Bitter Chocolate

by Sally Grindley

  Chapter 29

  The days at the plantation seemed to go on interminably. Pascal felt permanently on edge. He became more and more anxious about being caught. He had to make absolutely certain that wouldn’t happen. He went over and over every last detail of his plan so that it was as foolproof as possible.

  ‘We need to listen out for the trucks every day so that we know what sort of time they arrive, when they leave, how many stops they make and how long they wait at each stop,’ he said to Kojo, as they sat together during a water break.

  ‘How are we going to get on to the truck without being seen?’ Kojo asked doubtfully.

  In Pascal’s mind, it all seemed very simple, but he knew that in practice they would need an awful lot of luck.

  ‘We’ll have to choose our moment. As soon as everything falls into place, we’ll go for it.’

  Kojo still looked doubtful. ‘What if everything doesn’t fall into place?’

  ‘It will,’ Pascal insisted.

  They discovered that the trucks arrived in the middle of every afternoon and stopped at three different places on the plantation. Some days they collected empty pods, other days they took away sacks of beans. Pascal decided that they would be better off hiding on a truck that was carrying pods rather than beans.

  ‘A sack of broken pods will look much less smooth than a sack of beans. With your knobbly knees you’ll definitely need to be amongst the pods,’ Pascal said teasingly.

  ‘And you, with your big ears,’ Kojo riposted.

  ‘You leave my ears out of it,’ said Pascal.

  ‘Won’t they fit?’ Kojo sniggered.

  ‘Funny ha, ha. If you were anybody else, I’d wallop you for that.’

  They worked out which were pod collection days, and Pascal was pleased to discover that the next pod collection fell on Le Cochon’s day off.

  ‘That’s two days’ time,’ he said to Kojo.

  Tiene happened to pass by at that moment. ‘What are you looking so happy about?’ he asked.

  ‘Wouldn’t you like to know, you snake in the grass,’ Pascal snarled.

  ‘Snakes only go where there’s something juicy to feed on.’ Tiene smirked. ‘I reckon there’s something very juicy to feed on here.’

  ‘Pity you won’t be able to sniff it out, then, isn’t it?’ said Pascal. ‘Come on, Kojo, let’s go somewhere where the air’s a bit fresher.’

  ‘I know what you’re up to,’ Tiene called after them. ‘You won’t get away with it.’

  Pascal resisted the temptation to respond. He saw Tiene as an irritation rather than a real threat. He reminded him of Kamil, when Kamil had used bullying tactics to get what he wanted. He wondered again, for a brief moment, what had happened to Kamil.

  ‘So what will we do then?’ asked Kojo when they were on their own again.

  ‘We stay on the truck until it stops, then we jump off and run for it.’

  ‘And then what?’

  Pascal knew he had to find answers to that question, but every time it began to form in his mind he could feel himself avoiding it. The question was too big. He didn’t really want to think beyond their flight from the plantation. It wasn’t just about what they would do next. It was about how and when and why and where. It was about the fact that he and Kojo weren’t even from the same country and would, at some point, have to go their separate ways. It was about the fact that he had no idea where he would find his family, and whether they were even alive. It was about the possible discovery that he was all alone in the world.

  ‘Did your papa ever tell you he loved you?’ he asked Kojo all of a sudden.

  ‘I think so,’ said Kojo.

  ‘What do you mean, “you think so”?’ Pascal demanded. ‘Either he did, or he didn’t.’

  ‘Maybe he didn’t need to tell me,’ said Kojo defensively. ‘Maybe he just showed it. Anyway, he did tell me. At least, when I was little he did. And then I just knew.’

  Pascal remembered the Barcelona shirt, and wondered if his father had bought it for him to show that he loved him, or because he hoped that it would make him a good footballer.

  ‘I let my parents down,’ muttered Kojo. ‘I was supposed to be helping them. That’s why I came here – to earn money to send home to them. I’ve never been able to send anything home, not even a letter. And now I’m leaving and I’ve got nothing to show for it.’

  ‘It’s not your fault!’ Pascal exclaimed. ‘Those pigs promised to pay us, and they haven’t. We didn’t come here to work for nothing, and if you stay you’ll still leave with nothing.’

  ‘It doesn’t mean I haven’t let them down,’ Kojo insisted. ‘I don’t know how I’m going to look them in the face when I see them again.’

  ‘They won’t blame you,’ said Pascal. ‘They’ll just be happy to have you back.’

  ‘What will you do if you can’t find any –’ Kojo turned the conversation round to Pascal.

  ‘I will find them,’ Pascal cut in. ‘Maman, Bijou, even Angeline – I will find them.’

  Chapter 30

  One morning, Pascal was wandering along one of the alleyways of the refugee camp, when a man approached him. The man was well dressed and carried a briefcase. He introduced himself as Mr Sakho, and said that he was working with a company that helped Guinean children to find their families.

  ‘Do you have family here?’ Mr Sakho asked, after he had checked that Pascal was Guinean.

  ‘No,’ Pascal replied guardedly.

  ‘Do you mind if I ask what happened to them?’

  ‘I was separated from them when rebels took over my village.’

