Sammi and Dusty (2 page)

Sammi gazed up at the big metal sign outside the gates. He pointed out the words to his six-year-old sister Giti.

‘It says C –
i – t – y
. City. F –
a – r – m.
Farm,’ he read for her.

Giti nodded, taking it all in.

‘I don’t know why they say you have a problem at school,’ commented his mum, in Pashtun. ‘You seem to be able to read everything.’

Sammi shook his head. It just wasn’t that simple. ‘I can chat to people, a bit,’ he told her. ‘And I can read some things, but I get lost all the time when I’m in class.’

‘If you say so,’ she said, sighing. ‘Well, come on. Let’s go in and see what this farm thing is all about.’

Sammi took a deep breath. He wasn’t sure what
this farm thing
would be about, either. He couldn’t see how it was going to help him. It wouldn’t give him the things he missed, would it? Not his friends, his way of life, all the things he’d grown up with – or his dad. And he had no idea why everyone thought it might help him with school. What did a farm have to do with learning English or having to sit in a baby class?

He pushed the metal gates open and stepped into the farmyard. At once, it was as though the bustle of the city outside faded away. He heard a sheep bleating somewhere, and ducks quacking. Then a hen and her chicks made their way across the yard, pecking at this and that.

‘Chickens,’ said Giti proudly, in English. She grinned up at him. She was learning English so fast it was amazing – and she’d only just started school. Sammi envied her. Soon she’d have completely forgotten the time when she spoke only Pashtun. She’d be way ahead of him!

It was even harder for his mum. Sitting at home, with only his uncle for company every now and then, she was struggling to pick up any English at all. He glanced across at her tense face as a lively black woman emerged from the big building ahead of them, and came over.

‘Hello, hello!’ said the black woman with a friendly smile. ‘I’m Kerry Barker, the Harvest Hope project co-ordinator. You’re Sammi, aren’t you? And this is your mum?’

Sammi nodded. ‘And Giti. My sister.’

‘Welcome to City Farm,’ said Kerry. ‘I expect you’d like to come in for a chat?’

Sammi’s mum was looking at Kerry earnestly, but he knew she hadn’t understood a word she’d said. He felt a bit embarrassed for her. ‘She’s inviting you inside,’ he muttered to her in Pashtun.

They walked up to the big old building. It was
really
old. Sammi stared up at it, wondering if it was something the Victorians had built. Then he pushed the thought away – he wasn’t in any hurry to start thinking about the Victorians again. He’d had enough of British history! Inside, he was surprised at how scruffy everything seemed to be. When he’d first arrived in England, he’d expected things to be shiny and new – after all, it was a rich country, wasn’t it? But here in the barn there was an old wooden bookshelf, a faded sofa and chairs, and wooden beams showing through the brickwork. He frowned. He wasn’t sure he liked it at all.

‘Come and meet the team,’ said Kerry, leading them over to an older man who was cradling a mug in his hands. ‘This is Rory, the farm manager.’

Rory had a mop of white hair and twinkly blue eyes. He stepped forward to shake his mum’s hand, then he bent down and shook Giti’s hand too, and finally turned to Sammi.

‘Welcome, young Sammi,’ he said. ‘I know you’re a long way from the things you’re used to, but you’ll do all right here, lad. You’ll feel more at home, by and by.’

Sammi liked Rory at once, but he could barely understand a word he said. His English sounded different to anything he’d ever heard before! His mouth opened and closed like a fish as he tried to think of what to say.

Kerry must have understood, because she smiled. ‘Rory’s from the north of England,’ she told Sammi. ‘He speaks with a bit of an accent. You’ll soon get the hang of it.’

She beckoned a slight girl over from the far end of the barn, where she was arranging a bunch of fresh flowers. The girl stepped back from the vase with her head on one side, checking it over, then skipped across to say hello.

‘This is Asha,’ Kerry told them. ‘She’s one of our volunteers. She comes whenever she’s got a spare moment, don’t you, Asha?’

‘You bet I do,’ said Asha, grinning enthusiastically.

