Close to the Wind (23 page)

‘We have a problem with your cat.’ Lucy leaned across her plate of grilled mackerel and rhubarb.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Malik immediately.

But Lucy shook her head, ‘There’s nothing to be sorry about. He uses the litter tray but he also needs to go out. That’s all. He sits on the window ledge and pines. I’ve only ever had house cats. My Siamese wouldn’t know what to do if they were faced with a tree or a bird. And if they ever met a dog …’ She ate a mouthful of her food, unable to say what might happen if they ever met a dog. She pointed to his supper. ‘Don’t let yours get cold.’

Malik cut a slice of his chicken escalope and ate it. He put ketchup on his chips.

‘It’s a question of logistics.’ Lucy waved her fork in the air as she talked. ‘We live in a third-floor apartment on a busy street.’

‘I could take him for a walk,’ suggested Malik.

‘What a good idea!’ Lucy took a sip of her wine. ‘Do you know, I think that might work.’

Lucy went to the shops and came back with a blue velvet lead that could clip onto the ring of Booty’s collar. She also bought a pocketbook map of the city, marked the street where they lived with a big red dot and turned the corner of the page so Malik could always find it.

Malik planned a route to the park. The most direct route took four streets and it looked easy enough. Booty didn’t seem to mind the lead, though he either walked very slowly or very quickly, and sometimes he wouldn’t walk at all but would roll on his back in the sun and he wouldn’t get up till he was ready. Malik didn’t mind. Going slow got him accustomed to the sound of busy streets.

On the way to the park, he passed a barber’s shop where he saw a man lying back in a big black chair
while his chin was shaved. Further on he saw a sweet shop that had tall glass jars in the window, full of red and yellow sweets. Malik didn’t dare to go in. Anyway, he didn’t have any money yet.

At the park, Booty dug his claws high into the bark of a tree and stretched himself out. He sniffed at bushes and lay on the lawn with Malik, their heads right next to a big yellow dandelion as they listened to the birdsong.

On the way home, Malik took a different route that he traced on the map with his finger. It took him past a jeweller’s shop and Malik stopped and looked in the window at the pretty rings and necklaces. Of all the jewels in the shop, the most expensive were diamonds, and none of the diamonds were as big as the one he had hidden at home. Malik made a point of remembering the price of the ring that cost the most.

At the end of their meal, Lucy left a couple of coins in a dish, as a tip for the waiter.

Malik picked one up. He held it up in front of Lucy’s face and flourished his other hand across the front to make it disappear.

Lucy clapped her hands. ‘Very good! How did you do that?’

‘It’s a secret. It’s called a French Drop.’

‘Fair enough. But it’s not over, is it? I want my coin back. I need to pay the waiter for his trouble.’

Malik reached behind her ear. He transferred the coin from his palm to his fingers and made it reappear before her eyes.

‘How fantastic. How did you learn that?’

‘It takes practice.’

‘And do you know any more tricks?’

Malik shook his head. ‘I only know that one.’

‘Well, it’s a good trick to know. Who taught you how to do it?’

Malik wouldn’t look at her. He picked up a fork and pushed a green bean around the rim of his plate.

Lucy put the coin back in the little dish. ‘I’m sorry. I ask too many questions. People tell me it’s a bad habit but I think it’s good to be inquisitive. Perhaps you don’t agree? I’ve noticed you never ask me anything.’

Malik put down his fork. ‘How much is a ticket for the boat back home?’

‘I have no idea but I can find out for you.’ Lucy looked worried. ‘Don’t you like living here?’

Malik shook his head quickly. ‘It’s not that. I like it very much. But I need to go back, and I can’t leave it too long or I’ll forget things.’

Lucy laid her hands out on the table. ‘Malik, the town where you came from is still very dangerous. It won’t always be that way, but at the moment I can’t think of anyone that would take you back there. I doubt whether there will even be a ship that goes there.’ She hesitated. ‘Could I ask why you want to go back?’

Malik watched her carefully. ‘People don’t always believe me.’

Lucy put her hand on his. ‘I will believe you and perhaps I can help.’

