” Gabriel shakes his head. “I used to think I was lucky till I was had up for drunken driving twice in one week. That’s when my luck ran out.” He laughs now. “It ran out all right, and the bugger’s never come back to me.”

Gabriel follows this man out of the park, across a wide road that takes them an age to negotiate, and then through a succession of streets that seem to dead-end into each other, until they come to a tall office block, which is clearly their destination. There are other “Jimmys” both going into and coming out of the building, and Gabriel begins to panic, fearing that this man might be about to trick him out of his money. He pushes his hands deep into his trouser pockets and clutches the single note and loose coins, and then he reminds himself that, if necessary, he will fight this man, and any others, who attempt to treat him ill. Once they pass inside the building, Gabriel relaxes, for the man appears to know exactly what to do and there are many others present. His new friend approaches a woman who sits behind a desk and he hands her a fist full of coins. The woman counts the money, and then she begins to count ten copies from a bank of magazines that are piled up in front of her.

“How are you today, my love?”

Jimmy grins. She looks at Gabriel and then she looks back to Jimmy. She gestures with her head.

“Friend of yours, is he?”

The man says nothing as he tucks his magazines under his arm. Gabriel, however, notices scorn in the pout of the woman’s lips.

Once they return to the street, Jimmy’s eyes blaze. “Fucking bitch.”

Gabriel is taken aback by this outburst, but he says nothing to the man, who now hands him half the magazines.

“It’s best if we find two different places. We can meet up this evening and you can give me half the money and you keep the rest for yourself.” The man points across the street to an empty doorway. “You take that spot. Hold the magazine up and just say, ‘Only a quid’ or something like that. You understand the money, don’t you?”

Gabriel does not understand the money, but he thinks it best not to trouble his friend any further so he nods and says, “Yes.” Jimmy points towards the other end of the street.

“I’ll be somewhere down there if you need me. I might be around the corner, but I’m around.”

With this said, the man walks off, and Gabriel watches him until he is swallowed up by the pedestrians and disappears from view.

Left by himself, Gabriel crosses the street and stands in the doorway as instructed. He holds the magazines aloft, but none of the passers-by seem in the slightest bit curious and none of them will meet his eyes. And then, after nearly one whole hour of enduring people looking through him as though he did not exist, Gabriel decides that he will find his new friend and regretfully return the magazines. He will thank him for his kind offer of help, but explain that he is in search of a friend, Bright, and he must focus on this one task. Gabriel rolls up the magazines and carefully places them in his jacket, but as he prepares to move off he notices that a man has stopped in front of him, and the man is looking at Gabriel as though he has suddenly recognised a long-lost relative. The man seems to be incapable of speech, and so Gabriel speaks first.

“Do I know you?”

The man now points his arm at Gabriel, like a gun. “I am not sure. Perhaps. I think you are from my country.”

Gabriel waits for the man to say more, but the man seems incapable of further speech. Gabriel says the name of his country, and suddenly the man is overcome with emotion and he looks as though he is going to cry. He opens both arms wide.

“My brother, I cannot believe this. I have been here in England for so long and now I am finally with a countryman.” He laughs and offers his hand to Gabriel. “Emmanuel. They call me Emmanuel.”

Gabriel shakes the man’s hand, but an excited Emmanuel seems reluctant to let go.

“Come, let us go for a drink and talk about what is happening.”

“Right now?”

“Do you have anything else to do? Please, you will come with me. There is plenty of time for selling of papers. And besides, now is not the best time while everyone is at work. Come, please. This is just unbelievable.”

Emmanuel leads the way, taking left turns and right turns in quick succession, and Gabriel hurries after him, too embarrassed to explain to this excitable man that his injury prevents him from rushing like this.

At this time of the morning the pub is half-empty, but Gabriel is fascinated by the velvet-clad wooden chairs and the dimly lit chandeliers, and the torn curtains. In the dark, smoky atmosphere a few people are reading the newspaper, but most are simply alternating between drinking and staring into mid-air. Emmanuel suddenly looks embarrassed.