Sammi stared at Asha curiously. She was really tiny, and she had really short black hair. She almost looked as though she could be from Afghanistan, but he knew from her voice that she’d grown up here in the UK. And maybe her family had come from somewhere else, anyway, like India or Pakistan.

‘Who is this girl?’ asked his mum, in Pashtun. She was staring at Asha in curiosity too, and Asha began to look self-conscious.

‘She’s on the project, like me,’ Sammi told her in a low voice. ‘Mum, please stop talking in Pashtun.’ Sammi was getting mad at her. There was an awkward silence for a second, and Sammi realized that everyone else was waiting for him and his mum to finish their conversation.

‘Is Jack around?’ Kerry asked Rory.

‘He is, but he’s still with the goats,’ Rory told her.

‘Ah well. You’ll meet Jack soon enough,’ said Kerry, smiling at Sammi. She turned to Asha and Rory. ‘We need to have a chat, so why don’t you two go and see how many eggs we’ve got this morning?’

‘Sure.’ Asha skipped over to the doorway happily. ‘See you later, Sammi.’ Rory waved and followed her out.

‘Right!’ Kerry turned to them with a big smile. ‘Come and sit down.’ She led them over to a desk that was overflowing with papers. Like all the other furniture, it was old and scuffed, and covered with pictures of animals.

‘Take a seat,’ she said, clearing some papers up from one of the chairs.

Sammi’s mum hesitated, looking at Sammi for guidance.

‘Sit down, Mum,’ Sammi muttered at her. ‘It’s all right. She told us to.’ Mum sank into the chair and pulled Giti onto her lap.

Kerry looked from Sammi to his mum and back again. ‘Now, Sammi, I need to talk to your mum, but am I right in thinking she’ll need some help?’

Sammi nodded, then shook his head, not sure which was right. ‘Her English is not good,’ he told her.

‘So do you think you can translate for me?’

Sammi nodded.

Kerry looked half at him and half at his mum as she began to speak. ‘City Farm is all about helping people,’ she said. ‘Children are invited to join the Harvest Hope project when they have a problem that’s making it hard for them to cope.’

She stopped, and looked at Sammi expectantly. He wasn’t sure exactly what she’d said, but he could guess, more or less.

‘She’s talking about City Farm,’ he told his mum. ‘She says they try to help people.’

Sammi’s mum gave a nervous smile.

‘You’ve been having trouble fitting in at school, haven’t you, Sammi?’ Kerry carried on. ‘We know it’s not easy, learning a new language and adjusting to a whole new culture. We hope that spending some time on the farm will help you.’

Sammi shifted from one foot to another, and looked at the ground. ‘She says she hopes I’ll like it here,’ he translated, then decided to change Kerry’s words a bit. ‘It’s a farm with different animals and things to do.’

Now his mum nodded enthusiastically. ‘Tell her I’m very happy they sent you here,’ she instructed Sammi. ‘And you tell her that you’re from a good family. You were never in trouble before so there’s no reason why you’ll cause problems here.’ She paused, and gave Sammi a steely look. ‘Go on, talk to her nicely. I want you to make a good impression.’

Sammi turned back to Kerry. ‘My mum says she very happy I come here.’ Then he stopped. There was no way he’d translate the rest.

Kerry waited, as though she sensed that his mum had said a lot more than that. But Sammi kept his lips shut tight. Kerry hesitated, then reached for a form that she’d filled out. She pointed to a space at the bottom. ‘Your mum needs to sign here to show that she’s agreed you can be here. Then perhaps she’d like to look around the farm with your little sister before leaving?’

Sammi explained to his mum what to do. ‘She says you and Giti can go and look around if you want,’ he said.

‘Oh, good,’ said his mum. ‘Giti will love seeing all the animals.’ She stood up and reached forward to grasp Kerry by both hands, shaking them warmly. Kerry grinned in return. ‘I like this woman,’ Sammi’s mum told him. ‘I can see in her eyes that she’s a good person. Tell her thank you a million times for agreeing to look after you.’

‘Let go of her hands, Mum,’ said Sammi.

‘Don’t be silly,’ said Mum. ‘Tell her what I said.’

