by Alex Day
‘Right you are.’
Fuck this stupid camp and stupid Vlad and stupid bloody everything. Edie was struggling to distinguish between the right reasons she had for being here: independence, showing that she could hold down a job, a healthy lifestyle, opportunities to free-dive. And the wrong ones: putting off getting the qualifications she’d so far failed to achieve, avoiding facing up to her lack of a ‘career’. She’d been given so much help over the years by so many people – her parents, professionals, doctors, even James, who’d always stood by her – and how had she repaid it? By running away to somewhere most people had never heard of and investing so much in pretending to be happy that most of the time she actually kidded herself that she was. She dragged her feet along the path to her first cabana. She should be over the moon that Laura was all right and there was nothing to be afraid of anymore and no more searching to do. She should be seeing it as an achievement, although strictly speaking she hadn’t had anything to do with it. But she wasn’t. Laura hadn’t even begun to explain why she had ‘decided to move on’ so soon after arriving; why she had deserted Edie anew.
Banging and crashing around, she cleaned her cabanas in the skimpiest of manners that day. In her room after taking a shower she stood in front of the mirror she’d nailed to the wall. She examined her face, which was hers but could also be Laura’s; their likeness binding them together superficially as all their other similarities did beneath the surface.
She had read in one of the many twin studies she followed that psychologists believed you could tell the future relationship that a set of twins would have by observing how they reacted towards each other in the womb. There were playful twins, competitive twins, affectionate twins; twins with pre-natal habits and ways of behaving that would last after their birth and into childhood, adulthood and old age. She wondered what kind of relationship she and Laura would have been deemed to have, so close together for nine months in their watery world. Although it hadn’t been nine months as they had been born six weeks early, as her mother had frequently told her. Maybe that’s why I’m so hopeless at everything, Edie sometimes thought about herself. Born too early; brain not ready or something.
She looked back at the mirror and imagined that the person standing facing her was Laura. When they were little girls they had barely spent a moment apart. Every child longs for a best friend – unless you’re a twin, because in that case you already have one. She and Laura had shared everything, done everything together. They had had a secret language and although they had grown out of it years ago, Edie could still remember some of the words. Sweets were ‘goggles’ and the park was ‘balala’. She gave a brief snort of laughter at the memory. They must have driven their parents mad, sometimes refusing to talk English for days at a time, relishing their secret world that excluded all others. Edie felt bad for James, remembering how they had petted and patted him, making him part of their games whether he wanted to be or not, but never inviting him to join them in their made-up universe. Just as she wasn’t including him in Laura’s disappearance. He couldn’t know that she had lost her own twin, his beloved sister. He would never forgive her.
A knock on the door startled her thoughts away from James.
‘Who is it?’ she called out, not bothering to fumble around for clothes. She couldn’t imagine it would be anyone she wanted to talk to right now.
In the mirror’s reflection she saw the door opening.
‘Wait! I’m naked,’ she shouted out involuntarily, casting her eyes frantically around the room for something that might cover her.
‘That’s what I was hoping.’
It was Vuk.
‘Quick, get in and shut the door! I don’t need the whole world to see me in the buff!’
What on earth was Vuk doing here? He never came to the staff cabins.
Vuk was dressed in a business suit. She always found it incongruous to see people wearing formal work wear, in a holiday resort, in the heat and dust of high summer.
‘I wanted to see you.’
‘I thought you’d be off sailing. You usually are,’ replied Edie, pointedly. Her feelings on seeing him were not what they usually were. The usual delight was tainted by something else now, something she couldn’t put a name to and didn’t properly understand.
‘Not yet.’ He went over to her and rested his hands on her hips. ‘Don’t you want to see me?’
‘I just wasn’t expecting you.’
Vuk clicked his tongue regretfully and stepped backwards, holding her at arms’ length.
‘I wanted to say sorry; maybe you think I have not been sympathetic enough about Laura.’