“Have you any money, my brother?”

Gabriel reaches into his pocket and takes out what is left of the money that Katherine gave to him. Emmanuel takes the single note and the few coins and he points to a seat.

“You wait there. I will bring the beer.”

Gabriel does as he is told, but he keeps a wary eye on Emmanuel, who goes to the bar and says something to the barman. The barman pours the beer into glasses and hands them to Emmanuel, who offers him some money and then waits for the change. Gabriel notices that Emmanuel pockets the money before bringing the two large glasses of beer over to where Gabriel is seated awkwardly with his knees steepled in the narrow gap between the chair and the edge of the low table.

“The nectar of life,” says Emmanuel, as he sits. He raises his glass. “Cheers.”

Gabriel holds out his hand.

“You have money for me?”

Emmanuel laughs. “Of course, but we are having more drinks. Do you not trust me?”

Gabriel tries not to sound too threatening, but his tone is clear.

“I prefer to have my money in my own pocket.”

Emmanuel laughs and puts his hand into his pocket and pulls out a handful of coins.

“You can count it, it is all there.” Gabriel cannot tell if it is all there, but he immediately pushes the coins into his pocket. Emmanuel takes another deep drink of his beer, and then he takes out a crumpled cigarette packet and raps it on the table top as though an actor in a movie. He offers the packet to Gabriel, who politely holds up his hand, but Gabriel is unable to stem the volley of questions. He watches the blue spurt of an ignited match as Emmanuel lights a cigarette and then blows out a huge circle of smoke. And then Emmanuel continues to fire off questions, and he asks his new friend how long he has been in England, and why he came, and how he arrived, and if he came alone, and Gabriel carefully answers all of Emmanuel’s questions, but the more this man asks, the clearer it becomes to Gabriel that he is not going to reveal anything of himself to Emmanuel. His countryman drains his glass of beer and bangs it back down upon the table.

“Another, my brother?”

Gabriel pushes his hand into his pocket and hands some coins to Emmanuel.

“I am just going to the toilet and then I will be back.”

Gabriel narrows his eyebrows, and Emmanuel registers the look of suspicion.

“Or maybe you would like to go to the bar for the drinks?” He holds out the money for Gabriel to take, but Gabriel shakes his head. Emmanuel laughs and gets to his feet. “Finally, you are learning to relax, man. You are in England now. If we do not trust each other, then how are we going to get along? The English think they are superior so they do not care about us. We have only each other. Every day people come up to me and abuse me, but there is nothing that I can do. I have no choice but to be here. And in order to survive among these people, I have to be private and quiet. But when I meet somebody from back home I want to be myself, I want to open up.”

Gabriel watches as Emmanuel pads his way across the dirty carpet towards a door marked “Gentlemen.” Gabriel still has some of his beer to drink, and as he lifts the glass to his mouth he looks around at these people. This is not the England that he thought he was travelling to, and these shipwrecked people are not the people that he imagined he would discover. Under this sad roof, life is stripped of ambition and it is broken. Gabriel takes another sip of the warm beer, but this beer is not to his taste. He decides to ask Emmanuel to order a different type of beer, but there is no sign of Emmanuel. Gabriel continues to wait, until the thought finally crosses his mind that he might be alone. Abandoning his beer, he slowly stands up and crosses the room until he reaches the door marked “Gentlemen.” Once inside he can see that Emmanuel has climbed out of the open window. It is so simple. Gabriel leaves the filthy toilet and walks back into the pub and then out onto the street. He looks first left, then right, but Gabriel is unsure of which direction he should turn in order that he might find Jimmy. He imagines that Jimmy will be thinking that he has sold the magazines and made off with the money. Gabriel puts his hand into his pocket and pulls out the few coins that he has left. He also pulls out a piece of paper and notices Katherine’s address.

