Girl. Boy. Sea. Page 11

  In the lighthouse I found a bag of oats, some more coconuts and a few tins of food. And – this made my heart sing – a jar of honey. All stuff Stephan had carried off his boat before it sank, just like I had. There were no flares. That was just one more lie.

  When we were done I made porridge with oats and coconut milk and water in a tin. I used the knife blade to scoop in the dripping honey. It tasted like gold from heaven.

  We ate it quickly, watching the flames and listening to the wind howling.

  We had food, shelter, aman and a fire. And no Stephan to rule our lives. But there was an empty space and silence in the hut. Every time I went outside, I looked to the north and had to force myself not to walk up there and look, again, into the water. I told myself I wouldn’t fish up there. There were sharks, and at least one was massive. Not a shadow or my mind playing tricks. We’d seen what we’d seen.

  Stephan was dead. But he was everywhere and nowhere. And I felt guilty. Not even because of what had happened. But because we were gulls stealing from another bird’s nest.

  Gull had no such worries. He strutted round the hut, pecking in the dirt, making it his home too, before settling in the corner.

  We covered the gap in the wall with the tarpaulin as best we could, wedging it into cracks and weighing it down with stones. We took the woodpiles into the hut away from the wind.

  When I gathered coconuts, more fell, landing with deadening thuds. I imagined what it’d be like if one fell on my head.

  We had a supply of food that would last us for days.

  We double-checked the boat, dragging it to higher ground and turning it upside down.

  We had been busy all day, and not just because of the storm. We’d been busy to avoid talking about what had happened, to avoid even thinking about it.

  Sitting quietly, waiting for the storm, we needed something to talk about, to fill the time.

  ‘Can you tell me about your precious stones?’ I asked. ‘Can you tell me your story?’

  And so she did.

  *

  ‘On the plains and in the towns, there is war. It is not so strange. There have been many wars, many years. There are robbers, smugglers, and sometimes war with one tribe with another. As I say, this is not new. But this war, now, it is bigger.

  ‘A warlord has come with his army. He cuts through the land like a sword in wheat. They destroy so much. No one knows where they will appear, or what things they will do. There is no line between one army and another. It is a war of belief and sometimes even in one village there is this war, family against family. This army travels. They are quick. They take villages, but they can disappear too, vanish in the hills. They kill many men. They take some women for slaves. This is true for all people, but it is more true for tribes of the Amazigh. This war is like a plague that moves from town to village to field to the hills.

  ‘My tribe is nomad. But in this time not all the year. There is a place, a village we live, with other Amazigh tribe. But some months in year we travel. We know a place high in the desert hills. It is a place of the old life, almost forgotten, but we go there now in the time of war. There is little in this place, only rock and a few trees. They say no people can live here. But…’ Aya wagged a finger in my face. ‘The Amazigh, we live in this place. There are argan trees. There is food for the goats, and the nut, we use for oil. There are rabbits we hunt. We have tents, warm in the freezing night and cool in the burning day. Milk from goats. We trade meat for vegetables.

  ‘We believe in this place we are safe. The army they can also live in the hills, but we travel high and more high until there is no road, only paths. We make a camp and we stay there some weeks.

  ‘One day, I was with my cousin Sakkina. She is thirteen years old. We take our chickens on the hill. We love this work, we have many hours to do so little, only look after the chickens so we do not lose them and that no foxes will come. We play games for some hours, then we see the men, below in the camp. They wear black. They carry guns. They walk into our camp. Five men, maybe six. I do not know how they find us. There is no fighting, no shouting. It is like they are visitors.

  ‘I see our men talk with them. My uncle. I see him offer they sit by fire. He offers them tea. It is our way, even for men with guns.

  ‘But the men do not sit. I think maybe they only talk and they go, or maybe they want that we give them food. But there is much talk with my uncle and then the talk is loud. One man he takes his gun and bang, bang!’ Aya acted firing a gun.

