Close to the Wind (14 page)

The other boys were quiet, either pretending to be asleep or reading books. In the opposite bunk lay a young boy in shorts, his knees drawn up into his chest and a comic held close to his face. Malik noticed it was only the younger children who wore shorts – all the older boys were in long trousers. He looked at his own bare legs and his green Wellington boots and remembered the long trousers in his rucksack.

He slipped off his boots and brought his legs inside the frame of the bed, then opened the top
flap of his rucksack, took out the cat and held him close to his chest. The cat made him feel better and Malik stroked along his back till Booty purred and rubbed his nose against his arm. Malik felt a flicker of interest in the eyes of the other boys, and when he looked across the young boy opposite had put down his comic and was staring at Malik with wide eyes. Malik smiled, but he still didn’t speak. He found his trousers and tugged them free of the sack. Putting Booty under his arm, he walked back along the row of beds and out into the corridor.

In the men’s bathroom, a pipe ran the length of one wall with taps fitted at intervals of about sixty centimetres. Below it ran a stainless steel trough that was used as a sink, where men stood stripped to the waist with razors in their hands, their cheeks half covered in soap. Four men stood in the corner of the bathroom, changing into clean clothes that they had hung from the top of the partition. Their nakedness alarmed Malik, who was used to getting changed in private.

‘Excuse me?’ He stopped a man who was on his way out. ‘Where are the toilets?’

The man waved a hand to the opposite wall where there was an identical trough without the taps.
‘Those are the pissers,’ he pointed out. ‘Cubicles are at the far end. See? But I wouldn’t go in there – you might never make it out again. Use the ones upstairs if you can get away with it.’

Malik could smell the toilets from where he stood, so he changed his trousers in the corner with the other men. If he stood facing the wall, he wouldn’t have to look at any of them. When he was done, he walked back to the dormitory with his long trousers tucked into the top of his Wellington boots.

As he approached his bed, Malik saw an older boy bent over his bunk, sorting through the contents of Malik’s rucksack, which were spread across the mattress. He was holding the roll of twine in his hand. ‘What are you doing with my things?’ Malik asked.

The boy ducked out from under the bunk and stood up straight. He was taller than Malik and his features had begun to sharpen into a man’s. He didn’t seem to mind being caught out. ‘I was seeing what you have. You’ve got some useful stuff, but you shouldn’t leave your things lying around like that or they’ll get stolen.’ He suddenly narrowed his eyes and thrust his head forward. ‘Christ, you’ve got a cat. You’ll be popular. Is he a ratter?’ The boy gave back the ball of twine without even looking at Malik – he
only had eyes for the cat. He stretched out a hand and tickled Booty’s chin but Malik moved the cat away and put him down on the bed.

‘You seem to have my pillow.’ Malik took it back from the upper bunk and laid it on his mattress, then he began to put his things back in his rucksack – the screwdriver and pliers, the two candles still left in the box. Seeing them reminded Malik of Papa and a sudden choking feeling rose up in his throat. ‘You shouldn’t touch my things,’ he told the boy.

‘I was only seeing what you’ve got.’ The boy sat down on Malik’s mattress. ‘Well, is he? Is he a ratter?’

Malik swallowed hard. ‘I think so. I’m not sure.’

‘It’s worth finding out though, isn’t it? It could be useful.’ The boy looked around the room as though there should be a rat somewhere close.

Malik decided to impress him. ‘I had to smuggle him on board.’

‘Did you? So you’re a smuggler? That could be useful too.’ He looked over his shoulder at the door. ‘Listen. You need to keep him secret. If they find him, they’ll throw him overboard.’ He paused. ‘I’ve got cigarettes. Did I tell you?’

Malik shook his head. ‘They won’t throw him
overboard. No one ever does that to cats. Not if you smuggle them on board.’

‘They will. That’s what they do when they’re not allowed.’

‘The purser’s already seen him. He says I can keep him. And Miss Price knows too.’