The London sky has darkened like a bruise, and Gabriel still does not recognise a single building that he walks past, or a junction that he crosses, or a street that he turns into. For hours he has searched for first Jimmy, then Emmanuel, and finally Bright, but he now understands that these directionless streets were not laid out to welcome the feet of newcomers. And then it begins to rain, and umbrellas open up all around him like impatient flowers, and those without umbrellas move hastily as though they are trying to step between the drops of rain, and a sodden Gabriel simply holds the piece of paper before him as though it were a passport of some kind. He asks an Englishman in a suit and tie if he knows the way to Katherine’s address, but the man stares at Gabriel as though he is in the presence of a madman and he barely looks at the damp piece of paper. Gabriel asks another man, who waves him away, and then another man who studies the paper for a while. He is a younger man and he dresses casually, as though he is on his way out for the night as opposed to going home from work. Finally the man gives the paper back to Gabriel, and then he points.

“Get a bus down there. Number thirty-eight. Ask the conductor to put you out on Upper Street, and then just ask anybody.”

“Thank you. I am very grateful.” Gabriel smiles at the man.

“Got any money?”

Gabriel nods. “I have a little.”

“Well, if you smartened yourself up a bit, I could show you how to make some easy money.”

Gabriel looks at the man, who points to the copies of the magazines that are sticking out of his pocket.

“There are easier ways of making money than that, or has nobody told you the facts of life?”

Gabriel remains baffled.

“You don’t get it, do you?”

Gabriel begins to walk away from this man, who now laughs and shouts after him.

“Let me know if you need somebody to be your daddy.”

Gabriel does not turn around. In his own country he would have killed this man and nobody would have held him responsible for his actions. A disgusted Gabriel can barely contain his anger as he walks, and then he discovers the bus stop and he joins a short line. He stands behind a poverty-stricken woman who carries her small child in her arms. Gabriel looks closely and is surprised to see that the child has two earrings in each ear, but it is the small nose, which looks as though it has been finger-moulded out of damp clay, that shocks him, for it contains a large gold stud.

When the bus comes he follows the woman onto it, but he sits downstairs in a seat by himself. Gabriel is relieved that the bus conductor is a West Indian man, and he holds out his coins.

“I wish to go to Upper Street, please.”

The man takes a single coin. “I’ll let you know, mate.” He winks at Gabriel as he says this.

Gabriel is too frightened to respond, so instead he looks out of the window. His mind drifts and it occurs to Gabriel that he might arrive at Katherine’s house and then discover that she is not there. She may still be working, or she may have gone out for the evening, but as he continues to think about these possibilities his eyes begin to close.

“Upper Street, mate.”

Gabriel stands up and the conductor points to his rolled-up magazines.

“You selling them or wearing them?” The man laughs.

“Would you like one?” Gabriel peels a single copy out of his pocket, and the man laughs and gives Gabriel a coin in exchange for the magazine.

“You’ll have to be a bit more in-your-face if you want to get rid of them.”

Gabriel steps from the bus and looks around as it pulls away. He takes out the piece of paper with Katherine’s address on it, and he approaches a man who, even at this late hour, is still selling newspapers. Gabriel simply says, “Please,” and shows the man the piece of paper. The man pushes his glasses up and onto the top of his head so that they are nesting in his hair, and then he squints at the writing in the gloom.

“Over there, mate.” He points across the road. “Just go down the street over there. It’s on the left.”

Gabriel thanks the man, and as he crosses the road, the London sky once again begins to weep gentle rain. He holds his gaping jacket together, and he walks cautiously down the side street until he comes to number twenty-seven. He can see that this is an affluent neighbourhood, for the houses have gardens at the front that are neat and well maintained. Also, the cars that are parked on this street are all expensive models that Gabriel recognises as the type that ministers or businessmen in his country liked to drive. However, there is one car that disturbs Gabriel, for a metal coat hanger has been twisted into the shape of a crushed diamond, then hopelessly inserted into a hole in the bonnet to serve as a radio aerial. This car suddenly reminds Gabriel of home, and of his own dreams of one day owning a vehicle, but he turns from the car and its makeshift aerial and realises that he has finally discovered the house.

