Red Leaves

by Sita Brahmachari

  Iona shrugged. ‘Well, if you take on Red, you’ll have to take me too.’ And without waiting for an invitation she walked all the way to the bottom of the slope and followed her dog inside the shelter.

  Zak and Aisha hovered outside, wondering what to do about the homeless girl. Zak sat down while Aisha walked around aimlessly. Iona’s anger was infectious, and Aisha felt the outrage rise up in her. How dare she arrive like this and take over my shelter? As soon as she’d thought it Aisha checked herself. Since when had it become hers? She was starting to sound like one of those people who went on about migrants invading – they always sounded so simple to Aisha, like toddlers saying, ‘I was here first, it’s mine, you can’t come in.’ When she heard people talking like this on the radio or TV, or even in earshot of her in the street, she wanted to scream at them, ‘Do you think humans just leave their homes for no reason?’ Now here she was starting to think just like them. She liked Zak, found him easy to talk to, so he was allowed in, but she didn’t like the look of Iona so she wanted her out. What does this make me? Aisha asked herself. She supposed that the shelter didn’t belong to anyone apart from the people who had once built it, and why had it been built anyway? Because the world had been at war. It’s a shelter, Aisha told herself. Surely nobody should be denied shelter. Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of one of the blue-backed birds walking head first and fearless down the trunk of the pine. Aisha took a deep breath and stood tall, preparing herself to face Iona. She didn’t want a fight, but it didn’t feel right that this girl should be able to stride in and take over either.

  ‘Let’s go in,’ she said to Zak, bending her head to walk inside. Zak followed. The two of them sat down on the bench on one side, facing Iona, who stood up as they came in and remained standing. The dog lay on the floor between the three of them as if unwilling to take sides.

  ‘Let the bombs rain down!’ Iona said, twirling around to take in the surroundings of the air-raid shelter. Then she started rummaging in her backpack. She took out a pasty and began to eat it greedily. ‘I’m starving!’ she said.

  Aisha was surprised at how invaded she felt. Zak’s appearance in the shelter had been different because his confused state had meant that she’d been able to take charge. She understood how disorientated he was and had felt a sort of sisterly wish to protect him. And she knew what it was like for a parent to be missing too. Even though she guessed that they were about the same age, Zak seemed younger to her. But then she often felt this about her peers. Zak didn’t feel like a threat to her at all. But this homeless girl was different.

  Aisha glared at Iona as she stuffed in another mouthful of pasty, and felt her anger rise. ‘You’re not starving!’ she said, surprised by the strength of her own conviction. ‘You should see what starving really is. It makes you sick just to look at it: swollen empty bellies, hungry eyes, lips dry as the desert.’ Aisha was determined to stand up to this girl – if there was one thing she knew how to do, it was face off a bully. The expression in Iona’s eyes hardened.

  ‘You don’t know anything about me! I’ve been so hungry I’ve just wanted to curl up on the street and never wake up.’

  ‘Well, you can’t eat that food in here! It’s haram and the rats will come,’ Aisha warned.

  ‘And how do you know I’m not a rat! A big sewer rat. I’ll do whatever I want! What’s haram when it’s at home anyway? Does no one talk any sense in this wood? You sound just like Elder!’ Iona shook her head and continued eating.

  Zak wondered how Iona had become so hard and embittered.

  ‘Where are you from then?’ the girl asked Aisha.

  ‘I don’t see what business it is of yours,’ Zak jumped in.

  ‘You mean which country?’ Aisha spoke directly to Iona, ignoring Zak’s interruption. She had been interrogated many times and in many ways since she’d arrived.

  ‘You have a voice of your own then,’ Iona said, sneering at Aisha.

  ‘Somalia.’ Aisha spoke the word with dignity and pride, as if she was talking about a person that she loved.

  ‘Refugee?’ Iona asked.

  Aisha nodded, closed her eyes and let her head rest back against the concrete wall. Conker jumped up beside her.

  ‘Aye, well, I suppose we’re all refugees here. Hey, Red!’ Iona half laughed as she peered around the air-raid shelter again.

  Zak watched as Aisha’s breathing slowed. Was she praying? Or perhaps she just couldn’t stand to talk to Iona for a second longer.

