No Safe Place

by Deborah Ellis

  Jonah tried his best to help, but his shoulder hurt too much. Abdul gave him the job of finding places in the cave for the things they carried in.

  There was an ax on board as part of the safety equipment. Abdul took off his shoes, rolled up his trouser legs and started swinging at the hull. Cheslav and Rosalia opened the portholes.

  It took several swings to smash through the fiberglass. Water spewed in. Abdul moved to another spot and chopped a hole there, too. When he got tired, he passed the ax to Cheslav and then to Rosalia. They kept it up until the water coming in was at their knees. Then they returned to the rocky ledge.

  “Come and watch,” Abdul called to Jonah.

  The four of them stood together and watched as the yacht sank lower and lower. It took a while. The water came up from below, covered the deck and flooded the wheelhouse. And then the whole boat was gone.

  FIFTEEN

  Everyone started to relax. They made a meal out of crackers and cheese from the box of food taken off the boat. The comic books were passed around. They talked about Spiderman and Wonder Woman. Jonah read out loud to Rosalia. Abdul listened while he explored Gemma’s collections.

  It was peaceful, picking up the rocks and bits of driftwood, feeling their surfaces worn smooth by the sea. There were shells of all kinds — some the size and shape of his ears, some long and thin like his fingers, some round like his eyes.

  One by one, everyone drifted off to sleep.

  A few hours later, Abdul awoke with a start. He’d been dreaming that the security police from Calais had tracked him to the cave and were about to beat him. The dream had been so real that he had to leave the cave and breathe some fresh air.

  The night was cool and clear. The sea was calm. The storm was over.

  He went back inside. Cheslav stirred and opened his eyes.

  “What’s going on?”

  “I’m going into the village,” Abdul whispered. “I want to see where we are.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  Abdul was glad. He didn’t really want to go alone.

  Rocks made a natural staircase out of the cove. Abdul and Cheslav climbed up, taking their time in the dark. At the top of the cliff the breeze was fresh. The sky was full of moonlight.

  Cheslav and Abdul were alone on the cliff. There was no one else around. A short string of house lights sparkled on the other side of the field.

  “Race you,” Cheslav said, and the two of them took off, crossing the field in wild leaps like young deer, filling their lungs and pumping their blood full of good air. Abdul couldn’t remember the last time he’d run like that without being chased. It felt so good to move his legs full out, to take giant steps on solid ground, to stretch until his legs ached.

  They ran together, sometimes Cheslav a bit ahead, sometimes Abdul. They reached the outskirts of the village at the same time. They sat on the gravestones of an old cemetery, catching their breath before moving silently into the empty streets. The clock in the tower of the town hall said two o’clock.

  It felt to Abdul like they were walking in a postcard town with a bakery, a charity shop, an old age home, a pub, a couple of churches and a café that promised the best fish and chips in England. He could smell the lingering scent of grease and vinegar.

  They stopped in front of a bulletin board and read the town news. The local Shakespearean company was doing an evening called Sonnets and Grog. Someone had lost a black cat named Tinkerbell, and the Naughty Knitters were looking for donations of wool for their Socks for the Homeless program.

  They walked into a little park and sat on the base of the war memorial there. They listened to the quiet.

  “We’re in England,” Abdul said, after a time. His voice barely broke a whisper. “We made it. Do you think it’s all like this? When the town wakes up, will it still be nice?”

  Cheslav pointed to some graffiti scrawled on the base of the memorial.

  “There’s your answer.”

  PAKI GO HOME

  Beside it was a swastika.

  Without a word, they left the park.

  They passed through a street full of homes. Most of the houses were dark, the families inside sound asleep. One house had a light on and the curtains open. A mother was holding a small child in her arms, rocking and soothing it. The two boys stood in the darkness and watched until the baby was comforted to sleep and the light was put out.

  Maybe that’s a home for Jonah, Abdul thought.

  They walked back through the town. They were passing the charity shop when Cheslav stopped and stared in the window.

  Among the shoes, china and purses in the display case, there was a trumpet.

  “Do you want something?” Abdul asked. “I have some British pounds. Maybe we can come back tomorrow and buy it.”

  Cheslav looked at Abdul. He looked at the trumpet. Then he took a few steps back, grabbed a trash can from the curb and hurled it through the shop window.

  He grabbed the trumpet.