Sammi turned to Kerry. ‘She says thank you,’ he said. Then he looked at his mum, and spoke in Pashtun. ‘I don’t know why you’re making such a fuss,’ he said. ‘I’ve no idea how this place is going to help me.’

His mum released Kerry’s hands and sat down again. ‘I don’t like you saying things like that, Sammi,’ she rebuked him. ‘You should be positive about having a new opportunity.’

Sammi pursed his lips. ‘That’s what you said about school,’ he said.

Sammi’s mum took Giti by the hand and led her out of Kerry’s office. ‘Come on, Giti. We have to leave Sammi now. He’s going to be very busy here.’

Giti broke away from her and ran to give Sammi a big hug. ‘Bye, Sammi,’ she said. ‘I want you to teach me everything you learn when you come home.’

‘I will,’ he promised her, though he knew that Giti wouldn’t need teaching. She’d probably learn more from looking around for ten minutes than he’d be able to learn all day.

Giti skipped off with his mum, and he turned back to Kerry. Now that he was on his own, he felt more tongue-tied than ever.

‘I won’t keep you here long,’ said Kerry. ‘Just a quick chat before we get you started on the farm.’

Sammi waited.

‘Can you explain to me what’s been going wrong?’ Kerry asked him gently. ‘I know you’ve been finding it hard at school, but your English seems really quite good to me.’

He shook his head. ‘It’s not,’ he said, and lapsed into silence again. He knew that Kerry was hoping he’d say more, but he didn’t know what to say. Suddenly, all his English words seemed to have flown out of the window.

‘Well, it’s a big challenge, learning in another language,’ said Kerry eventually. ‘Can you understand everything I’m saying to you?’

Sammi shrugged. ‘Most,’ he said.

‘Well, that’s something. And you’ll soon pick up more, once you’re busy working. Practice makes perfect, that’s what we say.’ Kerry stood up and came around her desk. She placed a hand on Sammi’s shoulder and led him out of the barn. ‘Most people who come here usually find one special animal to care for,’ she told him, as they went outside. ‘Which animals do you like best?’

Sammi shrugged again. Even if he could have thought of an animal, he wouldn’t know how to describe it in English. He’d seen chickens, but they didn’t need much looking after. He’d heard a sheep somewhere, but he only knew the word in Pashtun.

‘Well, perhaps you can start by looking at the rabbits and guinea pigs,’ said Kerry. ‘I’ll find Jack to show you where they are, and what we do for them each day.’

They started off down a garden path. Sammi wondered what sort of animals they were going to see. He hadn’t understood either of the words that Kerry had said.
Rab-bit, gwidypig
. He rolled the words round in his head, trying to remember them.

The garden was really pretty, with lots of lush vegetables growing. It reminded Sammi of his grandmother’s garden in Afghanistan, where she’d grown lots of onions and spinach and herbs. There had been lots of grape vines growing at the bottom half of it, but he couldn’t see anything like that here. He felt a pang of sadness. She had died not long before they were forced to leave their village – not long after his dad had disappeared. They’d had to leave her house behind, so there was no saying what had happened to it.

‘Sammi?’ said Kerry. ‘We’re going this way.’

Sammi realized he’d stopped walking, and was lost in his own thoughts, back in the village with his family. He tried to concentrate again as Kerry pointed out an old apple tree at the bottom of the garden, and a pond with ducks quacking around it. Then she spotted a boy of about Sammi’s age, busy digging something in one of the vegetable patches.

‘Jack!’ she called. ‘Can you come over, please?’

The boy had his back to them, but he stuck his spade in the ground right away and brushed some mud off his shirt. Sammi frowned. There was something strangely familiar about him.

‘Jack, this is Sammi,’ Kerry was saying. ‘He’s the new member of the Harvest Hope project. Would you mind helping him to settle in? I thought you could take him to see the rabbits and guinea pigs – could you show him how to feed them and clean them out?’

The boy was closer now, and Sammi could see his face, his sandy hair and his freckles. His heart sank. He didn’t need an introduction because he knew exactly who he was. He was the boy from his class, the one whose books he’d knocked to the floor. The boy who’d looked really cross about it. The one he’d gone and called ‘Stupid’...