  He turned his attention to the homeless girl. If it was possible, he would have liked to stare her right out of the shelter.

  The girl grinned defiantly and stared back as if it was a game between them. Finally she broke the silence. ‘What’s up with her then?’ She pointed to Aisha, who was so still she hardly seemed to be breathing at all.

  ‘Why don’t you just leave her alone,’ Zak whispered. ‘She’s been through a lot.’

  ‘Haven’t we all! Join the club! I don’t know what you two are playing at in here, but you should go back home. I’ve seen that Indian woman out looking for you.’

  ‘Shalini.’ Her name came to Zak from somewhere deep inside and with it came an enveloping warmth of protection and an image of her in a pale blue dust-covered sari, standing at a front door surrounded by scaffolding. Perhaps it was the scaffolding that closed the circuit in his mind, clicking every memory firmly into place. He saw it all now, played out scene by scene. School, the boy Spite and Mr Slater . . . his outburst . . . going back to the new house . . . seeing Aisha and her friends in the wood, the cinnamon smell of their picnic food, and hunger rumbling in his belly . . . finding the name in the plasterwork . . . the photo of Edwin and Albert . . . the map . . . arguing with his dad on Skype, the report from his mum . . . waiting and waiting for her to come, the wall falling down . . . and Shalini standing there on the doorstep, clasping her hands and telling him that his mum was missing.

  ‘She’s Sri Lankan,’ Zak corrected Iona.

  ‘Think I care where she’s from?! All I know is that she’s looking for you and as for her—’

  ‘My name’s Aisha.’ She opened her eyes as she spoke, then turned to Zak and ignored Iona.

  There was no sign of sleep in those eyes, but Zak was glad that Aisha looked calm and strong now. She would need to be to deal with Iona’s barbed comments.

  ‘Well, Aisha, that woman Liliana is walking around as if someone’s pulled her heart out. You should think yourself lucky, both of you. At least you’ve got people out there who are searching for you, missing you, and never giving up. What have I got to keep me going? Except my temper and a dog that keeps leaving me.’ Iona laughed at her own grim state, grabbed the dog close and held her tight.

  ‘It’s true what you said before. I don’t know anything about you. But you don’t know anything about me either!’ Aisha replied calmly.

  Iona nodded slowly, as if she accepted that what Aisha said was true. Zak didn’t know why he was surprised to see Aisha fighting her own corner so capably. Perhaps it was the terrible story she had told him of her past that had made him feel that she would need protection. Now that he remembered his own reasons for running away, he began to feel that he should have been stronger. The day that he’d first seen Aisha in the woods returned to him clearly. How could you have a past like Aisha’s and still want to sing?

  Iona now turned her attention on Zak; her grey eyes like searchlights.

  ‘What happened to you anyway?’

  Zak did not reply but noticed the hardening lines forming around the girl’s mouth.

  ‘Don’t you look at me like that! I’d like to find you a mirror so you can see your own sorry face!’

  Iona had a right to be angry about the dog, but there was something in the way she spoke and behaved that gave Zak the impression that she was enjoying the power she held over them both.

  ‘No wonder that dog left you!’ Zak spat back at her, as he gathered an armful of dry wood that Aisha had
stacked inside the shelter. ‘I’m going to try to light a fire again.’

  ‘You do that!’

  Zak grimaced. He hated the fact that Iona’s accent reminded him so much of his mum’s.

  ‘Who d’you think you are – Tarzan? Man go make fire!’ she called after him.

  Zak breathed in a deep draught of cold air. Why did Iona have to turn up just as Aisha and he were getting to know each other? He felt grateful to Aisha for bringing him back to himself, and he wanted to talk more to her, find a way to help her in return, but there was no chance of that with this vicious girl around.

  He had expected Aisha to follow him out of the shelter. He didn’t like to leave her in there with Iona. Zak stood by the entrance and listened, but still not a word passed between the two girls. Perhaps Aisha was having her own protest, a kind of sit-in, refusing to be ousted by Iona. What could they be doing in there? Zak remembered how Aisha had closed her eyes when Iona had gone on the attack, as if she could turn her gaze in on herself. Maybe they had both fallen asleep. At least it was calm in there now. And the dog seemed settled enough.

