Refugee Boy Page 11

  The frost fascinated Alem, but he hadn’t prepared himself for walking to school in it. He opened the front door and the cold hit him, and even though he was warmly dressed, his puffer jacket couldn’t stop him from feeling it. He stepped carefully down the short path and turned to wave goodbye.

  That morning the whole atmosphere of the streets had changed, he thought. Cars, people, even the air felt as if it was moving more slowly. The cats and dogs looked streetwise and tough, and the birds sang louder. He looked up at two birds singing to each other in a tree on the street and wondered how the small fragile creatures could survive in such conditions. The birds seemed quite happy and didn’t sound as if they were complaining.

  As the day progressed the temperature rose and by dinnertime the ice had completely disappeared. But the cold stayed around to remind Alem that he was far away from home.

  That afternoon when Alem came home from school he was told that Mariam was on her way to see him. By the time he had changed his clothes she had arrived. This time she was looking worried and Alem wasted no time with pleasantries.

  ‘What is the matter?’ he asked, looking Mariam directly in her eyes.

  Mariam couldn’t hide her anxiety. She took a letter from the folder she was holding and handed it to Alem. He went straight up to his room, sat on his bed and opened the letter.

  My dearest son,

  I am afraid that I have to tell you some very bad news. Remember I told you in my last letter that darkness is upon the land? Well, my son, please prepare yourself for what I have to say. This is very bad news, because darkness is now upon our family. After searching for many weeks I have just learned that your mother is no longer with us. She was killed by some very evil people and left near the border.

  Please, son, I want you to be strong, now I need you to be strong more than ever, and your mother would want you to be strong. It is very difficult for me here now, I don’t feel that I have anything here any more, so in the next few days I will be leaving here and joining you. At this time I think that it is important that we must be together so I am coming. I will find you through the Refugee Council and we will be together again.

  I long to see you and I promise you I will be with you soon, so be strong, be as strong as your mother, and we will make it through the darkness.

  Your loving father

  Downstairs, Mariam explained to Mr and Mrs Fitzgerald that, like the last one, the letter had arrived at the Refugee Council, this time accompanied by another letter addressed to the council itself, explaining the circumstances behind Alem’s arrival in Britain and informing them of the death of Alem’s mother.

  When he heard about the death, Mr Fitzgerald fell into his armchair and whispered, ‘I don’t believe it. The poor boy!’

  Mrs Fitzgerald headed for the door to go upstairs. ‘I must go and talk to him. He can’t be left up there all by himself,’ she said, almost pushing Mariam over as she passed her.

  ‘No, no,’ Mariam said softly, ‘take it easy. Just give him a little time to himself. It’s a lot for him to take in.’

  Against her instincts, Mrs Fitzgerald stayed downstairs. She offered Mariam a cup of tea, Mariam accepted, and as the three of them sat drinking, Ruth came home. Ruth was given the bad news and was stunned into silence.

  After an hour of very few words, Mariam decided that it was time to leave. She wrote down the number of her mobile phone and gave it to Mrs Fitzgerald. ‘Do ring me any time if you need any help, any time, day or night.’

  In the hallway she told Mr and Mrs Fitzgerald that they should keep an eye on Alem and try to speak to him soon. ‘I would just like to say something to him before I leave.’

  She followed Mrs Fitzgerald up to Alem’s room, where she spoke to him through the closed door. ‘Alem, I must go now, but I’m going to ring you tomorrow, and I’ve left my mobile number with Mr Fitzgerald, so if you need me for any reason at all, at any time, please ring me, OK?’

  ‘Yes,’ came the reply from the other side of the door, but Alem said nothing else and Mariam left.

  Not long afterwards Alem made his way slowly downstairs. Mr and Mrs Fitzgerald were moving between the kitchen and the dining room, preparing the evening meal, and Ruth sat in the living room reading a magazine. When Mrs Fitzgerald saw Alem in the dining room, she quickly put down the casserole dish she was carrying and went to him. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed his forehead. ‘You poor boy, it must be so hard for you! Don’t worry, son, we’ll look after you.’