* * *

Jack got a bit of a shock when he saw Sammi. Kerry had told him about an Afghan boy arriving on the Harvest Hope project, but he’d never imagined it’d be the boy in his class! Sammi had gone bright red. Jack stared at him, thinking about what had happened in class. He hadn’t liked him much, right from the start – he’d always been rude and moody, never bothering to answer Miss Crawley properly. Then he’d caused a right scene, storming out and knocking all Jack’s books down... And he couldn’t believe what he’d actually
said
!

The thing that Jack hated more than anything else was people thinking he was stupid. It got him really mad. Yes, he was in the bottom class – because he had dyslexia, so he had problems with reading and writing. But that didn’t make him stupid, did it? It was just really frustrating. Not long after starting at this school, a bunch of boys had started teasing him about it, calling him stupid, a dimwit, the village idiot, and all kinds of things. He’d got into big trouble by shouting back at them.

He could see that Kerry was expecting him to be welcoming, so he tried to smile.

‘Hi, Sammi,’ he said, but he knew it had come out funny.

Sammi looked at the ground, then looked away. ‘Hi,’ he muttered.

There was an awkward silence.

Kerry looked at them curiously. ‘Have you two met each other before?’ she asked.

‘Er... yeah,’ said Jack. ‘We’re in the same English class at school. It’s the bottom one because... well, you know.’

‘Ah. Yes, I understand.’

Jack sensed that Kerry was studying his face. He looked up and met her gaze, and saw at once that she’d spotted the awkwardness between himself and Sammi.

‘Well, Jack, this is a chance to make a fresh start,’ she said, looking at him very directly. ‘Everyone gets a second chance on the Harvest Hope project, don’t they?’

He nodded reluctantly. ‘I guess.’

She was telling him to make an effort, he knew that. After all, he’d been difficult himself when he first arrived at City Farm, angry with everyone and everything. But underneath, he’d been really missing his grandad and the farm he’d grown up on. He’d hated everything about the city, especially the bullies at school, and it was only Harvest Hope that had helped him start enjoying himself again.

‘I’ll leave you to it, then,’ said Kerry.

‘OK,’ agreed Jack.

Kerry headed back towards the barn, leaving Sammi at Jack’s side. Sammi looked just the way he did in class – angry and silent. Jack tried not to let it bother him, and pointed along one of the paths.

‘The rabbits are this way,’ he said, and set off, leading the way past Rory the Second, the garden scarecrow. He was about to explain to Sammi, but then decided against it. There wasn’t much point – Sammi wouldn’t understand, anyway.

They reached the rabbit and guinea pig hutches, sitting side by side.

‘Which d’you want to do first?’ asked Jack. ‘There’s four rabbits – Peaches and Cream, and Crumble and Custard. There’s two guinea pigs, Bubble and Squeak.’

Sammi shrugged. He didn’t look very interested in either of them.

Bubble and Squeak, the two guinea pigs, had already started squealing, which they always did if they thought there was any chance of food.

‘Weeee! Weeee-ee!’ peeped Squeak, with her little nose up in the air.

‘OK. Well, I prefer the guinea pigs. I love the noises they make,’ said Jack. ‘D’you want to hold one first?’

‘
Hold
one?’ Sammi looked startled.

‘Yeah, you can, if you want.’ Jack went through the little gate. Squeak poked her nose out of the guinea pig run, her squealing sound louder than ever. ‘They know it’s feeding time. Listen to them!’

He picked Squeak up and stroked her for a moment, ruffling up her soft fur. Then he handed her to Sammi.

Sammi looked confused, and held Squeak awkwardly. ‘What I do with him?’

‘It’s not a him. It’s a her,’ said Jack. ‘You don’t have to do anything with her. Most people like picking them up, that’s all. You can stroke her – she enjoys that.’

Sammi frowned. He carried on holding Squeak far out in front of him like she smelled bad. He obviously wasn’t interested in stroking her. Jack sighed. ‘Give her back here, then,’ he said. ‘We’ll go and get them some feed.’