The lights are on, so Gabriel knows that Katherine is at home, but he is now unsure of what he might say to her. He unfastens the gate and walks gingerly up the path. Once he reaches the door, Gabriel presses the bell, but nothing happens, so he knocks at the door, and as he waits he hears, somewhere in the distance, the thin, high-pitched whistle of what he imagines to be a passing train. After a few moments, Katherine appears before him with a book in one hand. She is wearing dark-rimmed glasses, which make her appear older.

“Gabriel? What are you doing here?”

Gabriel does not know what to say. Katherine is not being particularly friendly, which only deepens his embarrassment.

“I’m sorry,” he stammers. “I should not be disturbing you like this, but I have no money. I have been robbed.”

Katherine looks alarmed, and then the door opens wider and a much older man with grey hair appears at Katherine’s shoulder. Katherine turns to him.

“Leonard, this is Gabriel. The man I was telling you about from the coast. The one whose case was dismissed.”

Leonard speaks to Katherine without taking his eyes from Gabriel. “Yes, of course I remember him. What’s he doing here?”

Katherine is now visibly angry. “Leonard!” she snaps, but the man just turns from Gabriel and disappears inside. Katherine sighs deeply, and then she looks again at the stranger on her doorstep.

“Just give me a minute, Gabriel.” Katherine pushes the door closed, and she leaves Gabriel by himself.

Gabriel hears raised voices and it is clear that both people are angry, but the louder the man shouts, the more Katherine seems to be able to match him in volume and intensity. As Gabriel listens he wonders if he should just leave now, for clearly he is the cause of this conflict. As he thinks about whether to turn and walk away, Katherine reappears at the door with her coat on.

“Come on, Gabriel.” Katherine slams the door behind her and marches down the garden path, leaving Gabriel in her wake. “Trust me, Gabriel, you don’t want to stay here.” Katherine opens the door to a small blue car and then climbs in. She leans over and pushes open the passenger door for Gabriel. “Get in, get in.”

Gabriel folds himself into the small car and he sits next to Katherine.

“Seat belt.” Gabriel looks blankly at her. “Put on your seat belt.” Katherine leans over and somewhat impatiently straps him into place. Gabriel feels embarrassed, for although he knows what seat belts are, he is not used to seeing people use them. Katherine lights a cigarette, and then she starts the engine. She holds the packet of cigarettes out to Gabriel, but he shakes his head. Katherine pushes them back into her bag, and then she engages the gear and swings the car out into the street and screeches away. Katherine drives for some minutes before she speaks.

“Gabriel, I’m sorry about that. Leonard knows about the case and, like everybody else, he thinks that there’s probably something to it.”

Gabriel says nothing and Katherine shoots him a quick glance.

“I’m talking about the girl, Gabriel. I told him, and he also read about it in the papers.”

Gabriel nods so that Katherine will know that he understands what she is talking about. Katherine continues to drive, and Gabriel stares out of the window, where the rain seems to be getting heavier.

“Gabriel, I’m taking you to the motorway so that you can hitch a ride. Just ask to be put out somewhere in the north. Lorry drivers love having people to talk to, especially at night.” They stop now at a traffic light, and Katherine reaches into her bag and pulls out a single note. “You weren’t hurt when you were robbed, were you?”

Gabriel shakes his head.

“No, it was one of my own people. He tricked me.”

Katherine laughs. “Welcome to England. Look, tuck this away for emergencies.” She pushes the note into Gabriel’s hand, then changes gear and pulls away from the traffic light. “It might help with food or something. I’m sure you’ll find some kind of work in the north, and you really should become somebody else, Gabriel. I know you don’t want to do this, but it will really help.” She pauses. “Unfortunately, there’s plenty of Leonards in the world.”

Gabriel does not know what to say in reply to this, so he simply looks out of the window as they drive on in silence through the seemingly endless streets of London. Katherine turns on the radio, but the pop music only seems to deepen the sense of embarrassment that Gabriel feels. It is shameful to have placed himself at the mercy of this woman, and to have troubled her life in this manner. However, as hard as he tries, he can think of nothing he might say that would repair the damage between them. As he once more turns to look out of the window, he feels Katherine beginning to slow the car down, and then she pulls over to the left-hand side of the road.