Edie’s eyes widened in disbelief. Vuk apologising? This had to be a first.
‘You mean so much to me, Edie,’ he went on, his eyes still fixed on hers. ‘I am guilty of taking you for granted, not showing you how much I care for you. I’m sorry that my work takes me away from –’ he paused, as if his next words required a lot of effort ‘– from us. But when I am around – like now – I hope you’ll let me make it up to you.’
Edie was flabbergasted, and at the same time subsumed by a warm feeling that spread slowly through her veins to the tips of her fingers and the ends of her toes. She had been about to add ‘Vuk’ to her list of wrong reasons for being here, but now he could go firmly back to the top of the column of right ones. All her qualms faded away; she had let her crazy notions get the better of her for a moment when she had refused to stay the night, when she had wondered if he knew more about Laura than he was saying, but at least she hadn’t done any lasting damage.
She tilted her head back to look up at him. He was so tall, so handsome and masterful. Her hands strayed over his body, his buttocks taut inside the suit trousers. ‘Of course I will.’
She must have been losing her mind to have doubted him. No one could speak and act so lovingly if they didn’t mean it.
He bent down and kissed her, tightening his grip on her as he did so.
Edie turned her head away so she could talk. ‘I had some good news today.’
Vuk pulled her face back round to him so that he could continue to nibble at her lips. ‘What good news would that be?’
‘Laura’s OK. She sent a text. She left because she wanted to carry on travelling.’
Vuk spent a long time developing and then finishing the kiss, his tongue probing into her mouth, insistent and exploratory.
‘So it’s exactly as I told you, then,’ he said, finally relinquishing her lips and drawing away from her.
‘I guess so.’
‘You can abandon the search and concentrate on more pleasurable things.’ Vuk’s hands were clasped around her waist now. He moved them down and pressed his fingertips into the fleshy tops of her buttocks. It felt as if his nails were piercing her skin. ‘Can’t you?’ He pressed harder and the pain intensified. She squirmed out of his grasp.
‘You’re hurting me,’ she protested.
Vuk smiled the slow, lop-sided smile. ‘You don’t usually complain.’
Edie had no time to reply before he had picked her up and carried her over to the bed.
His love-making was rough and uncompromising. Edie knew she’d have bruises where he had gripped her forearms like a vice. She should have felt replete, safe in the knowledge that Laura was alive and kicking and that Vuk … Vuk what?
That Vuk loved her, of course. She smiled to herself, her face buried in his shoulder. He really did seem to love her. Mission accomplished.
She couldn’t explain the vacuum inside herself.
Vuk shifted his weight off her and, running his hand through his hair, sat up.
‘Are you going?’ asked Edie. She suddenly, desperately, didn’t want him to leave. If Laura was OK but just finding better things to do elsewhere she needed Vuk even more than ever. He was all she had.
‘I’ve got things to do.’ He pulled his trousers up, fastened the zip and buckled his belt. ‘I’m not going to be around much for a day or so. Another trip, I’m afra
id.’
Edie grimaced.
‘You’re so in demand.’ She tried to seem light-hearted, but her voice cracked mid-sentence.
Vuk smiled. ‘I’m sorry, little one.’ He kissed her tenderly on the forehead.
‘When I return, I would like you to come with me on a trip to the canyon. It will be good for you to work with the tourists more directly.’
Edie contemplated this idea silently.
‘Edie?’
She looked up at him. His eyes questioned gently but there was a steeliness in his tone of voice.
‘You do want to come, don’t you Edie? It’s a great opportunity for you.’
In what way it was an opportunity Edie wasn’t quite sure. It wasn’t as if her job on the resort was a career choice.
‘And just think – three days and two nights for us to spend together.’
The opportunity became clear. It would seal the deal, cement their relationship. Some quality time in each other’s company, no boat trips to keep tearing them apart, no cleaning and waitressing to steal the hours of her day.