  ‘And you have no idea where they are?’

  Pascal shook his head.

  ‘If you come with me,’ Mr Sakho said, ‘I have an office in the nearby town and we can go through our files to see if your family is listed. We’ll take down your details and send them to our other offices across the country. We can find your family for you, even if they are no longer in Guinea.’

  ‘They wouldn’t go away without me,’ Pascal said firmly.

  ‘They may not have had a choice,’ Mr Sakho replied. ‘If you come with me now, I can bring you back by the end of the day.’

  Pascal hesitated, unsure whether or not he could trust this man. He looked trustworthy enough in his smart suit, and he had been allowed into the camp, after all.

  ‘The people here are too bogged down with other work,’ explained Mr Sakho, seeing Pascal’s hesitation. ‘That’s why they’re asking outside agencies to help. We have all the facilities and lots of staff.’

  Pascal wanted to check with Jaloh or Sheriff, but Mr Sakho insisted that they leave straight away.

  ‘There are others waiting,’ he said, ‘and the sooner we get started the better. Come, we’re going to put your life back together again.’

  Pascal nodded. He couldn’t help but feel a twinge of excitement. He didn’t say another word, but followed his new guardian towards the camp entrance. When they reached the barrier, the security guards opened it, grinned and saluted, while Mr Sakho touched his forehead to them.

  Outside, a van was waiting. Another man in a suit jumped down from the driver’s seat and opened the back door for Pascal, who squeezed in among the other six boys, wishing he could have sat by the window.

  ‘All OK?’ Mr Sakho asked, before sliding into the passenger seat.

  The boys nodded, but none of them spoke. Pascal was glad he wasn’t going on his own and felt that, as fellow Guineans, this was a group of boys he would make an effort to befriend once they returned to the camp. They would all have had the shared experience of visiting the agency and would all be waiting for news at the same time.

  Pascal settled back and watched the van negotiating the potholed road ahead. His excitement mounted with every kilometre covered, and by the time they reached the outskirts of the town, he couldn’t stop fidgeting. The van drove right through the town, past numerous buildings that had been razed to the ground and others that had suffere
d considerable damage, before circling a large, dilapidated warehouse some distance beyond the final row of shops. They came to a halt at the back and Mr Sakho got out.

  ‘Stay there,’ he ordered, leaving the other man in charge. He disappeared inside.

  A few minutes later, a different man appeared, pushing two boys ahead of him out of the warehouse. He was burly and rough-looking, carried an AK-47 and swore when the smaller of the boys tripped and nearly fell over.

  Pascal shrank back in his seat. His head began to spin. White lights blinded him. A loud bang made him cry out. He lashed out on both sides, his fists striking soft flesh, then launched himself forward, cracking his jaw against someone’s skull. Voices, shouts, pain.

  ‘Get back in your seat and shut it, or else.’

  A sharp jab in the chest and Pascal was falling. Two loud bangs. The roar of an engine. Steadying hands as he lurched sideways.

  ‘Are you all right?’ A soft voice next to him.

  Pascal took a deep breath and tried to take in what was happening. The boys on the bench opposite were staring at him, one of them rubbing his forehead. Beside him was the smaller of the new boys.

  ‘Are you all right?’ the boy repeated.

  Pascal looked at the raw skin on his knuckles and rubbed his chin. ‘Where are we going?’ he asked.

  ‘We’re going to work,’ the boy replied. ‘They’re going to pay us lots of money and give us bicycles and things.’

  Pascal stared at the boy. He couldn’t have been much older than nine, younger than Pascal had been when his world had been blown apart.

  ‘What do you mean, work?’ he asked faintly.

  ‘To help our families pay for things,’ the boy replied. ‘Did your papa lose his job as well?’

  Pascal didn’t answer. As the van picked up speed and swung on to a main road away from the town, he tried to take in what he was being told. He was a fool to have trusted the man in the suit. Why had he been so eager to believe him? Once again, he was losing control of his life. He looked towards the two men in the front of the van. The driver was focused on the road. The man in the passenger seat had turned to face them.

  ‘All right, boys?’ he asked. ‘You ready to make yourselves a heap of money?’

  Most of the boys nodded. Two of them remained tight-lipped.

  ‘You promised you’d find my family for me,’ Pascal couldn’t help hissing, though he knew it was pointless.

  ‘Me? I made you no promises,’ the man scoffed. ‘And you’ll be back home in no time, with your pockets bulging. Just think how grateful your families will be.’

  They drove on in silence, each boy with his own thoughts.

  Pascal closed his eyes and tried to stop himself from thinking too hard, until the boy beside him said, ‘My name’s Kojo. What’s yours?’

  Chapter 31

  Sweat poured down Pascal’s face and neck. It was a burning hot afternoon. He chopped into a cocoa pod and emptied the beans on to the pile. On the track behind him, a truck was parked, several sacks of empty husks already loaded on board. The driver had left the truck and was sitting some distance away, smoking a cigarette and chatting with an overseer. As luck would have it, Tiene was working in another part of the plantation that day.

  Alongside Pascal, Kojo seemed oblivious to the opportunity that had presented itself.