“I’m going to let you out here, Gabriel.” She pauses. “Not much I can do about the rain, I’m afraid.” She points now to where the road divides. “I’m going to the right, but you should just walk around the corner to the left and you’ll soon get a lift, if you start to hitch. You know, put out your thumb, like this.” Katherine demonstrates. “Just remember you want to go north.” Gabriel nods. “Gabriel, I’m sorry I can’t do more for you than this, but as you can see I’ve got things to sort out at home.”

Gabriel prepares to open the door to the car. Although he knows that Katherine is dismissing him, he is not angry.

“Thank you, Katherine.”

She smiles at Gabriel. “I’m sorry, love.” Katherine points to the copies of Jimmy’s magazine. “You can leave them. You won’t be needing them where you’re going.”

Gabriel takes them from his pocket, hands them to Katherine, and then he climbs out of the car and into the rain.

“Good luck.” Katherine tosses the magazines onto the now empty passenger seat, then she leans over and blows Gabriel a kiss. “I feel bad putting you out in this weather, but don’t you worry, somebody will soon take pity.” Katherine pulls in the car door. Gabriel stands and watches as Katherine indicates, then moves out and into the traffic. He stares at her small blue car until it disappears around the corner and out of sight.

Gabriel walks towards the point where the road divides. There are no other people in sight, only cars and lorries that roar past him at high speed. Gabriel sees a figure in the windswept, sodden gloom with a thumb turned up in the manner that Katherine demonstrated. This makes Gabriel feel somewhat better as he has no desire to be alone in this desolate place. However, as he moves closer he can see that his fellow hitch-hiker is a young woman, and as she notices Gabriel moving towards her, the alarm in her eyes is unmistakable. Her mouth half-opens, as though a cry is being stifled somewhere at the back of her throat, but Gabriel has little choice but to lower his eyes and continue to walk towards her.

The girl points again to the plastic bag that Gabriel is holding on his lap.

“Well, go on then. Have some more food. What’s the matter with you?”

Gabriel shakes his head, then he shields his eyes from the light that is spilling in through the cracked windows.

“No, thank you. I am fine.”

He bristles with anger at the way this girl is speaking to him, but he tries hard to control these feelings and to recognise that the girl has been generous for, as promised, she has returned with food. However, he finds her manner irritating, and her appearance, with her dirty, unwashed blonde hair, and her skirt riding up her thigh, is unacceptable.

“You’re not hungry any more, is that it?” Now she seems child-like, and almost hurt.

Gabriel puts the bag on the floor and looks at the girl.

“Do you have parents? And please, do they know that you are not at school?”

She laughs and tosses her head as though to indicate the stupidity of the question.

“I already told you, my dad’s unemployed and my mum left ages ago. I don’t know where she is. Got no idea.”

“But does your father not want you to go to school?”

“He doesn’t care, does he? I sometimes work at McDonald’s and he likes that because it means if he fancies a Big Mac and fries, he doesn’t have to pay for it. He spends nearly all his giro on booze. Why should he care if I go to school or not?”

Gabriel suspects that this line of questioning is annoying her, so he says nothing further. They fall into silence, which she finally breaks by pointing to his leg.

“Is it better now?”

Gabriel taps his leg, as though to reassure himself.

“Yes, it is much better, thank you. I think it will be fine.”

“You got here on a boat, didn’t you? One of the cross-Channel ferries.”

“I hurt myself when I jumped into the water.” She shakes her head now.

