The Empty Family (26 page)

He wondered if Baldy had gone to get the police, if there was a special police force for this. He wished Baldy had turned off the light so that he would not have to see Abdul pulling himself across the floor and then crouching in a corner crying. Slowly, he began to feel an intense crushing pain in one side of his body and he lay back, afraid to move or think.

Later, when he tried to stand up to turn off the light he realized that he was injured. His ribs made even the slightest move very difficult and one of his legs seemed not to have any power. Then when he moved his arm he realized that something was wrong with that as well. He could not lift it without excruciating pain. Suddenly, he began to vomit; he tried to make it to the sink but could not and a stream of vomit came out of his mouth on to the floor all around him. The heaving made him almost cry out because of his ribs and made him see black spots. He managed to stand by leaning on his left leg and using his left arm to lever himself up. Propped against the wall, he stood there on one foot trying not to breathe in too deeply. And slowly he hobbled across to the light and turned it off and then sat down. Across the room Abdul was whimpering and then gasping for breath and whimpering again.

He had time now to think, to weigh what might happen and wonder if there was anything he could do. Since he could not really walk and since his rib-cage on the right-hand side ached fiercely every time he took a breath and since his right arm seemed to be broken, the idea of walking out of here and through the streets was impossible. In any case, he realized, the door was locked from the outside and he was not sure that Abdul’s keys would work from the inside. Maybe they were trapped here and would have to wait until morning, or maybe someone would come and take them away in the night. He supposed that there would be a special place for them, for men who had been caught as they had been caught. They could try to deny it but it would be hard to think of a convincing excuse for being in the barber shop together after the concert.

He went through all the people he knew, including Super and the others who shared the room with him and Abdul, including Mahmood who did the cooking and the laundry, and he realized that none of them would want to help him, that all of them would feel that he and Abdul deserved their punishment, whatever it was. Maybe they would be sent home. He did not know whether that would be better or worse than here. He imagined himself and Abdul being led from a plane in handcuffs and pushed into a truck. He thought of the figures he had seen crouched in fear with a dog’s teeth bared in front of them but that, he knew, had been done by the Americans. He thought about Baldy, how angry he was usually, how no one could talk to him and how everyone would support him now when they found out what had happened.

Abdul’s whimpering had stopped. The silence was broken by the sound of an alarm in the distance. Malik realized that the best chance they would have with the police would be if they denied everything. He tried to think now of an excuse they both could use. They could say that Abdul had left his wallet behind so that it would be safe during the concert and they had come back for it and been brutally attacked for no reason by Baldy. He hoped that Abdul had his wallet with him and he hoped too that he would wake soon and make a sound so that they could talk and agree to the same story. Maybe the police would still believe Baldy but it would be worth a try. They could ask why Baldy did not go to the police in the first place, and why he had taken the law into his own hands. Others would confirm that Baldy was a bully. If he and Abdul denied everything vehemently and convincingly enough, then at least the police would have to think about it. On the other hand, he thought, Baldy was not stupid, and he would want no trouble, so he might easily just put them on the next plane home. But who would buy the ticket? He tried to think about it from Baldy’s point of view, and he realized that if he were Baldy he would not want people like Abdul and Malik working for him. It struck him then that maybe he was wrong, maybe Baldy did not care about things like that, he cared only about money, but then, of course, it made no sense that Baldy had been so angry. Maybe he was just angry that they had been in the shop without permission, but no, Malik thought, that would not explain why he had hit them so hard.

Abdul was asleep now. Malik could not understand how he was able to sleep. He knew that there was nothing he could do but lie awake until Abdul woke and then talk to him about what they should do.

Malik was dozing when he heard the keys turning in the front door. He could feel his arm throbbing with pain. He listened to see if he could work out if Baldy was alone or if he had come with the police. But he heard no voices. Suddenly, he had an urge to disappear, to check if there was a cupboard he could hide in, or if he could lock himself into the bathroom. He could tell by Abdul’s heavy, even breathing that he was asleep. He lay still and waited. When the light was turned on he pretended that he was asleep. He presumed that it was Baldy and wondered, as he heard Abdul begin to stir, why Baldy had not spoken. He was tempted to turn and open his eyes but he realized that it would be a mistake.

