Close to the Wind

by Jon Walter

  Malik swung his legs to the floor. ‘Where’s my cat?’ he called out, and he immediately spotted Alex on his hands and knees, reaching under a bed in the middle of the room. ‘Alex?’ Malik stood up.

  The boy swung round, the paperclip ball in his hand. ‘We were only playing.’

  Booty stuck his head out from under the bed and sniffed the floor. Malik came across and picked him up. ‘You can’t just take him,’ he said coldly.

  ‘I didn’t. He came to me.’

  ‘Oh yeah? How did he untie himself?’

  Alex had patches of red on his knees where the floor had scraped his skin. He shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’

  Malik took the cat back to his bunk, where he noticed that Oskar’s bed was already empty. Alex followed close behind him and picked up the empty tin plate from the floor under the bed. ‘I could go and ask for food.’

  Malik nodded. ‘That would be good.’ Then he added, ‘Thank you.’

  Malik took Booty to the bathroom and tied him to the leg of the trough as he washed and brushed his teeth. The men close to him scratched under the cat’s chin and asked Malik questions about how old he was and how long he’d owned him.

  When he returned to the dormitory, Alex was there with a fresh plate of food. He put it down in the corner and they stood at a distance watching Booty eat.

  ‘What did you think had happened to him?’ asked Alex.

  ‘I don’t know. Anything could have happened. I thought he’d disappeared.’

  ‘There’s nowhere for him to go,’ Alex said. ‘Anyway, he couldn’t just disappear.’

  Malik took a coin from his pocket. ‘Watch this.’ He flourished the coin in front of Alex’s face, held it up between his thumb and forefinger then moved his other hand across it. When he opened the hand with the coin, it had disappeared.

  Alex was open-mouthed.

  ‘He’s got it in his pants.’ Steffan appeared from nowhere. ‘I saw him do it. He had it in his other hand.’

  ‘Thanks a lot,’ said Malik, and he retrieved the coin from his underpants.

  Steffan said, ‘Come on, Oskar wants us up on deck now. He said we should have started work ages ago.’

  The two of them went upstairs into the early morning sun. The sea was calm but Malik could taste salt in the air. They found Oskar crouching on the public deck with a stiff bristled brush and a duster. He had written the word SHOESHINE on a piece of cardboard and propped it up on a footstool in front of him. ‘You’re late,’ he said. ‘I’ve been here for over an hour. If you want to work for me you need to be on time.’

  Steffan looked across the empty deck. ‘Have you had any takers?’

  ‘I’ve had one, a fella from first-class.’

  Malik turned over the coin in his pocket. ‘What do you charge?’

  ‘Ten.’

  ‘Maybe it’s too much.’

  A man came up the stairs and walked out on deck. ‘Shoeshine?’ Oskar shouted at him, but he shook his head and walked the other way. Oskar stood up and stretched. ‘It’ll get busier. People will come up for breakfast soon. I’ve got a spare brush and another tin of polish. You should set up either end of the ship. I’ll come and check on you in an hour.’ He left them to get on with it.

  Steffan blew his nose. ‘Oskar’s doing it all wrong.’ He picked up the pen and altered the sign to read ORPHANAGE SHOESHINE. ‘That’ll get the sympathy vote,’ he assured Malik. ‘I’ve done this sort of thing before. People can’t resist an orphan who’s willing to work hard. If you sit on the floor with your cat, we’ll get the pet-lovers too.’

  Malik sat down on the deck.

  Steffan took hold of the brush, put a foot up on the stool and began to clean the mud off his own shoes. ‘No one uses a shoeshine when the vendor’s got dirty feet.’ He looked at Malik’s wellingtons. ‘Are they all you’ve got?’ Malik nodded. ‘Didn’t you get something better at your orphanage?’

  ‘I wasn’t at an orphanage. I’m not an orphan. My mama is back in the town with my grandad.’

  Steffan smiled. ‘Sure. I understand.’

  Malik felt uneasy. He put his hand out for the brush. ‘I’ll do your shoes.’ He put polish on the tip of the brush and dabbed it on the scuffed shoe.

  Steffan said, ‘I went through the same thing.’

  ‘Went through what?’

  ‘Denial. It’s a phase you go through. I’ve seen it with loads of the children who arrive at the orphanage. It helps to believe your parents aren’t really dead. It’s all about hope.’