  Zak built the fire he and Aisha had started stick by stick until it formed a pyramid, as his dad had taught him to once on a camping weekend. His memories poured out of him now, as if a floodgate had been opened: the look of pride on his dad’s face as Zak built and lit his first fire. He must have mixed it all up in his mind, the present and the past, but something Mr Slater had written on the board at school kept returning to him . . . Zak repeated the phrase as if grappling with the words might help him understand: ‘If the privilege of memory is pain, then the act of remembering is love.’

  ‘You know, Iona means blessed!’ He heard his mum’s voice in his head. ‘We could be in the Caribbean, not Scotland. How lucky are we to have weather like this every day for two weeks, I’d say we have been truly blessed!’ she said as they’d stood on the ferry-boat watching the white sands recede across the sparkling sea. ‘Sometimes I wonder whether I’ll ever move back home I tell you, I never feel as at peace as when I’m here.’

  ‘Do you really want to come back and live here?’ his dad asked his mum, taking her hand as they stepped off the ferry-boat on to the mainland.

  ‘Well! It’s not practical, is it, but you know what I mean! Don’t you sometimes feel that a tiny piece of your heart’s still in New York?’

  His dad nodded, held out his long arms and she walked into them. They kissed, and Lyndon and he groaned at the gross-out sight of them being all ‘lovey-dovey’.

  It was true that remembering even the happiest times was painful now, but it was better than the blanket of fog that had invaded his mind before. He took a deep breath and walked back inside the shelter to search for the matches. Aisha was sitting exactly as she had been before, her hands on her necklace. This time she really did seem to have fallen asleep. Iona’s bag was strewn open and chalks of every colour were laid out on the bench. Zak stared at what had once been a dull concrete wall. Iona was in the middle of creating the most amazing giant portrait of Elder with her wild, leaf-threaded crown of red hair.

  Iona glanced down at Aisha.

  ‘She nearly sent me to sleep too with her praying. There’s something to be said for it though. Calmed me down.’

  Zak looked closer at Iona’s artwork. ‘That’s just like Elder!’

  The girl had even managed to capture the texture of the ragged layers of the old woman’s clothes.

  She threw her arms in the air and released a ghoulish chant. ‘Come to me, my earthstar!’ she cackled.

  Zak’s breath caught and he jumped backwards.

  ‘Spooked you! But that’s not so difficult to do!’ Iona jeered at the shocked expression on his face.

  Red was immediately on her feet, alert for any sign of aggression between the two of them. There was a split second when Zak almost turned and stomped out of the shelter, but he decided that he wouldn’t give Iona the satisfaction. You don’t suit your name. There’s nothing blessed about you, he thought.

  ‘Spent the night with Elder, so I’ve got a picture of her in my head,’ Iona explained as she continued working.

  ‘I’ve only just managed to get away from her, and I’m not sure I want the old witch watching over me here too.’ Zak shook his head as if to free himself from thoughts of Elder. ‘Not that it looks like we’ve got much choice now.’

  Iona shrugged and carried on working, carefully sketching the petals and leaves in Elder’s hair. ‘And you think I’m hard-hearted!’

  ‘I didn’t say that!’

  ‘You didn’t need to. You and your girlfriend have got it written all over your faces.’

  ‘She’s not my girlfriend,’ Zak whispered.

  ‘Whatever!’

  Zak glanced down at Aisha’s sleeping form and was relieved that she hadn’t heard.

  He remembered now the sketch he’d tried to do of Aisha, and how bad it had been compared to Iona’s work. For some reason Aisha had stuck in his mind from the very first time he’d seen her. Was it possible that by focusing on someone strongly enough you could literally draw them to you? He had seen Iona too, and Elder in the wood. Why had they all come together in this place? He looked up at the giant image and shuddered as he remembered Elder forcing the bitter liquid into his mouth.

  ‘I bet old Elder half scared you to death.’ Iona laughed.

  ‘And she doesn’t frighten you?’

  ‘Only when I think I might end up like her,’ she sighed.

  ‘Think you will?’

  Iona set down her chalks and turned to Zak. ‘I’ll tell you what I know. You’re in here playing dens, and the people that love you are going out of their minds with worry.’

  ‘So why don’t you go home then?’ Zak asked.

