The Way We Were (13 page)

Eyob sat with his gun on his lap, glaring at Declan as he examined the tiny girl’s abdomen. Feven was holding the child’s hand, crying silently.

Declan cursed under his breath. Dehab was in a bad way. ‘Why the hell didn’t they bring her in sooner?’ He shook his head.

Feven, who was watching Declan’s face closely for signs of hope, began to wail.

Ben placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. ‘It’s all right. We’ll do our best to save her.’

Although she hadn’t understood what Ben had said, Feven took comfort from the tone of his voice and his half-smile. He guided her out of the tent and indicated for her to wait, then went back in to examine the little mite.

Her eyes were sunken and her skin was sagging from lack of fluids. ‘Jesus Christ, it’ll be a miracle if this child survives,’ Declan raged. ‘They can’t wait this long. What’s wrong with these people?’

Yonas coughed, and the two doctors looked at him.

‘The women not want to come to doctor,’ Yonas said.

‘Why not?’ Ben asked.

‘They afraid.’

‘But we can help,’ Ben replied.

‘Women think if child comes here, he die.’

‘But we’re doctors.’

Yonas shrugged. ‘Women afraid, not trusting you.’

‘I’ll have to talk to Awate about that,’ Ben said. ‘In the meantime, we need to find a vein.’

‘I’ve looked, none viable. We’ll have to find one on her scalp.’ Declan took out a scalpel and held it to Dehab’s head. Eyob roared and cocked his rifle. Feven came rushing in and screamed.

‘STOP!’ Ben shouted. ‘We’re looking for a vein to rehydrate.’ He looked to Yonas for help, but the guard didn’t understand.

Ben gestured for them to gather around the operating table. Eyob hobbled over on his wooden crutches.

Ben showed them his arm and indicated a vein. He pointed to Dehab’s arms and the lack of veins. Then he showed them the vein under Dehab’s hair where Declan was about to shave it so they could insert a needle and hydrate the child.

Feven nodded. She understood. Declan indicated for her to shave her daughter’s head but she refused. She patted his hand and smiled.

Eyob bristled, and as he limped past Declan, he rammed his crutch on Declan’s foot. Declan’s face reddened with rage.

‘Let’s get on, shall we?’ Ben said firmly to Declan, before there was trouble.

Declan gently shaved a small section of soft hair from Dehab’s temple, then placed a rubber band around her head as a makeshift tourniquet. Feven stood beside him, watching. Declan showed her the vein. Feven nodded, then left the tent again.

‘It’s not much thicker than a thread, but hopefully I can cannulate,’ Ben said as he advanced the needle with tiny probings. ‘Got it!’ he said, as a strand of dark blood curled back into the plastic tube.

Declan taped the drip in place and counted the drops as they fell through the clear chamber to make sure the flow-rate wasn’t too fast or too slow. Then he lifted the listless child and placed her on a mattress on the floor in the next tent and hung the drip bag on an overhead wire. Dehab lay beside five other children who were also suffering from gastroenteritis.

Having settled her, Declan came back in and removed his surgical gloves, which he washed carefully.

‘I’ll have to get Awate to talk to everyone about being extra vigilant about hand-washing and drinking clean water. We need to stop this spreading,’ Ben said, as he dried his hands. ‘We’re running out of saline. We’ll have to teach the women how to make their own solution.’

‘What is it again? One teaspoon of salt and eight of sugar?’ Declan asked.

‘Actually, it’s only half a teaspoon of salt and eight teaspoons of sugar per litre of cool boiled water.’

‘I’ll go and talk to Feven and see if I can explain it to her.’

Ben frowned. ‘Declan, let me do it.’

‘I’m not going to do anything stupid, just talk to her,’ Declan whispered back.

‘Eyob doesn’t need to be provoked. You know how protective he is about her.’

‘He’s just a one-legged wanker who can’t get laid.’

‘He’s a one-legged wanker with a gun.’

‘Relax, Ben, I won’t get myself shot. I’m not going to try to shag her, although I am tempted.’

‘Don’t even think about it.’

‘I can’t help it.’

‘If you don’t get yourself shot, you can sleep with every woman you meet when we get out of this shit-hole.’