  Malik felt a surge of resentment. He wasn’t going to listen to this. He said, ‘Mama’s not dead and I’m not making it up. As soon as we get off the ship, I’m coming back to look for her.’

  ‘Of course you are.’

  ‘I will!’

  A man paused in front of them and looked down at his feet. He said, ‘I’ll get some money and come straight back.’

  Steffan changed feet on the stool. ‘Look, I don’t mean to be a smart ass. It’s just that I know how it works. Anyway, I think it’s good to have a goal to aim for. And you’ll need money because it’s expensive to travel on a ship like this. Just don’t leave it too long because you’ll forget what they look like.’

  Malik stopped cleaning Steffan’s shoes. ‘I don’t believe that.’

  Steffan nodded at the cloth. ‘You need to buff them with that to make them shine. That’s how it’s done.’ Then he added, ‘Of course, you’re older than I was. My parents died when I was six, so maybe it won’t be the same for you.’

  Malik picked up the cloth and polished Steffan’s toes. ‘Was it soldiers?’

  ‘Course not. Not back then. It was a car crash – I was in the car with them, and I came straight to the orphanage from the hospital. I even missed the funeral. At first I knew they were dead because I felt so bad that it had to be the only possible reason but then, once the pain wore off, I began to think it was all a trick, you know, that they might still be alive. I thought they must have been kidnapped and held hostage. I spent a long time thinking everyone was lying to me. Then after about three years I forgot their faces. I just woke up one day and realized I couldn’t remember how they looked, and that’s when I had to admit that it must be true. I mean, if I couldn’t even remember their faces, then they had to be dead, right? And they weren’t coming back.’

  Malik’s mouth was dry. ‘I won’t ever forget,’ he said quietly.

  ‘It helps if you have a photo. Do you have a photo?’

  Malik shook his head. There had been a small, framed picture of Mama by the side of his bed at home, but Papa hadn’t thought to bring it when they had packed the rucksack with useful things for the journey.

  Malik swallowed hard. ‘What about Oskar? He wouldn’t talk to me about his parents. Does he think they’re still alive too?’

  Steffan looked down at his shoes. ‘They all do. That little kid Alex in the bunk next to yours, he thinks his mum is a secret agent who can’t reveal her identity until she’s completed her mission. Oskar’s different because he’s new. He’s still in the painful stage. The soldiers shot his mum and dad in front of him, so if you think he’s mad now, you should have seen him when they brought him to the orphanage. He’ll still go through it, though. Everyone does. He’ll start thinking they weren’t really dead, that no one checked them and they crawled away to a doctor and got help. Something like that. But he’s got to get through the pain first. He’ll need me for that.’

  Malik felt his heart as a heavy weight again, the same as he had in the purser’s office. ‘What if Miss Price puts you with different families? How will you help him then?’

  ‘She won’t.’ Steffan pushed out his chin. ‘She already knows it’s both of us or nothing. If we can’t stay together, we’ll run away.’

  The man came back and paid for a shine with loose change. Steffan took the money while Malik put the passenger’s feet up on the stool and scrubbed till his arm ached.

  After the first customer, there wa
s a steady stream of takers as the deck got busier. Malik kept a lookout for Angelo Vex but he never saw him. He listened to snatches of conversation as he cleaned the shoes and he noticed a change from the day before – people were being friendly and telling each other where they were from or where they hoped to end up once they were off the ship. People were more relaxed than yesterday. Perhaps it was because they wore clean clothes. They certainly looked better than they had at the port, with the men freshly shaved and the women wearing lipstick or pieces of jewellery. They took photographs from their wallets and handed them around in the hope that they might find some connection to each other. Husbands introduced their wives and children to others, only to be told they’d already met that morning, in the queue for the canteen or using the bathroom.

  ‘Where’s Oskar got to?’ asked Malik after they’d been working for over an hour.

  Steffan handed out some change to a waiting man. ‘I don’t know. He’ll be around.’

  ‘And how much did he say he’d pay us?’ joked Malik. ‘I don’t remember him saying.’ They both laughed.