  ‘My people are afraid. My uncle talks with the men and he is trying to make peace with them. Sakkina say, “No!” She wants to run to her father, but I hold her arms. I put my hand over her mouth because she wants to shout. She is brave, Sakkina. But these men they can do anything. I know the stories, so I am afraid for Sakkina and also for myself, my uncle and all our people.

  ‘The men they look in our tents. But we have little. Our tribe is not so poor, but we are not rich, and we do not travel with so much. But the money we have, we hide in jewels in necklace and rings for wedding and other times.

  ‘These men say they are holy warriors. But I think most are criminal. I think they want some food, silver or gold, our jewels.

  ‘I hear Uncle say our money is far away with other people of our tribe, but the men put the gun in his face, and say what we have we must give. So all our men have to find the jewels. The men take. They use knife like we use shell to take mussel from shell, and they take all the jewels.

  ‘I see all this, and Sakkina too. And we are very angry. But we want now they will leave. But it is not only money they want. Amazigh, it means free people. I think this is what they want, our freedom. This is what they hate. We sing, we dance, we wear clothes with colour and jewels and gold, we have music. From the River Nile to the sea in the west. We do not belong to one country, we do not live only in one country. We also have many old beliefs and many customs. And these warriors do not like this.

  ‘They take people like herd of goats, altogether inside a circle. I plan to hide with Sakkina. I plan that we wait, and travel after, maybe find a village. But one man hit Uncle with his gun, and Sakkina shouts and runs. Then they see us.’

  Aya stopped, frowning, as though finding the words or memories was a barrier she had to break through.

  ‘So I must follow. I must be with my people. These men have eyes empty like the sky. And I see this and I know they can kill. We can do anything or nothing and they will kill. With no reason.

  ‘They take us down the hill, to the roads, to the plains, to the town. They say we must live in this place. It is a new life. And so many rules.

  ‘We live this way some weeks. In this time I see two men killed. Two, before my eyes.

  ‘Then one man comes through the town with more of this army. He is very important this man. He looks the same as others. Same eyes, same black clothes. But the men do all he say, they watch him like dogs who will do all to win the love of their master.

  ‘He say to take some peoples. I think it is only men. But… They call all the older girls and the younger womens, and they look us like goats at market.

  ‘They take three. One is Sakkina.

  ‘I am afraid for her and she is young. Uncle argues but everyone is knowing you do not argue with these men. But I say to take me. I have no mother, no father, and she is only a child. The men laugh, they think I am not so good because sometime I do not do all they want. But the whole village is angry and, even though they are afraid, they argue with these men.

  ‘They can do what they want but they know it will be more easy to keep peace with village if they do not take Sakkina. And this man look to me, and he say yes.

  ‘This man is a leader. He is clever, he knows this is right. And so I go with them. To the sea. I do not know what plan they have. But there, there are boats and these boats go to Europe.’

  ‘You tricked them, didn’t you?’ I said.

  Aya’s eyes flamed.

  ‘They take from my p
eople. I take them back. They hide us in a house. The men come and go all day. I look from the window and I see them talk with men and with boys and one is Stephan. We stay. In the evening I make them food, I say I can do this. And I know one man he has the jewels. And the key for the door. I see him look at the jewels. And I serve them drink and give him more, and more. They eat a lot of food.

  ‘When he is asleep, I am awake. I wait many hours. I try to be brave. In the night I stand, and I go to the man. I am more afraid then. If he wakes, I am dead. But I am more afraid for what will happen if I stay with these men.

  ‘I plan to take the key. Only the key. But in his same pocket is also the jewels. And they belong to my people.

  ‘I do not know then what is right and what is wrong.

  ‘So I take them. They think we will not steal or run from them. If we do, they will find. But I have no fear in my heart and I take. The other women, one is awake. I wave to her, but she shakes her head. She is too afraid to run. I am too afraid to stay.