‘Will we get out?’ Declan was suddenly serious.

‘We have to,’ Ben said, looking down at his hands. ‘We just have to.’

Later that night, Ben and Declan were playing chess. The chess set had been a gift from Awate when they had saved Eyob’s life.

Eyob had been a lot less grateful when he’d woken up with only one leg. He had freaked out and accused Ben and Declan of trying to kill him, but Awate had shouted at him and told him that the only reason he was alive was because of the surgeons’ skill. He’d made Eyob thank them.

‘He’s about as happy as a turkey on Christmas Eve,’ Declan had muttered.

Since the amputation, Eyob had been even more aggressive and edgy than before. Ben hated him guarding them: Eyob made him nervous.

‘I’m too tired to play.’ Declan rolled onto his side.

Ben blew out the candle. ‘It’s late – we should get some sleep. I think we’ll have more gastro cases tomorrow, unfortunately.’

‘I hope I don’t get it. I hate the trots.’

‘We should take care not to,’ Ben said. ‘We need to keep our strength up.’

Beside him, Declan tossed and turned on his mattress. In the dark he groaned. ‘Jesus, I’m so horny I’d nearly ride you!’

‘Thanks all the same, but I’d rather you didn’t.’

‘I can understand how fellas in prison for years and years end up together.’

‘Think of all the gorgeous women you’ll have sex with when we get out of here.’

‘I’m telling you, Ben, when I get back to London I’m going to ride every woman I meet and then I’m going to find an Alice and get married and have a shedload of kids.’

Ben went quiet. Declan was dreaming of meeting ‘an Alice’ and Ben had one and he’d blown it. He’d ruined everything by being selfish. He swore for the millionth time that if he got out of there, he’d be more attentive to his family, more loving, more present, and put their needs first.

‘Ben?’ Declan said. ‘I know you’re going down the if-only road. I can sense it. Stop, it won’t do you any good.’

‘Why was I such a stupid, selfish idiot?’ Ben cried.

Declan reached for his hand and held it. ‘Don’t worry – I’m not coming on to you. Ben, listen to me. You did something you wanted to do. It’s not a crime. What happened to us was just sheer bad luck. That’s all. When you get home, you can tell Alice how much you love her and how sorry you are. But feeling guilty all the time in here will kill you.’

‘She’s just so –’

‘Perfect. I know – you’ve only said it a thousand times.’

‘What was I looking for? I had it all. And now … my girls are nearly a year older … Christ, Declan, do you think they’ll have forgotten me?’

‘Don’t be mad. Kids never forget their parents.’

‘Do you think Alice will have moved on? She’s really pretty and I bet lots of men are moving in on her.’

‘Jesus, stop torturing yourself. Don’t even think about that.’

Ben exhaled deeply. ‘She thinks I’m dead. Why wouldn’t she move on? I wouldn’t blame her – she deserves someone better.’

Declan lit a cigarette and handed it to Ben. ‘That’s enough self-pity. Alice loves you. Think about it. Would you have moved on in less than a year if you’d thought she was dead? No way. I bet you she’s looking at a photo of you right now and missing you … or she’s on her back being banged by some beefy bloke called Brad that she met at the gym.’

Ben thumped his arm and gave him a crooked smile.

‘Knock, knock.’

‘I’m not playing.’

‘Come on, Ben, it’ll distract you.’

‘They’re ridiculous kids’ jokes.’

‘I know, but cheesy can be funny. Knock, knock.’

‘Who’s there?’

‘Anee.’

‘Anee who?’

‘Anee one you like!’

Despite himself, Ben laughed. ‘How do you know so many of these silly jokes?’

‘Because they made Da laugh when my ma left. We used to say them to him to make him smile. It worked, so we kept going. Between us all, we had loads of them. Knock, knock.’

‘Who’s there?’

‘A herd.’

‘A herd who?’

‘A herd you were home, so I came over.’

Ben chuckled. ‘If the surgery doesn’t work out, you could become a really bad comedian.’

‘I’ll be too busy having all the sex with all the women to do that, remember?’

‘In between the sex.’

‘In between the sex I’ll be eating steak and drinking champagne and living every second of every day.’