The boy looked puzzled. He stared at Malik as though he didn’t understand what he had said, then suddenly he stood up, unzipped the leather bag on his own mattress and began rummaging about. Malik saw he was wearing a decent pair of long trousers and proper brown leather shoes that were scuffed at the toes. The boy ducked back under his bunk and held out a bright red cricket ball, so close to Malik’s face that he could smell the leather. The ball was shiny and red like an apple, with crisp white stitches that ran in double lines around its centre. ‘That’s real, that is,’ he said.

Malik read the words written in gold letters on the side of the ball:
‘Four and three quarter ounces, hand-sewn.’

The boy stood up straight again, reaching onto his bunk, and a moment later returned with a fullsize cricket bat. He held it horizontally under Malik’s nose. ‘Feel the weight of that. Go on.’

Malik took hold of the bat and weighed it in his hands. He nodded.

The boy took it back and let it rest on his lap. ‘I don’t have a set of stumps. We could chalk them on the wall, though. Over there at the end of the room. We’d have to move those bunks to the side to play a decent game.’ His hand divided the air in front of him and swept the bunks aside. ‘You can feel how good the bat is. Proper English willow. It’s a bit big for me but I’ll grow into it. It’s better that way than having a small one that won’t last. Don’t you agree?’

‘Yes,’ said Malik.

‘Do you play cricket?’

‘No,’ said Malik. ‘I mean yes.’ He decided to come clean. ‘Actually, I’ve never tried.’

The boy frowned. ‘You’ve got to play cricket if you want to get on.’ He took the bat away and Malik could hear him going through his bag again. ‘I’ve got loads of stuff.’ There was a clink of cutlery and a hand appeared, holding a thin wooden box. ‘Dominoes,’ declared the boy.

Malik ducked out of the bottom bunk and stood up. Poking from the boy’s open bag was a gilt-edged picture frame and a silver candlestick – it looked like
something you’d find in an antique shop. He held out a hand to the boy, the way he’d seen Papa do at parties. ‘I’m Malik, by the way.’

The boy pushed the things back inside and zipped up the holdall. ‘Oskar,’ he said. They shook hands. ‘I think I’ll introduce you to Steffan. You’ll like Steffan. He’s got a deck of playing cards and a set of keys that can open every door.’ He swung his heavy leather bag onto his shoulder. ‘Come on, then. Let’s get going.’ He nodded at Malik’s rucksack. ‘I wouldn’t leave that there.’

Malik followed Oskar up on deck. The sun had broken through the clouds and the fresh air felt good on his face. He looked for land but could now see nothing but waves.

The two of them walked around the edge of the deck. ‘The thing about the next few days is it’s all about money. It’s about cash and making contacts.’ Oskar swung his bag round to the other shoulder to prevent it hitting a man who stood looking out to sea. ‘When we land we’ll be in a strange place. We’ll have no money and nowhere to live, so it’ll be hard.
I expect they’ll treat us like dogs. No, worse than dogs. They’ll treat us like …’ Oskar stumbled on his own idea. He wasn’t able to think of anything they treated worse than dogs.

The rucksack was awkward on Malik’s shoulder. He swung it higher. ‘I don’t think that can be right.’ He held Booty with one arm and the cat’s claws gripped his shirt and his ears were stiff and upright as he looked out to sea. ‘The purser told me the charity who paid for our tickets would look after us. He was really nice to me, and so was Miss Price.’

Oskar shook his head. ‘They may seem nice now, but once we get there they won’t want to know – it’ll be every man for himself. No different to how it was back home. We’ll probably have to scavenge in bins.’

‘Is that what you did?’

Oskar stopped walking. ‘Maybe. Didn’t you?’ He watched Malik for a reaction, then stepped closer. He lowered his voice. ‘I’ve taken stuff from the pockets of dead men.’

‘What sort of stuff?’

‘Anything. Wallets, guns. Don’t you believe me?’

Malik didn’t know what he believed. ‘Is that what you’ve got in your bag?’