‘Get him up,’ he heard Baldy saying, ‘and get him out of here.’

At that point he turned and sat up, wincing at the pain in his ribs and his arm. He lifted his other arm to shield his eyes from the light. Baldy was standing over him and Abdul was already on his feet. Baldy, he saw, was no longer angry, but seemed preoccupied, almost worried.

Malik tried to stand up and faltered so that Baldy had to help him.

‘Get him out of my sight,’ Baldy whispered to Abdul, who moved towards Malik without looking at him, allowing Malik to lean on him as they both made their way out of the room into the main part of the barber shop and then out to the street.

They hobbled back to the apartment, Malik having to stop sometimes because the pain in his side was so bad. He saw that it was early morning; the shops were still closed and there was almost no one on the street. He realized that Abdul did not want to talk and felt so distant from him that he could not find a way to begin to ask him what they should tell the others in the room. He could not rest his right leg on the ground, but even though he put all his weight on the other leg, the right one began to throb. He could not move his arm and every time he took a breath he almost cried out in pain. He would not, he knew, be able to go to work, and he did not think, from the way Abdul was walking, that he would either. And even if they could work, he thought, Baldy would not want them near him.

They managed the stairs of the building bit by bit and quietly they went into the room. One or two of the others stirred in their sleep but none of them woke as Abdul and Malik took off their shoes, trying not to make a sound, and got into bed with all their clothes on.

Later, when everyone was awake and moving in and out of the room, Malik heard Abdul explaining that he and Malik had been working late helping Baldy move boxes and they would not be going to work until the afternoon. He knew that the story must sound strange, as they must know that Abdul had been at the concert and they might even have seen Malik there, but everyone seemed too busy getting ready for the day for any of them to question what Abdul had said. As soon as they were both alone in the room, Abdul fell asleep again.

An hour or more passed before Malik heard the door into the apartment open. He lay still, ready to close his eyes and pretend to be asleep. He waited. The bedroom door was opened very quietly. He did not move as someone approached his bed.

‘Wake up, the two of you!’

The voice was unmistakably Baldy’s. As Malik turned he checked immediately that Baldy did not have anything in his hands. What surprised him now was that Baldy appeared even more nervous than he had earlier that morning. Now he looked almost afraid. He wondered for a second if Baldy had the police outside but then as Baldy whispered to him to get up he guessed that Baldy was alone.

Malik tried to get out of the bed, but his ribs pained him very badly and then his arm. He used his left arm to lean on as Baldy came close to him and pulled up his vest and, as Malik winced, asked him if he was hurt. Malik nodded.

‘Where?’

Malik pointed to his right arm and leg and then to his ribs on the right-hand side.

‘Try to walk,’ Baldy whispered.

Malik attempted to move but his right leg was too stiff. He cried out as Baldy touched his arm. He sat on the edge of the bed as Abdul woke and turned around.

‘Get out of the bed,’ Baldy whispered to Abdul.

‘Not for you, I won’t,’ Abdul replied.

‘Come on. I want to see if you are all right. I won’t hurt you.’

Slowly, Abdul sat up and stood out on the floor. As Baldy moved towards him, Abdul put his arm out to prevent him coming too close. Baldy went to the window and looked out. When Malik glanced at Abdul he saw that he was angry. He seemed uninjured. He wondered how Baldy had managed to hurt him so badly and not Abdul so much. Abdul was bigger, he supposed, and perhaps knew how to defend himself from the blows, or else Baldy had not hit him as hard.

‘Can you walk?’ Baldy asked Abdul.

‘I can walk. No thanks to you,’ he replied.

‘Are you hurt anywhere?’

‘I’m probably bruised,’ Abdul said in a tone that was dry, almost disengaged.

