by Jan Michael
She just smiled at him.
He slumped back on the seat. Wind from the open car window lifted the hair from his neck and blew the woman’s hair around her face. She put a hand upand held it still. Then she turned and indicated that he should wind up the window. ‘It’s too draughty,’ she said.
He stared at her. ‘Pig,’ he mouthed, willing her to react.
‘Close it,’ she said, miming the action. When he did nothing, she sighed, and wound up the window herself.
They drove past the rubbish heap. Without the air from the windows, it was stifling inside the car. The man and woman were talking quietly. Joshua didn’t understand a word. A better life. He hadn’t thought beyond that. It had all happened too quickly. Now Sister Martha’s other words rang in his ears: shoes the whole time, socks, no sea. He hadn’t realised. It was uncomfortable in his sandals. He kicked them off. ‘The other side of the world,’ Sister Martha had said. No Pig, he thought.
By now they were approaching the hospital building.
He reached out his left hand and, very carefully, lifted the knob on the door that he’d seen the woman press down. His heart thudded and the blood roared in his ears.
Ahead of them Swabber put one paw in the road and began limping across, not looking to left or right.
The man braked and the car slowed almost to a stop. Joshua pressed down on the door handle and pushed. It flew open. He landed awkwardly on one knee, then jumped to his feet, not looking round, and ran.
He heard shouts behind him, a car door slamming and the sound of heavy footsteps.
Joshua ran even faster, tring to work out his escape route in his head as he ran. If he continued on by the hospital he’d come to the row of small shops and the market and they’d find him again. And he couldn’t go back. He dithered, then swerved to the left and struck off, crashing through the oleander bushes.
Sweet, musty scent broke over him in a wave. Twigs scratched his cheeks and his scalp. Pink blossom brushed his shoulders and fell to the ground as he passed. Instinctively, he went the way he’d seen his father go. Ahead of him was a belt of thicker bushes, their leaves dark green and glossy. He barged through those too, layer after layer of them, till they thinned out and he thought he saw a path, of sorts.
He had a stitch in his side. He stopped, panting, holding his ribs, and looked around him. A parrot screeched at him from a nearby tree, its eyes glittering wickedly from among gaudy green feathers. But that was the only sound. No twigs snapped behind him; there was no one following.
If he turned back, the couple would be waiting. He didn’t dare try to sneak round to the beach where the others would be picknicking in case Sister brought him back. And if he went to Robert’s house or to Millie’s they might tell on him.
Above him the mountains loomed. His father had come from up there, even though he had never admitted it. He was on the path Robert said the mountain men took. That first mountain man with the berries would have come this way. If he went on far enough, he’d find them.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The earth was dry and hard behind the belt of bushes. The rough path climbed gradually upwards, and so did Joshua. He was hungry. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast and the sun was now high in the sky.
He caught his hand on a thorn bush. He stopped and sucked the scratch. When he looked up, he noticed a shelter, just a canopy stretched over poles, and, outside, a monkey playing. It had a banana in its hand.
He edged forward till he could see into the shelter. It was empty. The monkey was chained to one of the poles and hadn’t seen him. It let the banana fall and dug its fingers into its fur, looking for fleas.
Joshua leaped for the banana and retreated with it. He sat down to eat at a safe distance from the monkey.
The monkey was furious. It jabbered at him and waved its fist.
Joshua peeled the banana and gulped it down.
The monkey hurled itself forward as far as its chain would permit.
Joshua flinched. Then he grinned. It couldn’t reach him.
The monkey danced back angrily on its chain and lurched forward again.
But Joshua was not going to be frightened away.
At last it gave up. It stared with sad worried eyes at Joshua then sat down on its thin, wrinkled bottom and began picking fleas from its mangy skin.
Joshua got up, set his face towards the mountain and began to trudge upwards once more. After another hour he was still passing scattered thorn bushes and stunted trees and the mountains seemed just as high above him as they had when he started. He wasn’t used to climbing. His legs ached, his mouth was dry, his head pounded.