‘Oh, God, what I’d give for a steak right now.’

‘After I get home I’ll never eat a chickpea or lentil again as long as I live,’ Declan declared.

‘I look forward to using cutlery and sitting in an actual chair.’

‘I’m dreaming of long hot showers, soft mattresses and
sleeping without a chain on my ankles or a sweaty bloke by my side.’

‘You’re not so fragrant yourself,’ Ben said. ‘In fact, my first gift to you when we get out of here will be a large can of Lynx.’

‘My da wears that,’ Declan said, and Ben instantly regretted saying it because he could see in Declan’s eyes that he was being pulled back into the past, and it was dangerous to spend too much time there. He knew that from experience. ‘He always puts on way too much. You can smell him before you see him. He’s a gas man, always in a good mood. Even when things were really tough he was sunny-side-up. His favourite expression is “Sure it could be worse”. It used to drive us all mental. When Darren found out his fiancée was shagging someone else, Da said to him, “Sure it could have been worse, you could have been married.” Darren went mental and started punching the wall in frustration. But Da was right. I wonder what he’d say to me now? I think he’d be stumped to find a positive spin on this.’ Declan’s voice broke and his body began to shake.

Ben gripped his hand. ‘Come on, mate, it
could
be worse. I mean, Christ, you could be chained to John Lester.’

Declan’s sobs turned to laughs, then back to sobs. Ben held his hand and waited for the darkness to pass.

Three hundred and sixty-five days. Twelve months. One year. One whole year since Daddy died. Mummy asked us what we wanted to do. She wanted to treat Jools because it’s her seventeenth birthday. But Jools said she just wanted to go back to bed and sleep through the day. I said I’d do whatever Mummy wanted to do. She looked so sad and so tired.

While we were trying to decide, Kevin arrived with coffees and
pains au chocolat
, muffins and smoothies. He gave Jools her present, but she just put it beside the ones from me and Mummy and said she’d open them tomorrow because today doesn’t feel like a birthday.

I wasn’t hungry, but just having Kevin in the house made us all feel a bit better. He fussed over us, making us eat and distracting us with funny stories about Axel. Kevin said that Axel has decided he’s not going to be a singer, he’s going to be a chef. Kevin said that Axel can barely boil water, but he doesn’t want to crush his dreams.

Mummy said it was lucky Axel had a rich father who could fund his son’s madcap ideas. Kevin said Axel is working his way through one of Nigella’s cookbooks, and when he comes home he is usually greeted with burnt fish, charred meat or soggy vegetables. He has to eat it because Axel stands in front of him in his chef’s coat – he loves to have the proper outfit for whatever he’s doing, Kevin says – and waits for Kevin to comment.

‘What do you say?’ Jools asked.

‘At first I told him it was lovely but perhaps a tiny bit overcooked, and then he shouted at me in French for ten minutes. So now I just say everything is
formidable
.’

‘But that’s ridiculous! You’re lying to him. He’ll never get a job as a chef. You need to stop lying.’

‘Jools, I’m not going out with Axel for his gastronomic aptitude.’

‘But that’s just it,’ Jools said. ‘Axel’s gastronomic attitude is a total pain.’

Mummy looked at me and winked. We tried not to laugh. It was nice to have something to smile about, even if it was about Jools being a bit silly with her words.

Kevin just kept talking about Axel’s disastrous meals and making us laugh. When we’d cleared up the breakfast things, he took Mummy upstairs and made her put on a nice dress, then told me and Jools to do the same.

When Mummy came into my bedroom, I told her she looked lovely. She didn’t really. The dress was too big for her. She’s lost even more weight and her eyes are so sad. Sometimes when I see how pale and tired Mummy looks, I feel a really bad pain in my heart. What would happen to us if she died? Would Kevin look after us? I couldn’t bear it if Mummy died. I honestly don’t think I could survive it.

I went over, hugged her really tight and tried not to cry, but I couldn’t stop the tears. I told her how much I loved her and then she started crying, too. Kevin came in and told us both off. He said we were going to drown in tears in this house and that we needed to start living again. He said we’d done all the horrible first things – first birthdays without Daddy and first Christmas – and all the awful days where we missed him so much and that, hopefully, this year, it wouldn’t be quite so awful.