  ‘Haven’t got one. I’ve not had one in years. You know the difference between you two and me?’

  Zak shook his head and kicked at the ground.

  ‘Perhaps you’ll not want to hear the truth. It’s not pretty. Nobody cares enough to look for me, not even my own mum, so now I’m just one of the great invisibles.’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘It’s something I’ve discovered. If you live on the street, you wear an invisibility cloak. You don’t know it at first, and you can’t understand how people don’t see you. Then you watch them and you see how they do it. It’s a kind of trick, with no magic in it. They have this way of disappearing you, dissolving you with their eyes. If you’re just sitting on the street, they can zone you out in a second.’

  ‘But I’ve seen you selling your magazine and people stopping,’ Zak said.

  Iona shrugged. ‘Sometimes I do all right, but even when you’ve got something to offer and they’ve got no excuse not to look at you, they can still make a split second decision whether to see you or not. I’ll tell you how it is.’ Iona sat down on the bench and faced Zak. ‘They see you a way off, swerve out to the side as if they’ve suddenly got an appointment with the kerb, and then something happens to their eyes, like they’ve switched off inside – glazed over.’ Iona searched Zak’s expression as if challenging him to look away. He didn’t. ‘Suddenly they’re passing you and looking off into the distance, like a white elephant’s suddenly appeared on the horizon. Then phew! They’re past! In the safe zone – I swear I’ve watched their shoulders relax, as if to say, Thank God I’m off the hook . . . – and those are the ones who at least know that they should care.’

  Iona gestured towards Aisha and sucked her teeth. ‘I wouldn’t have minded being fostered if I could have been with someone like her carer. Still, at least I’ve got Red back.’ Iona snuggled up to her dog. ‘I don’t know why, maybe it’s the way she looks up at you with those trusting, pleading eyes, but she makes folk stop for just long enough to dip their hand in their pocket.’ Iona leaned forward as if confiding in Zak. ‘How sad is this? I’ve tried to study her look to copy it – what do you think?’

  Iona peered up through her hair, softened
her mouth and tilted her head to one side coyly.

  That really is sad, Zak thought.

  When the expression on his face didn’t change, Iona laughed, a low, scathing laugh. ‘See! Told you, not a heart-melt in sight! These are the facts. I haven’t sold a single copy since she went missing.’ Iona gathered Red close to her in a hug. ‘You’re my lucky mascot, aren’t you, Red? My visibility cloak.’

  ‘Maybe if you didn’t look so . . .’

  ‘So what?’

  Zak hesitated. ‘Tough.’ He almost whispered the word, as if he thought it might come back to harpoon him.

  ‘Maybe I need to look tough!’ Iona said, sticking out her tongue to reveal her piercings, swishing her dreadlocks from side to side and opening her cat’s eyes wide so that she resembled a tribal mask.

  Aisha opened her own eyes just at this moment and looked alarmed, until Iona’s face returned to its normal sullen expression. Aisha’s gaze moved across to the wall, caught by the giant image of Elder looming over her.

  ‘You’re an artist?’ Aisha asked.

  ‘Maybe.’ Iona began adding texture to Elder’s hair. ‘I’m sorry I was so angry with you,’ she mumbled under her breath, without turning around.

  ‘I was angry with you too,’ Aisha admitted as the dog jumped up at her. ‘Hello Red!’

  At the sound of the dog’s true name, Iona turned and smiled warmly at Aisha for the first time, and Aisha smiled back.

  The low autumn sun had long faded in the sky and the air was now bitingly cold. Zak struck match after match but the flame kept blowing out. In the end Iona came out of the shelter and handed Zak her lighter. She cupped her palms around the damp leaves while he lit the tiny kindling sticks he’d placed on the fire floor. On the third attempt at clicking the lighter flint, the flame took.

  ‘I’ve lit a few fires in my time,’ Iona sighed as she watched her breath-mist float ahead of her. She drew closer to the heat, held out her hands and peered up through the trees. ‘If you want to stay hidden, it’s good camouflage in here. You’d have to build a pretty big fire for the smoke to be seen above this wood. Anyway, plenty of fires being burned this time of year.’ She sniffed the air. ‘I love that smoked burned-wood smell!’