Three Hours(94)
*
Camille bends down and looks at the terrified children under the tables, her knees shaking as she crouches.
‘You can come out of your house now. You’re safe.’
She opens the door of the pottery room, with children clustered around her; all of them seem to be holding on to a part of her – her hands, her cardigan sleeves, her gilet. Anna is holding tightly to her skirt. Davy, his face tear-streaked, holds on to her wrist because her hands are already taken.
Police and men in grey uniforms are running towards the children, their hair and uniforms covered in snow and ash, and she sees that one of the men in grey is crying.
Beyond them in the woods, students and teachers are putting down small trees. She recognizes children that she’s taught, Hannah and Frank and Tobias, and more police are with them; she spots Daphne and Matthew’s secretary and Old School’s receptionist.
The ambulance people have blankets that they wrap around the children and someone puts a blanket around her too, and she thinks it’s not so much that she’s cold, although she is suddenly terribly, terribly cold, but that it’s symbolic of something good but she doesn’t have the energy any more to think or even to stand.
*
Rafi has crawled halfway across the car park towards the boatshed. He cannot feel his hands or his knees in the snow as he crawls, just the pain in his leg from the shrapnel. As he gets close to the shed, he thinks someone is watching him, following him to Basi; hatred wearing an anorak and cracking twigs, hunting them down.
He waits for the heavy snow to fill in his tracks, so that he won’t bring danger to Basi.
A little while ago, he got a text from Hannah.
We have left theatre. We r Birnam wood marching 2 Dunsinane. U were right about trees. Love u
A few minutes later he heard a huge explosion in the distance. But they were all out, they were in the woods. Safe. And then he heard shots. The police. Surely the police.
He looks around the car park, but the snow is too thick to see anything further than a foot away and the gusting wind camouflages all other sounds with its own.
*
He’s crying and his legs are shaking and he just wants Rafi. He can’t ever have Baba and Karam and maybe not Mama, not ever again, so he just wants Rafi; wants his arms around him, holding him tightly. But he fed his animals in his phone and he didn’t tell Rafi where he is. He’s stupid and he wees himself at night and Rafi’s wrong, he’s not brave as Basi Bukhari because Basi Bukhari isn’t brave at all.
He hears a quiet rat-a-TAT-tat, rat-a-TAT-tat; so quiet he thinks he’s imagining it. Then he hears it again rat-a-TAT-tat, rat-a-TAT-tat.
He gets out of the boat, feeling his way towards the door. He’s bumping into things and once he trips but he gets to the door; he feels on the door for the rusty, creaky bolt and he finds it and then he pulls it back and opens the door.
Rafi’s here!
Rafi comes inside and shuts the door and it’s dark again; and in the dark he can feel Rafi’s arms around him and he’s all covered in snow.
He’s really here!
Rafi puts on his phone and shines it as a torch around the shed and it’s not dark any more. Rafi pushes the bolt across the door again.
‘Are you all right, Little Monkey?’
‘I thought you wouldn’t find me.’
‘Course I did.’
‘There’s a boat at the back, that’s where I’ve been hiding.’
They go to the back of the shed together and they get in the boat. He has to help Rafi because of his poor leg, it’s all bleeding and hurt, and his face is bleeding too but he’s got a really big smile.
They’re in the boat together and he hugs Rafi and hugs him, even though he’s covered in snow, and Rafi hugs him tightly back. The light suddenly goes off.
‘My mobile’s out of juice,’ Rafi says and it’s like his phone is magic, like it knew it had to last just long enough till Rafi got here. Though Rafi has probably been careful, because he always makes sure he has enough juice to speak to Basi.
Rafi rubs his legs and then his arms, but he still can’t get very warm, and Rafi can’t give him a hot potato through his anorak so he gives his hands a hot potato.
Basi’s hands feel like little ice blocks against Rafi’s mouth as he tries to use his own breath to warm him.
‘There was a bomb,’ Basi says, his words hopping up and down with his shivering. ‘I heard it.’
‘Nobody was hurt. They were all outside pretending to be trees.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes.’
‘It’s funny we’re inside a boat inside a shed, isn’t it?’ Basi says, his words still hopping up and down with his shivering, and Rafi knows he’s been waiting to say this, hoping that Rafi wouldn’t notice so that Basi can point it out.
‘It’s hilarious!’ Rafi says.
Basi is shaking with cold and his laugh sounds different.
‘Remember when I went blue?’ Basi asks.
‘Course I do.’
The third night on the boat from Egypt to Italy, no shelter on the deck. Basi turning blue with cold, all the children turning blue, as the rain hammered down over them. Everyone crammed up against the stern, pushing the boat too low in the water, nobody at the bow because of the huge waves. Rafi was terrified they were going to capsize and go into the violent sea so he got out his laser pointer, to shine if they capsized so a nearby ship would see them and rescue them, but there weren’t any ships, the sea vast and empty and dark, and all he had was a laser pointer. Then he saw Basi watching him.