  ‘I open the door, slow, so, so slow. Then I run! They follow, and I hide, with the rubbish. One whole day. In the evening, a woman comes. I say I will leave, but she says there is only desert and the men have been searching and there is no place to hide. If I stay they will find. If I run to the desert they will find. But she say maybe I can go on boat, if I have money. So I give her one jewel and beg she will help me. Her brother, he is taking one boat next morning. The men will not believe I will go on a boat, they believe I want to go home. So she helps me.

  ‘With one stone I buy to go on the boat. And I go, before the men find me.

  ‘When Stephan see the diamonds, then he knows I am this girl.’

  *

  The storm hit in the night. Rain, wind, lightning.

  We’d been through it before; me in a rowboat, Aya clinging to an oil drum. So we could handle this, dry and warm, huddled under the cloak-blanket.

  We whooped when it thundered. Aya shrieked as if she was on a rollercoaster.

  Rain drummed the roof and found holes and gaps, dripping down on us. We shifted around so it hit the ground, splashing on the fire and making it sizzle.

  We didn’t care.

  In the early hours we tried to sleep. I lay behind Aya and held the blanket over us.

  The wind came in harder then, seeking gaps in the wall, kicking at the flames, whizzing sparks into the air. I couldn’t sleep. I had to make sure our bed of branches and seaweed didn’t catch fire. But I dozed and felt weirdly, totally calm. Safe.

  *

  In the early hours of the morning it started properly. Everything before that had just been a warning.

  Lightning turned the room to day for flashing seconds. Thunder shook the earth. Wind buffeted the hut, blowing in shock gusts.

  Aya woke.

  The wind pushed the tarpaulin aside and flew in, blowing the fire across the floor. Then the tarpaulin – our door – ripped from the wall, flapping wildly. I leaped up to secure it, but it flew from my grasp and into the air.

  Gull waddled out and flew off.

  Sheets of white light every few seconds. Cracks in the world.

  Then the water came.

  I went and looked outside, the wind almost knocking me over. In a blaze of white I saw walls of water, battering the cliff and flooding over the land.

  A wave rushed in; a flood. The sea was rising.

  ‘Get the tins!’ I shouted. ‘Grab everything!’

  We stumbled, fumbled, finding the tins and the knife and stuffing all we had into the cloak.

  Outside the wind was so violent we could barely stand. We put our heads into it. I braced my legs, anchoring myself to the earth.

  ‘Lighthouse!’ Aya yelled.

  ‘No! If the hut fills, so will the lighthouse… We have to go to the cave.’

  We made our way, heads down, step by step. When a vicious gust hit, we couldn’t walk, only hold onto each other, desperately.

  ‘The boat!’ she shouted. ‘We must make it safe.’

  I’d thought it was. High and dry. But now nothing was safe.

  We used the lightning to find our way. And what we saw terrified me. Great sheets of water filling the horizon. Wind tugging at the boat and scraping it along the rock to the sea. We got to it just before the sea’s fingers claimed it.

  We dragged and pulled, hoisting it higher and higher. When we got it as far as we could we wedged it behind a rock, turned it over and tied the bow rope to a large stone. We hid the barrel and shell under it too, groping and fumbling to secure the upturned hull, making sure the wind couldn’t get under it.

  Even then the wind tugged and pushed at it.

  ‘We can’t leave it!’ I shouted. But as if it heard us, the wind raged. Another bolt of lightning and thunder ripped across the sky. Aya squatted low to the ground, just to stop herself being blown away.

  I saw a tree flying through the sky. Flying! The storm was showing us what it could do.

  ‘The cave!’ Aya shouted. ‘We must go.’

  When the wind lessened a fraction, we stumbled on, each an anchor for the other.

  I don’t know how we found the beach, how we climbed down the rocks, how we made our way through the trees, bending and leaning in the gale, wading, ankle- then knee-deep in mud. A tree snapped clean with an almighty crack as we clambered up the rock and through the entrance to the cave. I was thankful it was so high from the ground.

  We crawled in, further in, and further still. And then dropping the cloak by the pool, we lay down, our panting and sighs echoing around us. Aya whimpered with fear and shock.