With Squeak safely back in her run, Sammi trailed after Jack to the feed room.

‘We can feed the rabbits at the same time,’ said Jack. ‘But you have to be careful. Their food looks similar, but it’s a bit different. The guinea pig food has vitamin C in it, ’cause they can’t store it in their bodies the way rabbits do.’

He was quite proud of his knowledge, and he looked at Sammi’s face, trying to work out whether he’d followed what he was saying. It was hard to tell. Jack handed over the rabbit feed and carried the guinea pig feed himself, then led the way back out into the garden.

‘We give a handful of carrots and lettuces to the rabbits,’ said Jack. ‘The guinea pigs will eat carrots, but they like plenty of normal grass too. And dandelion leaves, they go nuts for them!’

They made their way back to the hutches and put all the food in the right bowls, then went and collected some vegetables, grass and dandelion leaves from the garden. Jack showed Sammi how to check the water supply, and how to clean the droppings out of the cages. Sammi watched him, but he didn’t try to join in.

What’s wrong with him?
Jack wondered. Most people thought the rabbits and guinea pigs were gorgeous, even boys! But Sammi didn’t seem the least bit interested in them. He just kept scuffing his shoe against the hutch, looking bored.
Maybe he thinks he’s too cool to work with animals
, thought Jack. He was running out of things to say. He was fed up. He’d done his best with Sammi, hadn’t he? He’d really tried to help, even though Sammi had been so mean to him. He’d pretty much had enough.

‘That’s it,’ he said, once he’d finished the cleaning. ‘It’s simple, really. There’s nothing else to do.’

Sammi nodded. ‘OK.’

‘So... I have to go and finish my other jobs. You can just look around, if you want.’

‘OK.’

Jack stared at him. Was that all he could say? ‘
OK
’?

‘Right. Well, see you later then.’ He raised a hand. ‘Don’t tell me –
OK
.’

Sammi looked at him blankly, then shrugged. Jack turned away. It was too bad. Sammi hadn’t made any kind of effort with the animals, or tried to make up for what had happened in class. Jack had done his best. It wasn’t his fault if Sammi wasn’t interested. He walked off, shaking his head. There was just no helping some people.

Jack went back to the vegetable patch in the garden and started digging up some potatoes so that Bea, the lady who worked in the farm café, could make some potato salad. It was hard work, plunging the big fork into the soil then lifting it out – a great job to do when you were feeling cross! He shook the dirt off the neat round potatoes, and didn’t stop until he’d filled up a basket. Then he headed up to the barn.

Inside, Asha was on the sofa, sitting very still. Jack stared at her. Asha
never
sat still. She was a ball of energy, always charging around, full of enthusiasm. She was on the Harvest Hope project to help her recover from leukaemia, but Jack sometimes thought she was more likely to wear herself out!

‘What’s wrong?’ he demanded.

Asha nodded towards Kerry’s desk. Jack put his basket down, and listened. He could hear that Kerry was on the phone, trying to get a word in with someone. And she was finding it very difficult.

‘I do appreciate that, but... Yes, but the point is... No, no. I don’t think—’

Kerry’s voice rose higher each time she tried to speak, as she grew more frustrated.

Jack frowned at Asha. ‘Who is it?’ he asked.

Asha looked close to despair. ‘Derrick Jarvis. From the council.’

Jack rolled his eyes. Derrick Jarvis was always causing trouble. ‘Not him again,’ he said.

‘Jack, I’m worried,’ said Asha. ‘It’s serious this time. Really serious. He was here when I arrived yesterday, and he had all these men with him, and they were talking about building houses on City Farm. He said they’re cutting the funding. Kerry says we might have to close.’

‘They can’t do that!’ exclaimed Jack.

‘Well, that’s the trouble. I’m really scared. Kerry says they can.’

Jack suddenly felt very funny, as though his whole world was spinning around him. Memories rushed through his head. He remembered the day they’d told him that his grandad couldn’t manage the farm any more, and that they’d have to move to the city. It had been the saddest day of his life. Well, almost – the day they’d actually left had been even sadder.