  When Oskar did reappear, he had the purser with him and they carried a box of polished wooden discs and a set of sticks. They set them down on the deck. ‘It’s called shuffleboard,’ said the purser. He pointed to a set of white lines on the opposite side of the deck. ‘It’s actually quite skilful. See those boxes over there? It’s basically curling. Well, more like crown green bowls, really. You use the stick to push the disc into the boxes with the most points. You play it in teams.’

  Oskar emptied the discs out at their feet.

  ‘What about the shoeshine?’ asked Steffan. ‘We were just getting going.’

  ‘Never mind with that,’ Oskar told them. ‘This is loads better.’ He stood up on the railings and shouted, ‘Clear the space, please, ladies and gentlemen. Shuffleboard match about to commence. Come and try your luck.’

  The purser showed them how it was done, by sending a puck into the box marked with a ten, and then they each took a turn. Other passengers joined in, and once there was sufficient interest Oskar organized a competition, the Samaritan Cup, with teams of four people. Each team paid a fee to enter and Oskar announced a small cash prize, then drew up a schedule of matches to be played, allowing time for the competition to be completed before the ship arrived the day after next.

  The purser told them there was also a table-tennis table that could be put up in the viewing lounge and there was a game of quoits in the same room.

  Oskar brought them all together. ‘Right, I need referees for the matches to make sure there’s fair play and to record results. We’re also taking bets. Odds of up to four to one, but nothing more. If you’re not sure we can cover the bets come and find me before you write out a slip.’

  ‘I don’t understand how it works,’ said Malik.

  ‘Right. You better stay here with me till you learn. Steffan, you take the other room. You all right with that?’ Steffan nodded. ‘Good. I’ll be up to see how it’s going in a while.’

  Malik refereed the first game, which involved standing beside the boxes and shouting out the score of each new disc. He also had to keep a running total so that everyone knew which team was winning.

  The passengers began to enjoy themselves and behave as if the voyage was a brief holiday. ‘We may as well if we’re here, mightn’t we?’ They cleared the deck of washing lines and stood in the sunshine, watching the games and applauding the winners.

  The purser came round the deck and he saw Malik and put a hand to his shoulder. ‘How’s that cat?’ he asked. ‘Keeping out of trouble?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Malik tugged the string on his wrist to show that Booty was safely tied to him.

  When the last of the first-class passengers had left the canteen, they went for their own late breakfast. Oskar stayed out on deck, saying he had to work through, but Malik went with Steffan and they sat by the window to eat. He saw the Vex children come down the stairs from the upper deck, and when he returned to Oskar Malik noticed the family name listed to play a game of shuffleboard that afternoon. His heart sank. He looked around to see if they were close, and although he couldn’t see them it didn’t make him feel any better. He never wanted to see that man again.

  ‘I’m going back to the dorm,’ he told Oskar.

  ‘But you can’t. You’re my right-hand man.’

  Malik shook his head. ‘I quit. I’m sorry.’

  ‘You won’t get paid.’

  ‘I don’t mind,’ Malik said. Then he added, ‘I’ll ask some of the other boys to come up and help.’

  By mid-afternoon, Oskar had half the kids in the dormitory running the games for him and he came to find Malik. ‘You have to come with me, I need you to do me a favour.’

  ‘I don’t want to work for you.’

  ‘This isn’t work. This is easy.’ Oskar took hold of Malik’s arm and pulled him up out of his bunk. He scooped up Booty and held him under his arm. ‘I need one of your candles too. Don’t worry, I’ll pay you for it.’

  ‘What do you want it for?’ asked Malik.

  ‘You’ll see. Come on.’

  Malik followed Oskar along the passage. They climbed the scaffold staircase and came up to the lower deck. Oskar walked fast, dodging past the legs of the passengers on the benches and avoiding a crowd that had gathered to watch a game of shuffleboard. He headed for the walkway that ran alongside a double row of six lifeboats, and stopped when he reached them. He loitered at the second boat.

  ‘What are we doing here?’ complained Malik.

  Oskar smiled at a passenger walking past, then casually leaned his arm on the top edge of the boat and flicked his eyes to the orange canvas cover, and Malik saw a metre of cord hanging loose where it had been untied.