‘I’m going to take this fellow to the hospital,’ Baldy said.

Malik suddenly began to cry. He wished it could be an ordinary day and he could be at work, showing someone how to use a new model of phone. He had been in hospital once before when his brother was dying, and he remembered the long ward and the smells and the moans and cries. He did not want to go to a hospital; he knew now that he would have to do something to prevent Baldy taking him away. As he tried to stand up he leaned for a moment on his right leg and screamed in pain and felt that he was going to faint.

‘Put your shoes on,’ Baldy said to Abdul, ‘and get his on as well, and help him down to the car.’

Baldy left the room as Abdul worked at putting Malik’s shoes on, but the right shoe would not go on, as the foot was limp and swollen. Abdul showed no sign of worry. Malik was going to ask him what would happen now but held back, knowing that Abdul would not reply. He seemed even more withdrawn than usual. Malik leaned on Abdul as he helped him to stand. He was reassured by Abdul’s closeness to him and by his calmness. Surely he must know how much trouble they were in? Or was it possible that they were in no trouble at all now that Baldy’s rage had subsided?

But he still had to face the hospital. He did not know who would feed him, or what would happen to him. He began to say something but Abdul immediately put his hand over his mouth to stop him and led him gently and slowly out of the room towards where Baldy was waiting.

Baldy spoke only once as he and Malik were driving across the city, having left Abdul standing in the street.

‘If they ask you how this happened, you must say you were attacked and they ran away, and if they ask you what they looked like, say they were black, say they were Africans.’

Malik turned and studied Baldy carefully because he had noticed once again how nervous he sounded. It struck him that Baldy did not want anyone to know what he had done, and this meant that he would not easily be able to tell anyone what he had seen. Maybe attacking people like this was illegal in Spain, enough for the attacker to be deported, or maybe going to the police would cause them to come and ask questions and there were surely things about money and visas that Baldy and those he worked for did not want anyone to know.

Baldy made him wait in the car as he walked into a modern building with a garden somewhere on one of the hills at the edge of the city. Eventually, he emerged with a man wearing a white coat pushing a wheelchair. The man helped Malik out of the car and manoeuvred him into the chair, nodding as Malik pointed at his right arm to indicate that it could not be touched.

They used scissors to remove his vest and then stronger scissors to cut his trousers open. They took his clothes away in a black bag. For the next hour he was examined closely by two doctors, put lying on a table with just his shorts on as they shone bright lights on him. Then he was moved to a bed with wheels on it and pushed through the hospital. At the beginning, Baldy had spoken to the doctors but now, as he followed, no one asked him any more questions. It struck Malik for the first time how poor Baldy’s clothes were and how ill at ease he looked beside the young doctors and nurses in the clean, shiny corridors of the hospital.

Later, he remembered that he was given an injection in the arm and then he remembered nothing else until he woke in a room with a window, everything painted white. He was alone. When he tried to move he found that his leg was in plaster and so was his arm and there was a tight bandage around his ribs. He wanted to go to the bathroom but there was nothing he could do until someone came to help him. There was no sign of Baldy.

Over the days that followed, he was given food three times a day and helped to the bathroom any time he rang a bell. He liked the noises in the corridor and the doctors who came and spoke to him and gave him injections. Even though he could not understand them, he pointed to his arm and his leg in plaster and they responded with reassuring gestures and left him once more in the white room with the window. He was able to sleep and think and then sleep again. All the worry about Baldy and the police seemed to have faded, to be replaced by the image of Abdul and what had happened between them at the concert and in the barber shop before Baldy arrived.

They gave him a frame with wheels after a while so that he could push himself towards the bathroom without leaning on his right leg. At first it was difficult to use because his right arm was in plaster but slowly he learned that if he leaned hard on it with his left arm he could stabilize himself and then push himself gently to the bathroom. When the doctors came and saw him moving of his own accord, they gave him a thumbs-up sign and left without giving him an injection.