‘It sounds great.’ Edie smiled, and didn’t have to try to make herself sound convincing. Laura was fine, no longer a concern. She had nothing to worry about except enjoying herself with her lover, Vuk. What could be more perfect?
Three whole days with Vuk, two nights camping out under the stars, snuggled up in a tent, sleeping bags zipped together for warmth, holding each other tight as the wolves howled and the brown bears stalked the ancient black pine forests. Of course, the wolves and the bears were unlikely to show up but the very fact that they existed was enough to increase the impossible romanticism of it all. And then the canyon, which she hadn’t seen yet, which was the second deepest in the world after the Grand Canyon.
‘I can’t wait,’ Edie added, sensing Vuk needed something more from her.
He landed a gentle peck on her forehead, got up and walked to the door. He put his hand on the handle, paused and turned to face her.
‘So that will be the end of looking for Laura, yes?’
‘Yes, of course. She’s – well, she’s all right.’ Edie frowned. ‘I’d still like to know exactly where she is, though,’ she added.
As she spoke, she could see the corner of the grey scarf peeking out from under a pile of clothing on the floor. An inexplicable clutch of fear made her stomach contract. Irritated, she dismissed it. What was wrong with her? Did she want Laura to be missing?
‘But I guess I’ll just have to wait to hear from her,’ she concluded.
‘That’s right, Edie.’ Vuk nodded. ‘Good girl.’
He opened the door and disappeared, closing it gently and precisely behind him. Edie listened as his footsteps receded along the wooden veranda.
EIGHTEEN
Fatima
It was a moonless, starless night. The pitch dark worked in their favour, making it harder for the border guards to spot them as they waited in the undergrowth for the smuggler’s van. Every now and again Maryam let out a whimper of fear; she had always been terrified of the dark. Fatima hastily stifled her cries as best she could, holding her tight and showering her with silent kisses of reassurance but not daring to utter any words of comfort. Disaster could still strike if they were found; the thought of being taken back across that border after so much effort was too terrible to contemplate.
They waited and waited. Every now and again, headlights roved into vision and they would throw themselves down into the long grass and hide until the patrol jeep had sped past. Each time, they wondered if it were the smuggler and each time it wasn’t and they were left with nothing but the sound of the crickets whirring all around them. Using their phones to track them, the smuggler knew exactly where they had been and where they would be crossing. But it had all taken so long that their phones were dead, even Ehsan’s emergency one, so they had no way to make another call to confirm their arrival. The smuggler had their money – lots of it – and he had told them to trust him so they had. But as the minutes turned to hours it became apparent that their trust had been misplaced.
Eventually, Fatima crawled close to Ehsan and whispered in his ear.
‘The smuggler’s not coming. We will have to walk.’
She could tell that Ehsan was angry, and so was she. But anger was not going to get them to safety.
She looked around her and saw no sign of light, not the smallest glimmer that could signal an approaching vehicle. Standing up, she picked up her plastic bag of possessions and took Maryam by the hand. Youssef followed her lead and, once he had shouldered his load, he took hold of Marwa.
‘Ehsan, you lead the way with the compass,’ instructed Fatima, not caring any more whether he liked it or not that she should be giving the orders. Somebody had to make the decisions around here. ‘We have spent enough time looking at the map, we know the direction. So let’s go.’
Ehsan mutely did as she directed. He, like them all, was too tired to argue or debate. One foot in front of the other was the most any of them could manage.
It took two hours blundering and stumbling along half-made paths in the darkness to reach the dusty town they were headed for. Even there, they were still not safe but at least they were on their way again. In the still of the night in which the whirr of the crickets held dominance, newly arrived refugees were being herded into minibuses. It was like some kind of surreal school trip, thought Fatima as they joined the queue; apprehensive and potentially disorderly students guided by bored and cynical teachers; no one quite knowing what the day would bring.
‘You pay $50 each person,’ growled the man in charge.