  ‘When I lift up the canvas, you dive in.’ Oskar knocked three times on the side of the lifeboat. ‘I’ll hand Booty through and follow you in.’ He took the loose edge of the cover in his fist and checked to make sure no one on the ship had taken an interest in them, then he lifted it high enough for Malik to fit through. ‘Go on,’ he ordered. ‘Go.’

  Malik grabbed the rim of the boat and jumped up, grappling with his legs till he was under the gap in the canvas and tumbling down into the darkness of the boat. He stopped almost immediately, the back of his head banging against the wood hard enough that it hurt. It was pitch-dark and the air was heavy with the smell of cigarette smoke. He tried to sit up as another leg touched his own and somebody sniggered with excitement. He heard Steffan whisper, ‘Shhh …’

  A box of light opened above his head. Malik looked up and there was Booty, a hand under his stomach, his feet kicking madly. Malik took hold of his cat and brought him down into the darkness. There was another snigger from inside the boat and Malik squinted, trying to see who was in there with him. He put a hand out behind him, felt an empty space and shuffled backwards on his bottom, then the box of light reappeared and Oskar suddenly came crashing down, his heel catching Malik’s knee as he fell into the spot where Malik had sat only a moment before. Someone giggled again.

  ‘Did you get the candle?’ Malik didn’t recognize the voice but he guessed it belonged to an older boy.

  ‘Hang on,’ said Oskar. He moved himself off Malik’s leg.

  There was the rattle of a matchbox, then the scratch and flare of a flame and Malik smelled phosphorus. He saw a pair of hands cupped around the wick, and when they withdrew he saw Oskar crouched less than a metre away, holding the candle in his fingers. Steffan sat hunched in the other end of the lifeboat, and either side of him were the sons of Angelo Vex, sitting in their expensive clothes, their legs folded, their hair parted crisply to one side and their black shoes shining in the candlelight.

  The older boy held the crushed stub of a cigarette in his fingers as though it were still alight. Oskar nodded toward him. ‘Malik, I’d like you to meet Marcos. You’ll like him – he’s rich.’

  The older boy laughed at that. He nodded at Malik, but his
younger brother didn’t wait for an introduction.

  ‘I’m Sonny.’ The boy stretched out a green velvet arm, his fingers eager to take Malik’s hand, and he shuffled across the bottom of the boat with his eyes stuck on Booty.

  Oskar was in the way. He leaned back so that Sonny could get to Malik. ‘He’s seen you with the cat,’ he explained. ‘He’s desperate to play with him, so I said he could meet you.’

  Malik held Booty tight to his chest with both hands. ‘He’s mine!’ he said loudly. ‘He can’t have him.’

  Oskar put a finger to his lips. ‘Keep it down,’ he hissed. ‘Someone will hear you.’

  Sonny reached across Oskar with an outstretched arm, trying to touch Booty’s head, but Malik shifted backward till his spine nudged the end of the boat. ‘Don’t do that,’ he said. ‘I don’t like it.’

  Oskar bent toward him. ‘It’s not a problem, Malik. Sonny is just like all the other little kids. He just wants to share.’ Oskar put a hand on Malik’s leg and smiled. ‘He can’t resist a cute cat.’

  Malik panicked. He tried to stand but his head hit the canvas and he buckled over, tipping forward towards the boy till Oskar caught his shoulder and steadied him. ‘Easy,’ he said. ‘Where you going?’

  Malik found it hard to breathe. He pushed at the canvas above his head. ‘How do you get out of here, Oskar? Let me out. I don’t like it.’ His feet were unsteady in the bottom of the boat and he fell against the side, grazing his shoulder on the wooden planks. When he tried to get up, he stumbled again and trod on Sonny’s finger.

  The boy screamed like a peacock.

  ‘Hey!’ cried Marcos. He lunged forward and took hold of his brother’s arm, pulling Sonny out of the way and pushing Malik backwards into the end of the boat. ‘Be careful!’

  Malik gripped Booty tightly to his chest. He rose up on one knee and pushed a hand against the canvas. ‘I’ll shout for help if you don’t let me out …’ He saw the box of light appear and he pushed Booty past the canvas edge and let him dangle outside the boat before he dropped him. There was a howl from one of the boys as Malik kicked out with a foot, trying to get a hold on the edge of the rim, and then he was up and out into the air, dragging himself away from the canvas and dropping onto the deck in a pile, hurting his hip and elbow when he landed.