“It’s a wonder you’re alive. It’s bleeding freezing out there. I wouldn’t go in that water if you paid me. Barry, he used to be a lifeboat man. I told him he’s mad doing something like that, but he wouldn’t listen. He’s my old boyfriend. But he dumped me because I suppose he got frightened on account of my being too young. He could have gone to prison, but I didn’t care. Anyhow that’s all he wanted to do, just start on right away, then get to the pub.” Gabriel continues to listen to her, but she is no longer making any sense. “What’s Africa like? It’s not really jungle and animals, is it? I know that much. My dad probably thinks it is, but he’s never been anywhere in his life. Claims he once went to Southampton, but that’s about it. He says if you live by the water you don’t need to go anywhere because all the world comes to you, but that’s a load of rubbish. That’s just his excuse for being a lazy sod.”

Gabriel has no idea how to participate in this conversation, but he has no desire to embarrass the girl with his silence. And then, as though sensing Gabriel’s bewilderment, the girl gets to her feet and announces that she has to go now.

“I can come back later, if you like. You ever had fish and chips? I can bring you some.”

Gabriel looks at the girl standing before him in her school uniform, imagining that she is already a woman. He reminds himself that in his country many girls of her age already have babies and responsibilities, and they do not swear, and they are not abusive about their parents, and they would never sit alone with a man in this way. It is difficult for Gabriel to tell if this girl is typical of all English girls, but although he remains grateful to her for bringing him food, he still does not trust her. She moves quickly to the door.

“I’ll see you later then.”

Gabriel watches her walk down the path towards the road, and then her small, overweight body begins to run, as though she is late for an appointment.

Gabriel closes the door. He picks up the plastic bag, and then he looks inside and can see that it contains more bread and cheese. First, he drinks some more of the water, and then he eats quickly and without any concern for decorum. Having finished, Gabriel leans back in the chair and decides that he must follow Bright to London, and that he should leave as soon as possible. And then Gabriel feels somebody pulling his arm, and almost immediately a strange greasy smell wafts over him. Denise speaks loudly.

“Come on, wake up. I’ve brought you the fish and chips.”

Gabriel opens his eyes and sees Denise looking down at him. She thrusts a warm bundle of paper into his hands, and then she sits and begins to unwrap her own parcel.

“You should be careful, you know, about falling asleep like that. You never know who might wander in.” She laughs out loud now, clearly amused by her own humour.

Although the smell of this food nauseates him, Gabriel begins to eat.

“Do you like it then?” Gabriel nods and he continues to eat. Then he remembers his manners.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Denise speaks with her mouth full.

Gabriel stares at the girl and tries to control his anger. “Do you not eat meals with your father?”

Denise laughs so hard that she begins to cough.

“Are you all right?” Gabriel puts down his food and passes her the water, which she drinks, loudly.

“Some of it went down the wrong way.”

Gabriel does not feel like finishing his food so he wraps it back up in the paper. Denise resumes eating and she continues to speak with her mouth full.

“You haven’t told me anything about yourself. You got a wife? And can you sing or dance or do something like that? I mean, I’ve seen you lot dance, it’s like you’re sweating away all your problems. Like you’re in a trance or something, shaking your head and everything.”

“I cannot sing or dance.” He is about to tell her that he was a soldier, and that soldiers do not sing or dance, but he stops himself for he cannot share this information with a child.

“Well, you got a wife then?”

She is asking him questions that do not concern her, and it troubles him that she cannot see that he is a grown man and she is merely a child. She does not wait for him to answer.

“Me, I don’t like families. Especially my dad.”

Gabriel is disquieted by the new tone of melancholy that floods this girl’s voice. Denise lowers her eyes, and then she pushes the remains of her fish and chips to one side. Unlike Gabriel she does not bother to wrap them up. Suddenly she seems distressed, and Gabriel feels moved to rescue her.

“I do not have a family,” says Gabriel. “They were all killed in the war in my country. But I am here in your country because I wish to be able to take care of my children who are as yet unborn.”

“I don’t get it.”

“I am thinking of the future. But God could make it easier for us all if he simply made it possible for my people to march out in peace. Back home many of us continue to suffer.”

She looks up at him.

“I wish they’d kill my dad.”

“You must not talk like that. It is evil to have such thoughts.”