  Ruth came into the dining room and went straight to Alem. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m OK,’ Alem replied.

  At the meal everyone was cautious. All the members of the family were concerned with Alem’s state of mind. Although he was quiet and looked very much in control, none of them knew how much Alem would want to talk about things. Alem was eating very little, very slowly.

  ‘Eat as much as you can, dear,’ said Mrs Fitzgerald gently.

  ‘Yes, Mrs Fitzgerald,’ Alem replied.

  For a long time the only sound coming from the room was that of the cutlery scraping the porcelain.

  ‘Try and eat some more,’ Mrs Fitzgerald said. ‘Eating may not seem that important to you now, and it may not be the best food in the world, but I reckon there’s a few of those vitamin and mineral things in there.’

  ‘And we all need some of those,’ Mr Fitzgerald added.

  Then it was back to the silence. Another couple of minutes passed and Alem put down his knife and fork as he stared into his food.

  Ruth was the first to notice. ‘What’s the matter?’ she asked.

  Suddenly, Alem burst into tears and began crying loudly. He stamped his feet up and down and began hitting the sides of his clenched fists against his thighs, causing glasses of water to topple on the table. He cried louder, then he put his hands over his ears and shook his head as if he was trying to keep out an evil sound. His sobbing was becoming harder to control; he tried to shout some words in Amharic but that just made him lose control even more. He quickly stood up. The table shook as his thighs hit it, his chair fell to the floor behind him and he ran upstairs.

  They listened to him from downstairs for a while as he cried. He gasped for breath as the crying sapped the energy from him, then they could hear him talking loudly to himself in Amharic, ranting as if he had lost his mind. They couldn’t understand what he was saying but somehow it sounded as if he was pleading with someone or begging for something. Slowly, he began to quieten down. They listened as he drew in big, deep breaths; they could hear him trying his best to pull himself together.

  The house fell silent and for a while the Fitzgeralds moved around as quietly as they could, trying not to disturb him. They lowered their voices as they spoke and made sure not to slam any doors. In the dining room they held an impromptu family meeting to decide what to do next.

  It was decided that Mrs Fitzgerald should go up, but as she was leaving the room, Ruth called to her.

  ‘Mum, let me go.’

  Mrs Fitzgerald thought this was very uncharacteristic of Ruth. ‘So why do you want to go? The last thing we want to do is upset him any more.’

  But Ruth sounded as if she meant business. ‘Just let me go, Mum, I know what I’m doing.’

  Ruth knocked on the door as lightly as she could. There was no response. She knocked a little louder. Still no response. Then she knocked even louder but there was still no response.

  She turned the door handle and began to speak as she opened the door. ‘Alem, Alem, are you all right?’

  She popped her head round the door to find Alem fast asleep on the bed. He was fully dressed and curled up on the bed in the foetal position. Ruth closed the door and went back downstairs.

  About an hour later the phone rang. Mrs Fitzgerald quickly picked it up so that it wouldn’t wake Alem. It was Sheila. She explained to Mrs Fitzgerald that she had heard the news and wanted to offer her help. She also asked that Alem should not be s
ent to school the next day because she needed to see him, as did Nicholas the barrister. They spoke about the way Alem had reacted to the news, but Mrs Fitzgerald insisted that things were now under control and that if she needed her help or that of the Social Services, she would let them know.

  As the call was ending, Ruth heard movement in Alem’s room. She quickly went to the bottom of the stairs to listen, and when she was sure she went up and quietly knocked on his door.

  ‘Come in,’ Alem said.

  She entered the room where Alem was sitting on his bed, re-stacking the books which he had knocked over.

  ‘Alem, are you all right?’ she asked sympathetically.

  ‘I’m OK,’ said Alem, still in his monotone mode. Ruth stood next to the bed. ‘There’s no way I can feel exactly what you’re feeling now but I just wanna tell you that I’m here for you, right? Whatever you want, right, I’m here.’

  Alem just nodded his head. Ruth continued. ‘It’s bad, yeah, but you gotta be strong, right, and if we stick together we’ll be strong, innit?’