  To the left of the pool was a shelf of rock. I crawled up it, pulling Aya behind me. It was dry. We lay there.

  ‘I th… thi… think maybe we… die,’ Aya breathed through chattering teeth.

  ‘Not now, not now, we’re okay, we’re okay.’ But I was shaking too, hardly able to force words out. ‘We’re okay, we’re okay.’ And I thought: Will the sea reach us here? I didn’t know.

  Aya’s dress was soaked and cold. She shivered violently.

  We reached out in the dark and held each other, till we were warmer, and we slept.

  viii

  We woke late in the morning.

  The storm had gone. The entrance to the cave was a window to a new world.

  Many of the trees had broken, some had vanished; torn from the earth and sand, leaving gaping holes filled with roots.

  Coconuts were scattered across the ground.

  The boat had moved. From wind or water I didn’t know. By some miracle, it had been dragged inland. There were cracks in the hull.

  I cried and I kicked the boat. Because I didn’t know how we’d fix it. Not that I was keen to go out in it, now we had seen sharks.

  The hut, our home, was wrecked. The floor was a soaked mess of ash, seaweed and branches. The shelves had gone. The gap in the entrance was wider, with stones from the walls scattered in the dirt.

  I walked to the spit. The tide was out and the rocks exposed. There were thousands of shells and dead fish. Gull was down there with the other birds, stuffing themselves. How they had survived the storm I didn’t know.

  *

  Days passed.

  Life got back to normal. Our normal.

  We found the tarpaulin wedged in rocks by the shore. We took leaves and branches of the fallen trees and made new beds.

  We piled coconuts and wood and using sun and the broken bottle got a new fire going. We had to wait two days for enough sun for that, and had to eat raw fish.

  The heat had gone, eaten up by the storm. It was still warm, but there was a gentle wind, clouds and even the occasional shower. We didn’t know if this was an aftermath of the storm, or the start of a changing season.

  *

  A lot had changed between us too.

  That night in the cave we’d been closer than ever. Because we were scared. Because we believed we could die. Maybe we’d been too close. Being together, holding tight, shaking as lightn
ing broke the world. And maybe being like that wasn’t right for Aya. Or maybe it was what had happened with Stephan. She never said anything about it. I’d thought the night in the storm would bring us together, but the truth is we never got that close again. She wouldn’t let me. She’d built new walls between us and they were stronger.

  We weren’t starving, but we were still hungry. We had food, but we didn’t have much honey, and when the oats were gone we’d have no carbs to eat apart from mashed-up seaweed.

  We’d taken the island from Stephan. We thought we’d mastered the land and the sea. We thought we could survive.

  And day by day, we could.

  But for how long?

  ix

  It was about a week after the storm that Aya said it. Something I’d thought but hadn’t spoken out loud. Because it was crazy.

  We were in the hut. Aya ate her supper of fish slowly.

  ‘Are you okay?’ I said. ‘You’ve been… I dunno, kind of quiet.’

  She licked her fingers clean.

  ‘Bill, I tell you… something.’

  ‘Go on.’

  She took her time, sucking her cheek and looking at the flames.

  ‘We must leave this place.’

  ‘Why, because it’s not safe in a storm? And go where? The cave? It’s damp in there. The lighthouse has no proper roof. We can’t build anything stronger than this.’

  ‘We must leave. Go back to the world.’

  I put my bowl down.

  ‘Aya. There’s been no plane, no boat. But if there are people out there… they’ll come here. Eventually. Maybe Stephan’s people. Maybe they use this island. Maybe that’s why his boat was near here when it went down.’

  ‘I do not believe anyone will come. We must go.’

  ‘You saw what happened in that storm. And that, in a boat? I know where I’d rather be. Anyway, the boat’s got cracks in it.’

  ‘We must go.’

  ‘It’s too risky. We could die.’

  ‘We must try.’

  ‘It’s safe here.’