A shadow fell on the path. At the end of the shadow walked a man in a blanket and conical hat.
Joshua waited nervously. The man’s strides slowed as he approached.
Joshua bowed. ‘Hello,’ he said, ‘My name’s Joshua.’
The man stopped.
‘My father was a mountain man.’ There, it was out. A weight lifted from him. He went on. ‘He’s dead now. Can I come to your village?’
The man was puzzled. He took his water bottle from his belt and handed it over with a curt bow. Perhaps it was water that the boy from the coast wanted.
Joshua seized the bottle and drank greedily. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘They wanted to adopt me,’ he told the man, returning the bottle. ‘But I ran away. Can I come and live with you?’
The man opened his mouth and spoke.
Joshua’s face clouded over. He didn’t understand any of the words; they just sounded like grunts.
The man stopped talking and waved an arm at Joshua, then pointed to the ground and back down at the coast.
Joshua thought he was telling him to wait. ‘All right,’ he said.
The mountain man turned on his heel and went back up the trail as swiftly and silently as he had come. He was going to tell the others, Joshua thought, and then he’d be back for him. He sat down to wait. He waited so patiently and quietly that a lizard came close to his feet, paused, then scurried lightly up his leg and on to his elbow where it was resting on his knee. They stared at each other before Joshua shook it off.
He looked back up the path. It was empty and the shadows were lengthening as the evening came on. On impulse, he gathered small stones together and made a circle with an arrow inside, pointing downwards. Then he set off at a run, back to the monkey. It would be less lonely to wait with the monkey to keep him company.
The animal was not pleased to see him again. It chattered angrily and bared its teeth. Careful to keep it at a distance, Joshua circled the shelter, looking for more food or water. In the corner, on a stone, he saw a bag. He darted at it, and was out of the monkey’s reach before it could react. The monkey screamed in fury.
Joshua unwrapped the sacking. Inside there was no food, just a knife, its blade shiny and well cared for. He rested the blade in his hand.
‘Calm down,’ he said to the monkey, which was dancing up and down, still screaming.
Joshua ignored it. He scrabbled around, looking for wood and found a piece about a foot long that felt good when he picked it up. He sat on a flat stone near the end of the monkey’s chain and began to cut and whittle.
The sound seemed to soothe the creature. It still looked worriedly at Joshua, but it sat down now and picked at itself as before, looking at him every time it raised a flea to its mouth, keeping him under surveillance.
A pointed head emerged from the wood, then one crooked foot and another. Joshua held the lizard in his imagination as he carved. He worked on down the body, making it twist slightly as if it was running.
Above him the sky was darkening. The heavens opened and rain poured down on the mountain in great vertical sheets of water. Trapped on its chain, the monkey was sodden in a matter of seconds, the rain running down his fur in torrents. Although Joshua was standing only a few feet away, the spot where he stood was still dry. It was like watching the monkey through a glass wall. He reache
d out and put his arm into the wall. The rain wet it up to the elbow. He pulled it back and watched the drops of water evaporate on his skin.
Abruptly the rain stopped. Steam rose from the ground in front of him. The monkey, which had curled up in a ball when the rain came, raised its head and shook water from its fur. Joshua put the knife to the wood again. He shaped out a third leg and a fourth. And still no one came to bring him to the mountains.
He looked up towards the peaks, which showed black against the deep purple of the setting sun. The temperature was dropping. Joshua wished he had his bundle of belongings with him so he could have put on a second shirt. He carved out a tiny powerful tail and shivered. Why was no one coming? He got up. Perhaps he’d better go back to where he’d met the mountain man. He tucked his shirt inside his shorts and put the wooden lizard down his front. Then he wrapped up the knife, laid it on the stone, and set his face back towards the mountains.