  Alem nodded his head again. Ruth pressed on. ‘There’s a load of bullshit happening out there, you know. There’s wars, famines, you got all those politicians talking rubbish, you got all those people believing the rubbish, and when it comes down to your mates, you just don’t know who to trust. Well, I’m letting you know, Alem, you can trust me. Whatever’s going down, right, you can trust me. I’m like your sister, right?’

  The thought lines on Alem’s forehead deepened as he brought his eyebrows together. He couldn’t work it out. Why was she being so nice to him now? Was she for real, and could he trust her?

  ‘I know what you’re thinking,’ she said. ‘Let me explain, Alem. We’ve had nine foster children here. The one before the last one used to go into my room and steal all my things, and the last one attacked me in the middle of the night. Some are good and some are bad, but how do I know who’s who? One accused me of being a witch, and I fell in love with another. They just come and go and I have to be nice to all of them. I have nothing against you, Alem; I’m just a bit too suspicious, I suppose. And my parents, they’ve forgotten about me. I’ve got to be Little Miss Perfect now that I’ve left school and stand on me own two feet while they help the poor and needy. Well, I’m needy too. That’s all, Alem. I ain’t got nothing against you. It’s my parents. They’re good people, but they’re just not good to me.’

  She stopped for a moment and sat next to him on the bed before continuing. ‘That’s what it’s about, it’s like that. But I know that you’re cool, everyone says you’re no problem, and I know you’re no problem so let’s just chill. Why create bad vibes? Look, I’m sorry. Now remember this, no bad vibes, I’m like your sister, right?’

  Alem turned his head slowly to look at her.

  ‘Right?’ she repeated, trying to get some response from him.

  Alem suddenly lunged towards her with his arms outstretched. He put his arms around her, placing his head on her shoulder, and cried. This time he cried softly, squeezing her tightly. He had been hugged, but he had not hugged anyone since leaving Africa. Ruth could feel that he desperately needed to hold someone. She was taken by surprise but sat still and didn’t move at all, and Alem didn’t want her to move. He felt cold, and the heat from her body comforted him. His grip was tight and although his strength slightly restricted Ruth’s ability to breathe, she relaxed and as slowly as she could she put her arms gently around him. She could feel his tears penetrating her clothes as they dropped on to her shoulder, but she could also feel Alem hugging the family he was missing.

  Chapter 14

  ˜ Life After Death ˜

  Sheila and Nicholas arrived at the house at half past ten the next morning. Ruth had phoned in to work and told the manager that there had been a death in her family, so all three of the Fitzgeralds were present. Mrs Fitzgerald had tea prepared; Mr Fitzgerald sat quietly in his chair and Ruth sat reading a music magazine, trying hard not to make it obvious that she was keeping an eye on Alem. Alem was quiet too; he had not managed to sleep much, his eyes were bloodshot and his skin had lost its shine.

  As Sheila and Nicholas entered the living room, Sheila went straight to Alem and asked if she could speak to him privately in his room. Alem said yes and they made their way upstairs leaving the others drinking tea.

  They both stood just inside the door as Sheila began speaking. ‘I’m so sorry to hear about your mother,’ she said softly. ‘It really is terrible and you must be really feeling it. Is there anything you would like me to do for you, anything at all?’

  Alem looked down and shook his head.

  ‘Are you sure?’ she added.

  Still looking down, he nodded his head again.

  ‘Well, look, Alem, all you have to do is ask and we’ll do all we can. You know you can always talk to me if there’s anything you need, and if you feel that you want to talk to anyone else, you know, a counsellor, then we can arrange that for you.’

  ‘What’s a counsellor?’ Alem asked inquisitively.

  ‘That’s someone to talk to. Sometimes it helps if there is someone not connected with your family or your life who can listen to you and talk with you. It may not sound like much but it really can help when you have a lot of things on your mind. Would you like me to set up a meeting with one for you?’ she asked in a way that suggested that he should say yes.

  ‘No,’ Alem replied, ‘at the moment I don’t feel like I want to talk to anyone.’