That’s what the lady said in the grief-counselling session Mummy took us to. But none of us liked her and we didn’t go back. She kept talking about Daddy as if she knew him, but she didn’t. I know Mummy took us because she wanted to help us to deal with our sadness, but Jools and I both said we hated it and that we didn’t want to talk to a stranger about Daddy.

Mummy said okay, but that we had to talk to her about Daddy when we were sad and not to worry about upsetting her. She said we had to let our grief out, or it would make us ill inside.

I talk to Daddy all the time. I look at his picture and talk to him. Sometimes I actually think he talks back. When I close my eyes, I can hear his voice. Like the other day, when I didn’t know what to do about Simon. He’s always calling me a ‘swot’ and a ‘freak’ and I try to ignore him, but he just keeps saying it and some of the others laugh and I feel really bad. I told Daddy about it and I could hear him saying, ‘You have to stand up to him.’

I was really scared, but the next day when Simon called me a ‘swot’ I told him I’d rather be a swot than always coming bottom, like he does. He just laughed, but I felt a bit better.

I’m not sure if Simon would have stopped being mean after that. I’m not the sort of girl who can frighten people – but then Jools heard about it from Simon’s cousin, Jeremy, who is in her year. So Jools and her friend Lance, who is in year twelve too, and captain of the rugby team, went up to Simon the next day, pushed him up against a locker and told him that if he ever even looked sideways at me again, Lance would use him as a human rugby ball. So now Simon leaves me alone.

I worry about Jools, though. She doesn’t talk about Daddy
enough. Mummy tries to get her to talk about him, but Jools just keeps saying she’s fine. Mummy and she are fighting a lot because Mummy is helping Jools with her homework every night and it’s always a battle. Mummy tries really hard not to get annoyed, but Jools is annoying. She’s not trying. She said she’s worn out with all the studying she did for her GCSEs. She did better than any of us thought she would but not exactly brilliantly – although she did get an A star in art. She said her mind needs a break and she’ll work harder when the next lot of exams are coming up. She doesn’t seem to care that she’s at the bottom of her year.

Mummy is trying to get her to read more – she even said she’d pay her for every book she finished, but Jools refuses. I heard Mummy telling Kevin that she was worried Jools would end up stacking shelves in Tesco.

Kevin said there were worse things she could be doing, like ‘swinging around a pole in a dodgy nightclub in Soho’. Mummy didn’t think it was funny. She actually just looked really worried.

When we were all dressed, Kevin took us to a fancy restaurant called Le Toit. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Kevin eat so much. He ordered all of the side dishes, including the creamy potatoes, which he never usually does because he’s always watching his weight. He said he was starving because of all the awful food Axel was cooking, which he had to spit into his napkin when Axel wasn’t looking.

We had a nice time and then we went home and Mummy took us out to the garden where Daddy’s cherry tree was growing and she asked us all to talk to Daddy. That’s when things got really sad. Jools totally lost it. She said, ‘I needed you, Dad, and you left me. I hate you for going to Eritrea. I HATE YOU.’ Then she ran inside and locked herself in her bedroom, and even when Mummy said she could watch
Keeping Up With the Kardashians
and eat a whole box of Celebrations she wouldn’t come out.

Mummy then said she had a headache and would I mind if she had a little lie-down. I said it was fine and that I might do the same. Mummy said I could come and snuggle up in her bed, but I knew she wanted to cry and she wouldn’t in front of me, so I said I’d rather just go to my own room. That wasn’t true.

After about an hour I went to check on Mummy and she was fast asleep, surrounded by tissues. I could see the light on in Jools’s bedroom, so I knocked on her door. She didn’t answer. I went in. I wish I hadn’t. It was awful. I feel sick every time I think about it. I don’t know what to do. She made me swear I wouldn’t tell Mummy or Kevin or anyone.

But it’s serious. She said she’s only done it once or twice, but the scars were all the way up her arms. When I went in, she was in the middle of cutting herself with a razor and there was blood dripping down her arm into the black towel she had underneath. Her face looked really weird – like she was in pain but also happy.

I’m really scared now.