“I’m not evil. He’s the one who’s evil.” Denise comes over to where Gabriel is sitting and she rolls up the sleeves of her sweater. “These bruises, you see them?” She points to the bruises on her stubby arms. “That’s where I have to block the punches when he comes home pissed and starts on at me. Every now and then one gets through and I get a black eye or lose another tooth. Nice guy, eh? Which is why my mum left. She got it worse than me.” Gabriel looks at her bruises, and then at her young, outraged face. “Then Barry, he started with his fists when I didn’t do what he wanted. The pair of them are just the same. Anything to get their way. They’re sick, all of them. Just sick.” And now the girl begins to shed silent tears, which unsettles Gabriel.

“Please do not disturb yourself like this.”

Gabriel puts his hand on her bare arm.

“Please. You are safe here. This is your safe place. There is no need to cry like this.”

Denise puts her head on Gabriel’s shoulder and he can feel her body rising and falling as she continues to sob. He hears a soft pop as her lips separate, and he prepares to listen to her. But whatever it was the girl was going to say, she decides to stifle it inside. Gabriel understands that this house that he and Bright have stumbled across is, for this girl, a place of safety. His anger at her manner, and her way of speaking to him, begins to subside as he realises just how vulnerable she is. He puts his arm around her and holds her. There is something comforting about her young weight on his body, and Gabriel decides to stay in this position until she calms down.

The man on the bunk beneath Gabriel is clearly sick. He hawks and spits blood, and every time he does so he says something which to Gabriel sounds like a prayer. And then he apologises to Gabriel. After being in this cell for an hour, Gabriel is beginning to resign himself to the fact that in all likelihood he will be sent back to Africa. All the money, and the sacrifices of the journey, may have come to this. To be locked up in a prison cell with a sick man who, like himself, is a refugee in England. A man whose life seems also to have run aground. But Gabriel tries to remain strong. He has done nothing wrong. They simply fell asleep, that is all. They slept. In the morning, the girl’s father led the police to the house, where he first attacked his daughter, and then began to beat Gabriel with a metal pipe until the police pulled him off.

The procedure at the police station was swift and disrespectful. Gabriel was photographed, fingerprinted, then charged and told that he could make one phone call before being transferred to the local prison. Once there, the day warder told Gabriel that he was lucky, for there was an immigration lawyer in the visiting room seeing somebody else, and that when she had finished she would come along to see him. In the meantime, the warder took Gabriel to a cell which already contained a sick man, and while Gabriel waited for the lawyer, he thought again of the girl and felt his mind beginning to wander. She had ridden to the police station in another car, and Gabriel imagined that she must be frightened. He worried about what she was saying, or what she had already said, but no matter what anybody might say, Gabriel knew that he did not force himself upon the girl. He had done nothing wrong. He was guilty of nothing that would bring shame on his family name. When Gabriel looked up he saw a woman standing silently by the door to his cell. The prison warder pointed.

“That’s him. Do you want to talk to him?” Gabriel’s eyes met those of a small, masculine woman who tucked a strand of loose hair away from her face and behind an ear. She looked up at the warder and nodded.

“Oi, you!” The warder shouted. “Down here.”

Gabriel climbed down from the top bunk, and the warder addressed the woman.

“I’ll give you five minutes to let him know what’s what, then I’ll be back. Any trouble, just shout.”

The warder walked off and left Gabriel standing with the woman. She looked over Gabriel’s shoulder towards his cellmate, but she said nothing about this man. She returned her gaze to Gabriel.

“Hi, I’m Katherine. I work for an immigration law firm and we should have a talk.” She waited, but her prospective client said nothing, so she continued. “Your situation is made all the more complicated by the other charge. You do understand this, don’t you?”

Gabriel knew the woman was trying to help, but he wanted her to understand.

“Please, I did nothing bad. The girl was not unhappy.”

Katherine arched her eyebrows. “The girl is fifteen, Gabriel. The father says you were intimate with her. I’m going to get you a lawyer, and then the official charges will be brought by a Crown Prosecutor and you will have a chance to defend yourself.”