  ‘Well, if you need me or anyone else to talk to, just say so. But Alem, just for a short time we will need you to talk to us. You see, Nicholas is here because he really needs to speak to you. You don’t have to if you don’t want to but it would help. He will have to ask you some questions about your case and possibly about your mother. Honestly, it would be very helpful.’

  ‘That’s OK.’

  ‘It is important,’ she continued, ‘but if it’s getting too much for you, just tell him to stop.’

  Back in the living room Nicholas began to speak as soon as Alem sat down. ‘Alem, I’m sorry to hear about what happened to your mother, you must be devastated. I may just be a man in a suit but I do understand what it’s like to lose a loved one. My condolences, mate.’

  Alem could see that for all Nicholas’s smooth talk and his confident attitude, he did seem sincere. Nicholas always sounded as if he knew exactly what he was going to say before he said it, but this time Alem felt that he was searching for words. As Nicholas continued, he flipped back to his old self, conscious but businesslike.

  ‘Alem, we have a problem. The opposition know that your father wrote to you in November and we have reason to believe that they want to drag the case out and possibly try to locate your father. Of course we know that the last letter you received from your father is a very painful one, but we would like to use it in court next month to strengthen your case. We can only do this with your permission.’

  Alem thought for a while and all the eyes in the room were upon him. He turned to Sheila. ‘Sheila, you are my social worker, yes?’

  ‘Yes,’ Sheila replied.

  ‘You are concerned about my welfare, yes?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Sheila, not sure where this line of questioning was going.

  ‘Well, don’t you think that I should now go back and be with my father? Don’t you think that now it is important that what is left of my family should be together?’

  This was Alem being logical again. Everyone in the room looked at each other, knowing that there was some truth in what he was saying.

  ‘Look, Alem, we cannot tell you to stay or to go,’ Sheila responded. ‘Quite frankly, if you were to seek political asylum because I told you to, I’d be in trouble. We are all just here for you. It’s not our job to advise you on whether you should stay or not, but if you do want to stay, we will support you. All I can say to you is look at the facts. You’ve tried to live on both sides of the border and both communities have persecuted you. You’ve jus
t lost your mother, and your father is in fear of his life. You would have no one to meet you when you arrive in Ethiopia or Eritrea and now you don’t even have the address of a single relative there. You could be arriving there as your father is arriving here. Think about it. Why would you want to put your life in danger? We can’t tell you what to do, Alem, but I think your father wants you to be as safe as possible. That’s all I can say, it’s up to you.’

  Alem’s response was immediate. ‘Yes, but I’m not wanted here. Look, I have to go to court to stay here. In the papers they call us names. This country may be good for some things but if this country was so good, why do I have to go to court to get some of this goodness? Why do they not believe me?’

  Ruth and her parents sat with their heads bowed as if they were being told off. Sheila sat back in her chair. ‘You have a point, Alem, but you must try to understand the court system here, and let me assure you that there are many people here who do welcome you, you know that.’

  At this point Nicholas entered the conversation. ‘If you like, you can think about it for a time. We don’t have to make a decision now, but the sooner we know what evidence we have at our disposal, the more effectively we can plan our strategy.’

  ‘I will think about it now,’ Alem said, and the room fell silent again as everyone tried to listen to Alem thinking.

  All except for Mrs Fitzgerald. ‘Fresh tea, anyone?’ she asked, smiling as if she had just come up with a great idea. Everyone just shook their heads and continued to wait for Alem.

  ‘OK,’ Alem said, ‘we must continue. You can use the letter.’

  Alem went up to his room and returned with the letter and Ruth volunteered to go and get it photocopied at the newsagent’s. When she returned, she gave the original back to Alem and then gave a copy each to Sheila and Nicholas, who began to read it straightaway.

  Nicholas read it quickly, put it into his case, then stood up. ‘Alem, this is going to be hard for you but as Sheila said, we’re all here to help. Hopefully this letter will make things a lot easier for us. I must go now, but there is still a month to go before the hearing so you get on with your life, leave this to us.’