Malik made a decision not to tell her about the diamond, but he told her about the soldiers coming to his house and he told her about the dying dog in the cellar and how Papa had tricked him into getting on the ship. And he told her that Mama had disappeared and he didn’t know how to find her.

When he was finished Lucy said, ‘We can write some letters. That’s not difficult. It’s all about
knowing how to do things and luckily I have some experience.’ She pulled her glasses down her nose and gave him a straight look. ‘But you should know, Malik, that these things take time. Sometimes they take a very long time and you don’t always get the answers you are looking for. You must promise me you won’t stop living while you wait.’

Lucy found Malik a school that was close enough for him to walk to. It had small classes and was accustomed to refugees. She bought him a blazer that was too warm and a shirt with a collar that was stiff to begin with, but Malik was pleased they wore long trousers. He made new friends who showed him new games and were impressed that he knew a magic trick to make things disappear. After a little while Malik accepted that the lessons weren’t so different from the way he had been taught back home.

Lucy made a point of paying him his allowance on the first day of the week. ‘This is for you,’ she would say and count out three blue notes and fold them into his hand. ‘You can save it or spend it as you wish.’

Malik spent the money the same way each time. He saved one of the notes in the drawer of his desk. He spent another on a bag of fudge from the sweet shop, and he spent the third on a bus ticket down to the port, where he watched the passengers disembark from the tall ships that docked there every Saturday. On the journey he would look out for Steffan and Oskar, thinking he might see them on a street corner somewhere, though he never did.

When the winter changed the weather for the worse, Malik acquired a coat made from sheepskin, a woollen hat and a scarf with the crest of an eagle on it. Lucy often took him to the theatre as she had promised to do and they wrapped up warm, walked back after dark and had a late supper in the bar across the street.

Lucy asked Malik lots of questions about his life before he came to live with her. She asked him Papa’s surname, what he did for a living, whether he knew this man or that man, where Mama used to work and what she did for a living. She asked about the name Kusak. Was it common where he came from? Did he know anyone else with a similar name? She asked him the names of the streets in his town, and when he didn’t know many of them, she
bought a map to work them out. She said there were all sorts of questions that might give them information to help them with their search and Malik didn’t mind – he found it a good way to keep from forgetting.

On one such evening, they were in the bar. They had eaten pasta and Lucy had ordered coffee. She put a hand in her bag and produced a large brown envelope that had been folded in half. Malik recognized the stamps on the front.

‘I think I have some news of Papa.’ She took papers from the envelope and held them out so Malik could see. On the top was a copy of Papa’s passport; it had his name, Salvatore Bartholomew, and a photograph that left no doubt.

‘That’s him!’ Malik touched the face with his finger. ‘That’s Papa! Where did you find him?’

‘Malik, I’m sorry but this isn’t good news.’ Lucy showed him another piece of paper. ‘It came with this.’ She held out a copy of a certificate of burial, from a graveyard on the outskirts of the town. Malik remembered seeing it on the map they had at home.

Lucy took his hand. When she touched his face, Malik couldn’t feel it. ‘See the date there? That’s
about three months after you came to live with me. I think this must be true.’

Malik took his hand away from hers. He put it down under the table and held the front of his trousers. ‘What about Mama?’ he asked quietly. ‘Is there anything there about her?’

Lucy shook her head. ‘I’ve heard nothing of your mother yet. Not a word.’

Malik stayed in his bedroom for a week without coming out.

He heard Lucy ring his school and tell them he was ill.

He heard her clip the lead to Booty’s collar and take him for a walk.

He heard her leave plates of food outside the bedroom door.

Later, when Malik decided to come out of his room, he went and stood by the photograph in the hall.

‘That’s me there,’ Lucy told him. ‘I’m the little baby in my mother’s arms. There’s my daddy and my older brother George.’

‘You told me you came here in a ship on your own.’

‘I did.’

‘And did they ever come and find you?’

Lucy smiled sadly. ‘No, sweetheart, they never did. That house we are standing in front of was bombed with all of us in it. I don’t know
why
it was bombed, but I know
when
and I know by
who
. We weren’t very wealthy and my mother had put me in a drawer to sleep and that’s where I was discovered. I had to find all this out later, you understand, when I was grown-up. But it’s better to know, I think.’