Oskar tightened his grip on the leather handle. ‘I’ve got all sorts in here.’

Malik was sure he had. ‘What about your parents? What happened to them?’

Oskar’s face tightened and Malik couldn’t tell whether he was about to cry or shout. He took a step back and saw Oskar’s hands ball up into fists. ‘You don’t ask about that,’ he snarled. ‘You never ask anyone that kind of stuff. What’s the matter with you?’

‘Sorry,’ Malik said quickly.

Oskar glared at him and Malik realized that, unlike him, these boys might actually have lost their families. They might have seen them killed. They might have lost all hope. He said it again like he meant it, ‘I’m really sorry,’ and he held out his hand.

Oskar hesitated, then accepted. ‘That’s all right. You’re new here. You don’t know how things work.’

Malik thought he knew some things. ‘The purser said they would find us families to live with, not our proper families but people who would look after us as if they were proper. I don’t know how I feel about that.’

The dark clouds had shifted from Oskar’s face as quickly as they came. He answered matter-of-factly.
‘I don’t think that can be right. Why would anyone do that?’

Malik shrugged. ‘That’s what he said.’

Oskar shrugged back. ‘I suppose you can believe who you like, but it doesn’t seem very likely.’

His eyes flicked up and Malik was aware of someone standing behind him. He turned to see Mariam, the woman who had brought him on board the ship.

‘I thought it was you,’ she said to Malik. ‘I’m glad I found you.’ She fiddled with the clasp of her small black handbag, popped it open and found her purse. ‘I have some money for you. Your grandfather asked me to give it to you but you rushed away before I had the chance.’ She held out a fistful of notes that were folded neatly in half, the pink notes placed at the back.

Malik knew it must be Hector’s money that Papa had tried to give him in the cottage and it made him feel uncomfortable. ‘You keep it,’ he told her. ‘I don’t want it.’

Oskar put his hand out. ‘I’ll take it for him. He’s not thinking straight.’

Mariam looked at Oskar and dismissed him with a turn of the shoulder. She pressed the cash into
Malik’s chest. ‘Go on. Take it.’ She took hold of his fingers and closed them round the notes. ‘You should put it away quickly. You can never be too certain.’

Malik stuffed the handful of money into his trouser pocket and stared at the flustered woman. ‘What did Papa say to you?’ Malik wanted to know the truth of what had happened. ‘Did you know him from before? Did he say what had happened to Mama?’

‘Dear me … so many questions.’ Mariam produced a compact mirror from her handbag and checked the powder on her nose.

Malik touched the hand that held the mirror, compelling the woman to look at him. ‘I know I ask too many questions, but I need to know.’

Mariam nodded. She took a deep breath and spoke slowly. ‘Your grandfather approached us on the dock while we were waiting to board the ship. He told us that he had got you a ticket but didn’t have one for himself. He said you wouldn’t get onto the boat without him and asked my husband and I to take you on board. He said to mention the purser, to tell you that your mother would be in the purser’s office so that you’d come on board with us. It was all very last minute.’

‘So you lied to me?’

Malik could see he’d caused offence. Mariam’s features hardened. ‘I don’t make a habit of lying to children. Perhaps you aren’t aware of what was happening in the town – I wouldn’t want a child of my own left there. I expect you will understand when you are older.’ Her voice softened when she said, ‘Anyway, I wanted you to have the money. I didn’t want to keep it.’

Malik said, ‘When we arrive, I’m going to get a boat straight back and I’m going to look for them till I find them.’

Mariam nodded. ‘Well, I hope you find them. I really do.’ She lifted a finger to Booty’s ear and tickled it. ‘What a lovely cat,’ she said before she left.

‘Some people have all the luck,’ said Oskar.

Malik took the money from his pocket, divided the notes and slapped half of them into Oskar’s hand. ‘Have this. So you stop complaining.’

Oskar pocketed the stash without hesitating, but he did say, ‘I hope you find them too. I mean, if you ever go back.’