Hostage Three (23 page)

Then one day the camel, who had not drunk for five years, because camels rarely need water, became too thirsty to bear. She went carefully down to the water, but the lion heard this, and fell on her and devoured her.

The other beasts were shocked. They loved Camel, and couldn't believe she was gone. They asked who would rid the land of the mad lion.

— I will, said the squirrel.

The other beasts laughed, the hyena loudest of all.

— Don't be ridiculous, said the fox.

— You are puny, said the hippo. You are small. You will be killed.

— I am small, said the squirrel. So I will win. What will you give me if I do?

The turtle giggled.

— If you win, we will make you king of the beasts, she said.

— Very well, said the squirrel.

He went away from the other beasts, feeling very angry, but he knew what to do. He went to his hut and took out a ball of grease, which he put on a rock to soften in the sun. Then, when it was warm enough, he took the grease and rubbed it all over himself, all over his fur.

Finally, he began to walk to the watering hole. He didn't try to hide or to climb the trees. He just strolled towards the water, out in the open.

The lion saw the squirrel coming and his mad eyes rolled. He leaped at the little creature, roaring, and squashed it to death.

Or so he thought. For the lion didn't see or feel that the greasy squirrel had slipped out from under his paw and rolled away. As the lion roared again in triumph, the squirrel leaped up and into his mouth. Then he scurried down the lion's throat and into the mad king's belly.

Meanwhile, the rest of the beasts had arrived, having heard the ruckus, and stood at a safe distance.

— Oh dear, said the hyena, seeing the lion roaring his victory. The squirrel is dead.

— What a surprise, said the turtle.

But even as they spoke, the squirrel was running around inside the lion, biting, scratching.

As the beasts watched, the lion's eyes began to roll even more than usual. Then they froze, the whites showing, and the lion toppled down on to the grass. The squirrel emerged from the lion's mouth, hopped on to its head and did a little dance, all covered in blood.

— All hail the king, he said, before licking himself clean.

After the deal was called off
, Tony and Dad spent a lot of time in the dining room with Ahmed and Nyesh, trying to restart negotiations. That meant I found it difficult to avoid the stepmother, which made for a whole festival of fun, I can tell you.

She came up to me when it was our shower time in the morning.

— Amy, she said. She'd lowered her voice into that I'm-going-to-tell-you-a-secret tone.

— What? I said, and I was annoyed to hear that I'd done it, too, just because she had, my voice in the corridor like a stage whisper. It's like a spell – if you whisper to someone they have to whisper back.

— I've got my period. She pointed down, like I couldn't understand words or something.

I stared at her for a moment.

— Oh, I said. Right.

She touched my arm.

— I can't talk to your dad about it, she said.

I could see what she was doing, see the bond she was trying to create, and all it did was make me cringe.

— I suppose not, I said, though I didn't really think so – I mean, aren't you supposed to be able to talk to your husband about anything?

— The thing is, she went on, I don't have any stuff.

— You didn't bring anything?

— Of course I brought some, she said a bit testily. I don't know what happened, though. The pirates must have taken it.

— Really?

— Yes, god knows why.

I looked at her. I didn't know if she was making it up to give us something to talk about, something girly, but it wasn't like I could say no.

— Don't worry, I said. I have some tampons in my cabin.

On the way, Ahmed stopped us. We were allowed in our cabins in the day, but the pirates always got suspicious if they saw two of us in there together, like we might be plotting something.

— We need . . . woman supplies, I said to him. I pointed to my cabin.

His face spoke embarrassment and understanding. He waved us onwards with his gun.

In the cabin, the stepmother put them in her pocket.

— Thanks, Amy, she said. You're a lifesaver. Now if you can just get me some herbal tea, a romcom and some aspirin . . .

— There are painkillers in the medicine cabinet, I said, pretending like she wasn't trying to do some creepy rapport thing. I'm sure Ahmed will let you have some.

I left her, and as soon as I left her, she left my thoughts.

There wasn't much spare room in my thoughts; there was too much of someone else in there.

What I thought about: Farouz. Only Farouz. I hated him, and at the same time I couldn't get him out of my head, couldn't get my thoughts to stop turning to him, like he was the North Star and my mind was a compass. It's like being ill, I realised then, having a crush on someone, being in love with someone, whatever. It changes the shapes and colours of absolutely everything; makes the world feel different, swollen.

I did speak to him a couple of times over those three days while the new deal was being done. I had to. I mean, it's not like we could totally blank each other on that little yacht. People would have noticed. And when I did speak to him, or when I saw him, it seemed like he was as angry as me, because he would suddenly blow up, not at me directly, but at nothing in particular.

— They've used all the fucking sugar! he would say, as I was passing in the corridor. Animals.

Or:

— That bloody bastard Mohammed!

— I hate this yacht, he said, kicking the pump for the shower as I walked past on the way to the toilet.

I think this was his way of telling me he wasn't happy about the situation, either. Like his feelings were at all comparable. I mean, what he'd done, the way he'd revealed us – informing Ahmed how Dad and Tony had lied – could have got us killed. He had put us in real danger – even more than before, that is – and he was going around acting like it was some kind of an argument of entitlement instead of him being selfish. He kind of smouldered constantly, and at the same time seemed to take up less room. He withdrew into himself, made himself smaller, harder and somehow more flammable, too, like trees get compacted by rock and time into coal.