He felt small and exposed in the clear moonlight. Each thorn bush looked the same as the last, and it was difficult to see the path. He stopped, pursed his lips and whistled, once, twice, sending the sound sharply into the still air, the way his father had taught him.
There was no answering whistle.
He no longer knew if he was on the right trail. There weren’t even any bushes with berries as he’d expected. Which must mean, he realised, that he still had a long way to go.
A solitary tree blocked his path. He didn’t remember going past a tree before. He rested his forehead on the rough bark and his bottom lip trembled. He was so tired. He slid down the trunk and curled up at its base, making himself as small as possible. Faintly, far below, he thought he could hear the sound of waves breaking.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Twigs snapped and leaves rustled as a man in a conical hat picked his way through the undergrowth. In his arms he carried a large bundle – a bundle totally covered up by the blanket that hung from his shoulders, except for two bare, brown legs that dangled down. It was difficult to see here in the darkness where the leaves shut out the moonlight. He carried on, trusting to memory and smell, and reached the oleanders.
He paused. There was a path to the right and he took it. A dog appeared out of the darkness, raised its muzzle and sniffed, nostrils quivering. It whined quietly. It limped towards the man, whined again and began to walk ahead of him. It turned, making sure that he was following, and led him on to a cluster of small houses around a wide, dusty clearing. No lamps or candles burned in the darkness; everyone was sleeping. Except for one. As Swabber walked across to the stone shop, she came from the doorway where she’d been watching and shuffled towards the man.
He took a step back, holding tightly to the bundle in his arms. She signed to him that she meant him no harm. This time he let her approach. She lifted the corner of his blanket and looked beneath. Then she smiled – a toothless, shy smile – and touched the mountain man by the hand. Beckoning him to follow, she led him a short distance back the way he had come. Swabber limped alongside.
They reached jasmine bushes. ‘Put him down,’ she said, gesturing.
Something hard and wooden dug into Joshua’s stomach. Scratchy wool rubbed his cheeks and arm. He recognised a sweet fragrance as he was set on his feet. He opened his eyes and saw the mountain man bending over him. He could hear the sea. The man touched Joshua’s head lightly, bowed, and left.
A hand held his. Old Mama Siska led him towards the convent where lights still shone. He stumbled with tiredness and only dimly saw a rush of white as Sister Martha caught him and picked him up.
He heard murmuring above his head. ‘Ouf, he’s quite a weight.’
‘What else do you expect?’ said another.
‘Drink,’ Sister Mary’s voice said, and sweet, warm liquid was put to his lips. The voices receded again and he was carried to bed and undressed. Something fell out of his shirt on to the bed. There was a small gasp. Then he felt it being put in his hand, and his fingers closed over the rough lizard. He grasped it tightly as he was helped into bed. His head touched something hard and smooth. His eyes flickered open and glimpsed Pig.
‘Marius and Vincent put him there,’ he heard Sister Martha’s whisper. ‘Hoping he’d come back.’
He fell asleep again at once, Pig standing guard.
CHAPTER TWENTY - ONE
‘Up, all of you! Up!’
Joshua heard the call and the clap of Sister Martha’s hands.
‘Come along, Joshua!’
He threw back the sheet and got out of bed and joined the others.
‘God bless to us this day,’ Sister Martha said.
‘And ourselves to His service. Amen,’ they chorused back.
‘Breakfast in ten minutes.’
It was a day like every day in the orphanage. He splashed water on his face and his neck and arms. They were scratched from the thorns. When he saw Marius looking at the scratches he grinned. Younger brother, he thought, pleased. He cupped water in his hands and threw it at him.
Marius ran, squealing.
He sat down at his place at the table and, as usual, forgot to pass the teapot until one of the girls reminded him, and, of course, was one of the last to finish what was in his bowl.
There was a rustle from behind and Sister Martha leaned between him and Marius. ‘Joshua, when you’ve finished, I want you to come with me to Reverend Mother’s study.’
Joshua put down his spoon. ‘Why?’ he asked.