Fatima saw Ehsan bristle at the demand. There was no point in getting riled; this guy didn’t care that they had been ripped off. The only way they would get on that bus was if they shelled out the money he asked for. She whispered in Ehsan’s ear to give him the cash. Ehsan reluctantly did so.
It took an hour to get to the bigger town and all the way there the danger was ever present. The security forces had stepped up patrols of the mountain roads and were looking specifically for vehicles loaded with those who had entered the country illegally. Interception would mean a night in jail and back ‘home’ in the morning. Everyone on the minibus was tense, the atmosphere taut and strained. Nobody spoke. Everybody’s story was as bad as or worse than everybody else’s and everybody had the same aim in mind. There was nothing to discuss.
***
The large town they eventually arrived at was a bustling conurbation of houses, shops, factories and schools. Here they could blend in with the crowd and Fatima knew that she should be relieved but instead she just felt sick and exhausted beyond all imagining. There was a café near where the minibus stopped. The smuggler-driver, who told them his name was Muhammed, advised them that they could get something to eat and he’d be back in an hour. If they were heading to the nearby refugee camp they could make their own way there. If they were intending to get to the coast he would take them to where they could get a long distance bus.
‘How much will it cost?’ asked Fatima.
The smuggler named a price.
Ehsan caught her eye. Fatima gave an almost imperceptible shrug. If he wanted to argue about it, let him. She was past caring.
A long discussion ensued which Fatima only half listened to. She noticed, as she had done several times over the last few days without really taking it in, that Maryam kept scratching her head. She pulled the child towards her and sat her in her lap. On the pretext of stroking and soothing her, she ran her fingertips through Maryam’s thick dark curls. It was exactly as she had suspected; her hair was full of head lice.
For some ridiculous reason this seemed to Fatima to be a catastrophe, worse than all the misfortune they had so far encountered. After everything, Fayed’s death and Marwa’s near-fatal infected wound, the destruction of their house, the perilous crossing of the border, incomprehensibly this felt like the worst of all. It represented an utter dereliction of her duty as a mother; pa
rasites were feeding on her child’s blood and she could do nothing about it. She had neither metal comb nor shampoo nor a hot bath at her disposal. Maryam, and Marwa too, for if one had nits the other would surely also have them, would have to remain infested until such time as Fatima could deal with them.
And this was the reason it struck so hard. Because in such a small detail was the utter destitution of their life laid bare.
Fatima wondered if she would ever be a ‘proper’ mother again, with a safe house for her children to live in, a comfy bed for them to sleep on, good food for them to eat. Clean water. The most basic things that she had always taken for granted seemed utterly out of reach, and not just for now but for the foreseeable future. And soon, in just a few months, she would have a baby to care for – or rather, to fail to care for. She had nothing to welcome this baby with, not even a cloth to dress him or her in. Fatima rubbed her belly with her hands. Stay in there, she whispered under her breath to her unborn child. You’re better off safe inside than out in this terrible world.
Ehsan’s conversation with Muhammed had become increasingly belligerent and now the altercation reached its apex. It culminated with Muhammed uttering swear words that Fatima hoped the children didn’t hear and storming away into the bustle of the crowds.
Fatima looked at Ehsan enquiringly.
‘He wanted too much money,’ Ehsan snapped sharply at her. ‘And he wanted it upfront, now. How do we know he would come back? What guarantee would we have? We have experienced this once already and that is once too much.’
Fatima nodded. She would have given him the money for the chance of a swift beginning to the onward journey but it was too late now. They finished their juice, pastries and eggs and Fatima went with the girls to the bathroom. She cleaned their faces, and her own, with cold water from the tap and wiped them dry with toilet paper. Desperately she wished she could bathe properly; she could smell the ripe, unwashed smell of herself and it disgusted her, made her feel repellent. But there were no showers here and they needed to press on and put distance between themselves and any chance of repatriation.