Meanwhile, Damian was stalking the corridors, beaming, as if he was some kind of see-saw person with Farouz, and because one of them was bad-tempered, it made the other one tip up into happiness. I knew what it was: he could see what was happening with me and Farouz, and he liked it, because he hated the idea of a connection between us.

I thought, is he protecting me, like a dutiful captain, or does he just fancy me? Maybe it was a bit of both.

 

That second morning, when Farouz kicked the shower, Tony and Dad came into the cinema room, all excited because they had swiped a portable VHF that one of the pirates had left lying around. They said they'd managed to raise the navy on it, and had agreed a private channel. Tony admitted he wasn't sure what good it would do, though – there was still no way the navy would take the risk of an attack, not with us on board. But it was comforting to think that there was a potential link with the outside world, a link the pirates didn't know about. The navy had given them news from Tony and Damian and Felipe's families: they were well; they were thinking of them.

Esme and Carrie had set up a Facebook tribute page for me, apparently, which had, like, a hundred thousand fans. I thought that was a bit morbid – I mean, that's what people do for their dead friends.

I spent the day with Felipe on the deck. At first, I came out and he tried to look away, to not catch my eye. I got it, I really did. His life was at stake, but it was Dad's money that would get us all freed if things went well. It meant that Felipe wasn't in control, yet shouldn't he have a say in things?

I walked over to him, so that he had to look up at me.

— Dad and Tony, they don't mean to be dicks, I said.

Felipe did a surprised laugh.

— I didn't say they were, he said.

— No. But you were angry, and you had every right to be. They should tell you what's going on.

— Yes, he said thoughtfully. But not just them. Damian, also. Everyone. You.

— Me? I said, shocked.

— You went to the negotiation table. I was not there. You did not say anything.

I started to open my mouth, then closed it again.

— Sorry, I said.

— It's OK, he replied. It's just circumstances. Too close. Too small. People start to lose their shit.

Now it was my turn to do a surprised laugh. After that, the tension was broken, and Felipe motioned for me to sit down next to him.

It was nice – I hadn't spoken to him much before, but he turned out to be a lovely guy. He had a wife back home in London, and a baby. Nine months old. He showed me pictures from his wallet. I felt ashamed that I hadn't known.

— She's beautiful, I said, meaning his wife, meaning the baby, too. She had curly hair, these enormous black eyes and a wide smile, revealing two teeth at the bottom.

— Yes, he said. We were trying for many years. She is our blessing. When she was born . . . I used to think it was stupid when people said, I would die for you. Now I understand. When they put her in my arms, I felt I could levitate if I wanted to, or step in front of a bus for her, no problem.

When he touched the picture of his baby, I felt something constrict around my throat. I couldn't explain it – it was just his finger on a photo, but there was something about it. I felt the love in it, and I heard it in his voice when he told me that she'd just started crawling, but could only do it backward. How, when he used to Skype his wife at 6 p.m. when the internet came on, the baby, Melissa, would smile when she heard his voice. Of course, he hadn't been able to do that since the pirates took over.

— I am not afraid to die, said Felipe. But I am afraid to leave her without a father. I should be there to protect her. His voice cracked, and horror rushed out of the crack and into me.

My dad loved me like that once, I thought. My dad showed my photo to people and spoke with pride about my crawling.

— Sorry, said Felipe. Other people's babies are boring. He put away the photo.

— No, they're not, I said.

I asked him lots of questions about Melissa, and he answered, and as he did so he smiled properly for the first time since we'd been taken hostage, talking about her.

— She knows so many words, he said, so many already. It is like a miracle. Not to say them – she can only say Dada. But when I read with her, I hold the book, and she turns the pages. And when I say, where is the ball, she points, she finds the ball. Where is the sun, where is the cat, the same. She is clever, not like me. She will go far in life.

He turned away from me for a moment, did something with his hands, with his eyes.

— I – I started to say, but then I closed my mouth and just put my hand on his shoulder.

He turned to me and smiled, and, for just a second, I understood a bit of what Dad must have felt when I said I was going to work in a bar. I wanted to think that he would be embarrassed if I did that. But what if he really did just want me to do what would make me happy? For a moment, I felt like there was a violin in my hands, felt the weight and smoothness of it, and the waves lapping against the hull were suddenly in counterpoint, were suddenly playing Bach.

I shook my head slightly to dislodge these thoughts. The air was strained, so I cracked my knuckles.

— She
will
go far, I said to Felipe. And you will be there to see her do it. Besides, you've gone far yourself.

— I'm a cook, he said.

I held his eyes, winked.

— A cook in
Somalia
, I said.

Felipe laughed.

— Yes, he said. It is a long way to have come.

We were looking down at the sea by the diving platform, when one of the younger pirates came over. My guts clenched, thinking something was wrong. But he sort of shyly sidled closer to us and pointed to the box in which the diving stuff was stored, with the masks and snorkels, too.

— Can I lend? he asked. He pointed to a snorkel.

— You want to borrow that? I mimed swimming. You want to swim with it?

— Please, he said. He sounded very young. He had a thin covering of stubble, dark eyes. He was quite handsome, actually.

— You like snorkelling? asked Felipe, sounding surprised.

— Yes. But we don't have . . . He pointed to the snorkel again. These.