‘Mr and Mrs Nettar are here.’
The others round the long table had stopped talking and were listening, agog.
Joshua began to shake. ‘I want to stay here,’ he said.
‘I know you do.’ Her mouth was set in a grim line. ‘Aren’t you going to finish that?’ She pointed at the food left in his bowl.
He shook his head. His appetite had vanished.
‘Then we may as well go now.’
He followed her out to the passage.
‘Hello, Josh.’
He was startled to see Robert. ‘Hello.’
Robert brought his hands out from behind his back. ‘Here,’ he said, handing over a small newspaper bundle. ‘I was keeping them safe for you.’
Joshua unwrapped the paper. Inside, to his amazement, were his knife and the piece of wood. When he looked up, Robert was smiling at him. He bundled them up again and smiled back. ‘Thanks.’
‘I didn’t know if you’d come back,’ his friend went on. ‘Sister Martha came and told us last night you’d gone. Mum says she’s making your biscuits and will you come and have some this afternoon after school?’
Joshua nodded. His eyes slid up to Sister Martha’s. ‘Can I?’ he asked.
‘Would you like Robert to come with you to Reverend Mother?’
His mouth went dry again. He nodded. She hadn’t answered his question. He held the bundle tightly as they walked.
Robert nudged him. ‘She cried when she came to our house last night,’ he whispered.
Joshua digested this piece of information. He hadn’t ever seen anyone cry over him.
Three faces turned towards them when they entered Reverend Mother’s study. The man and woman looked tired and tense. They were holding hands tightly. Joshua concentrated on looking at Mother John, as if by doing that, he could shut out the strangers.
She examined him, her eyes hard and piercing. Finally she spoke. ‘We have been discussing you,’ she said. ‘Mr and Mrs Nettar are upset that you ran away. Very upset indeed.’
Joshua waited. At his side, Robert was still too.
‘We’ve also been talking to Sister Martha. She thinks it may not be such a good idea for you to leave us.’
His heart did a tiny skip.
‘But,’ she went on, ‘they have adopted you, and you did say yes.’
Joshua drooped. Behind him, Sister Martha rested a hand lightly on his shoulder.
‘You must learn not to say yes without thinking.’
He moved backwards, closer to Sister Martha, and Ro
bert shuffled nearer.
‘They have come a long way to fetch you.’
‘That’s not Joshua’s fault!’ Robert burst out.
‘Thank you, Robert,’ she said drily. ‘Just what I was about to say. You are a very fortunate boy, Joshua.’
Oh no, he thought, remembering Sister Martha’s words the morning before. He didn’t want to go with the strangers. He knew that now; he didn’t want that bed, he didn’t want to go.
‘Mr and Mrs Nettar have missed one flight already. They have to leave this afternoon, and they would still like to take you.’
He froze.
‘If you would like to go. But Sister Martha has advised them that this would be a mistake.’ He held his breath. ‘And I have told them that I agree with her.’
He stared at Mother John, not daring to believe.
‘Now, Joshua. I’m going to ask you again. Would you like these good people to adopt you?’
He looked straight into her eyes and shook his head.
‘What did you say?’ she asked sharply.
‘No, Reverend Mother,’ he answered, trying desperately to hide the quiver in his voice.
‘Have you anything else to say?’
He didn’t dare.
Sister Martha opened her mouth.
‘No, Sister,’ Reverend Mother said sharply. ‘Let the boy speak for himself. Now, Joshua,’ her voice softened.
‘Would you like to stay with us?’
‘Yes, please, Reverend Mother,’ he said eagerly
‘And there’ll be no more running away? No more escaping?’
He shook his head.
Joshua watched her turn to the foreign couple and speak to them in their language. The man protested but the woman said something that made him lower his head to hers and rest it there.
Reverend Mother turned to face Joshua once more and regarded him gravely. Then her stern, wrinkled face eased. ‘You may stay.’