  ‘Get ready to go,’ Pascal whispered to him. ‘I’ll distract the others.’ He watched the startled look on Kojo’s face turn into raw fear. ‘Be brave. What’s the worst that can happen?’

  Kojo grimaced, but laid down his machete.

  Seconds later, Pascal let out a squawk and cried, ‘Hey, I think I just spotted a scorpion. A big one!’

  The other boys came running over to look.

  ‘Where?’ asked Youssouf.

  ‘It went under those pods there,’ Pascal said, pointing. At the same time, he beckoned to Kojo to make his escape.

  Whilst the boys poked around amongst the pods, Kojo darted to where Pascal had hidden the sacks, snatched one, sprinted over to the truck, jumped up behind the other sacks and disappeared from view.

  ‘I’d better go and tell the overseer,’ said Pascal. ‘Keep looking for it. We don’t want to be bitten.’

  He ran away from the boys, turning back to check that they were absorbed in their task, and grabbed the second sack from its hiding place. He leapt aboard the truck just as the driver was approaching, pulled the sack over his head and ducked down. He barely had time to shift a full sack in front of him and to cover himself completely before the driver, whistling loudly, jumped into the cabin and started the engine.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Pascal whispered.

  ‘You’re sitting on my foot,’ muttered Kojo.

  Pascal was so tense, he had to stop himself laughing out loud. ‘If that’s all!’ he whispered back.

  The truck was moving now, bumping up and down on the potholed track. Pascal prayed that the driver wouldn’t be stopping to pick up more sacks. If he did, the chances were that their disappearance would be noticed. When, shortly afterwards, they came to a halt, he hardly dared breathe.

  ‘That it for today?’ he heard.

  ‘That’s it,’ was the reply.

  ‘Not a very full load this time.’

  ‘Takes longer to get the high ones down.’

  ‘Get a move on,’ Pascal wanted to say. ‘Let’s go.’

  ‘Where are you taking this load?’

  ‘Going for soap, these are. New factory a few kilometres away.’

  ‘See you again, then.’

  ‘Yep. Back later in the week.’

  At last, the engine roared to life again and Pascal felt the truck lurch into motion. There was a prolonged scraping noise, followed by a powerful clang, and then music filtered through to the back of the truck.

  ‘We’re off!’ Pascal whispered. ‘We’ve made it.’

  ‘That’s Salif Keita,’ said Kojo.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Salif Keita on the radio. We used to listen to him all the time. I feel like I’m home already.’

  ‘Just don’t start singing along, that’s all,’ Pascal warned.

  ‘Where do you think we’re going?’

  ‘Who knows? Who cares? As soon as we leave this truck, we’re free. Free to do as we like. Free to find our way home.’

  ‘I’ve got a numb bum,’ Kojo groaned, shifting to make himself more comfortable.

  ‘You’ll be numb all over if you give us away.’

  ‘Grumpy.’

  Grumpy was the last thing Pascal felt. Anxious, yes. Elated, yes. Agitated, yes. Excited, yes. The hardest part was having to keep still. He wanted to leap in the air and yell at the top of his voice: ‘I’m free, Maman, and I’m coming home.’ He tried not to fidget, closing his eyes to help himself relax.

  ‘You won’t fall asleep, will you?’ Kojo muttered, as if he could see through the sacks. ‘You know what you’re like when you’re asleep.’

  ‘How can I sleep when you keep jabbering? It’s always the same – yack, yack, yack, blah, blah, blah.’

  They both fell silent. Pascal no longer noticed the jolting and jarring of the truck on the bumpy road. As it sped along, one kilometre after another falling in its wake, he turned his mind to the journey ahead, a journey that might take many days, weeks, even months, but a journey that marked the start of a new life, whatever that life might hold in store. He had torn himself away from the horror that had gripped him for so long, and was ready to hope again.

  ‘You said you could live without dreams,’ Kojo whispered suddenly. ‘But I bet you never stopped hoping.’

  ‘You’re wrong,’ said Pascal. ‘I did give up hope, when my dreams became nightmares.’

  ‘What’s different now?’

  ‘The nightmares were turning me into someone I couldn’t live with. That’s why I had to get out. And once I decided to get out, I began to hope again.’ Pascal could hear Kojo shifting in his sack.

  ‘I never
gave up hope,’ Kojo said. ‘But you’ve been through a lot more than me.’

  ‘We’ve both been through a lot, and there’s a lot more to come. But we’re gonna be all right, you and me. I know we are.’

  ‘What do you hope for most?’ Kojo asked.

  Pascal thought for a moment. ‘No matter how, no matter when, I want to make my mother proud. But most of all, I want to be proud of myself.’

  Sally Grindley

  Sally Grindley lives in Cheltenham and has worked in children’s books all her career – first as an editor for a children’s book club and then as a full-time writer. Sally is the author of many outstanding books for young readers. She is the winner of a Smarties Prize gold award for Spilled Water. Sally researches her novels meticulously. Her other novels for Bloomsbury are Feather Wars, Hurricane Wills, Saving Finnegan, Broken Glass and Torn Pages.