Gabriel clung tightly to the bars of the cell with both hands.

“But I did nothing wrong. You must believe me.”

The woman nodded, and then she pointed.

“That man, does he need some medical attention?”

Gabriel turned to look at his cellmate.

“I think he is suffering.” Having said this, Gabriel turned back to look at the woman. “Please, I have done nothing wrong. And I cannot go back to my country or they will kill me.”

“Look, give me a day or so and we’ll try to get you the best lawyer. Meanwhile, using what information you’ve already given to the police, I’ll start the asylum procedures.” She paused. “I’d better go now. The warder did this for me as a favour.” She looked again at his cellmate. “And keep an eye on him. People have a habit of not calling a doctor in these places. Until it’s too late, that is.”

Gabriel glanced at his cellmate, who seemed to be attempting to sleep, and then he looked again at Katherine, who smiled and nodded at the same time.

“I’ll see you later, then.”

Gabriel watched the woman walk off, and long after she had disappeared from view he continued to stare after her, imagining that it would be from her direction that hope might eventually emerge.

Gabriel looks up and registers the girl’s face transforming itself from alarm to outright fear, but he keeps walking through the driving rain. He is tempted to say “hello,” but he is unsure of how she might respond and so he once more lowers his eyes. He decides to stop some fifty yards past the girl, and he turns and peers back down the road. The girl appears to have recovered, for she once again holds her thumb out in the hope of attracting the attention of passing vehicles. But at present there is no traffic, only rain.

Gabriel waits. He holds out his thumb, but he does so awkwardly as though embarrassed to find himself begging in this manner. And then a car splashes to a halt just beyond the girl, and Gabriel watches as she sprints the few yards and jumps in. The car speeds off and now Gabriel is alone. Once again the wind picks up, and the rain becomes torrential. There is no place to shelter, so Gabriel continues to hold out his thumb in the hope that somebody might take pity on him, but car after car, and lorry after lorry, swish by, their headlights cutting through the driving rain, but none stop for Gabriel. He thinks of Denise, and he wonders if she ever thinks of him. After all, she chose not to speak out against him. Surely she must think of him and wonder what has happened to her friend? Perhaps the honourable thing would be to go back and rescue her from her situation, but he understands that this would not be wise. As he continues to think about Denise, a lorry slows beyond him, its red tail-lights glowing in the darkness, and then it comes to a complete standstill. Gabriel walks tentatively towards the passenger side, his eyes stinging from the slashing rain. When he reaches the lorry, the passenger door swings open and a heavy-set man in a tight T-shirt peers down at Gabriel.

“You getting in, or have you got gills?”

Gabriel doesn’t understand, but the man seems friendly enough. He climbs up and is suddenly embarrassed to be dripping water all over the man’s seat. The man reaches behind his seat for a musty-smelling towel and he tosses it at Gabriel.

“Don’t worry about the wet.” The man begins to pull out into the traffic, and then he starts to laugh. “Look at the windows. You’re steaming the place up.” He takes the towel from Gabriel and rubs the inside of the windows with it, and then he tosses it back at Gabriel. “What were you doing out there, mate, building an ark?” The man laughs at his own humour and then he points to the radio. “Do you want music or do you want to talk? You blokes seem to have a routine.”

“Thank you.”

The man looks quizzically at Gabriel and withdraws his hand from the radio controls. He looks again at Gabriel. “Heading north, I take it?” Gabriel nods.

“Yes, please, north.”

The man registers this information and for a few moments he drives on in silence.

“Now you’re not an Afro-Caribbean, are you?”

Gabriel shakes his head and speaks quietly.

“No, I am from Africa.”

“Africa!” exclaims the man, as though it all makes sense now. “You wanna smoke?”

Again Gabriel shakes his head.

“What’s your name, then?”

Gabriel thinks for a moment and then remembers what Katherine told him. “Solomon,” he says. “My name is Solomon.”

“Like in the Bible.” Gabriel nods.

“Yes, of course. Something like that.”