  Abdul found himself running before he even had time to make the decision to run. They sped through the streets, through the cemetery and across the dark field.

  He was so mad when they got back to the cave that he shoved Cheslav right to the ground.

  “You could have gotten us both arrested!” he shouted. “I come all this way, and you could have landed me in jail! I said I’d buy you what you wanted. Couldn’t you have waited?”

  Cheslav folded his arms around the trumpet. He looked up at Abdul and said, “I’ve waited long enough.”

  SIXTEEN

  When Abdul opened his eyes the next morning, the first thing he saw was Cheslav. The Russian was sitting cross-legged on the other side of the cave, the stolen trumpet in his lap. He was polishing it with his shirt-tail, making the brass sparkle in the candlelight.

  “He doesn’t even care,” Abdul said to Rosalia. “Look at him. He doesn’t care that he put us all in danger.”

  “If you feel you are in danger around me, feel free to go somewhere else,” Cheslav said calmly. “I’ll be staying around until tonight.”

  “That’s when I was planning to leave!” Abdul sat up and rummaged through the food box to see if there was any juice left. “Why don’t you leave this morning? You’ve told us how much you’ll blend in here. You and that stupid trumpet could just walk out of here into the open arms of the British people.”

  “Stupid trumpet? You are an idiot.”

  “Shut up, both of you,” Rosalia said.

  “I know why you think this is stupid,” Cheslav said, holding the trumpet up in the air. “You’ve probably never lost anything that meant something to you.”

  “Who do you think you’re talking to?” Abdul’s voice was low, like the warning growl of a dog about to attack.

  “I am talking to a boy who is mad at me because I take control of my life, while you spend your days rubbing some little gold disk you have hanging around your neck. Is that your good luck charm? I make my own luck.”

  “Stop talking.” Abdul clenched his fists.

  “Let’s see this magic necklace.” Cheslav crossed the cave in a couple of steps and put his hands on Abdul’s shoulders.

  Abdul knocked Cheslav to the ground and rolled on top of him, swinging and yelling. Cheslav fought back and tried to grab Abdul’s medallion.

  Rosalia moved the lit candles out of the way.

  “Come, Jonah,” she said. “Let’s let them kill each other.”

  But before Jonah could get to his feet, Cheslav and Abdul rolled into him, smashing against his hurt arm. He cried out.

  The fighting stopped.

  At the same time, Gemma appeared in the doorway.

  “Good morning,” she said brightly. “I brought breakfast. Are you fighting?”

  “It’s over,” Rosalia said. “They’re boys.”

>   Abdul straightened himself up and brushed off his clothes. Cheslav adjusted Jonah’s sling.

  Gemma took buns and jam out of her school bag.

  “Won’t your mother miss this food?” Abdul asked. “You didn’t tell her about us, did you?”

  “I couldn’t tell her about you without telling her I’d missed school, could I? And she won’t miss the buns. She knows I have a big appetite.”

  Abdul and Cheslav eyed each other warily as they sat down to eat, Cheslav cradling the trumpet again.

  Abdul watched Gemma setting up their breakfast as if she was setting up a party for her dolls. Her school uniform was clean, her hair shiny. She was loved and cared for. She would never be able to understand his life.

  Maybe I should just leave, Abdul thought, as he chewed on a roll. Maybe I shouldn’t wait until dark. If he started walking now, he could do twenty kilometers or more before the sun set. And if he kept walking through the night, he would really be well on his way by this time tomorrow.

  He looked at the change of clothes he’d bundled up for himself, on the floor near the crate of comic books. It would be easy to pick it up and walk out. Cheslav and Rosalia would be left with the problem of Jonah.

  He was halfway to his feet when a very angry woman appeared in the entrance to the cave. She was wearing a jacket over a nurse’s uniform.

  “Hands on your heads, all of you,” she ordered. “On your heads or I’ll shoot. I’ll shoot you dead.”

  “Mum!” Gemma went to the woman and took her hand out of her pocket where she was pretending it was a gun. “It’s all right!”

  “What part is all right? The part where I get called at work because you are missing school again? The part where you are sitting with a bunch of strange teenagers who ought to be in school themselves? Or the part where someone broke the charity shop window last night and stole a trumpet?”

  She looked at Cheslav. He just grinned.

  “And who is this child?” Gemma’s mother went over to Jonah. “Which one of you hurt him? What’s your name, son?”

  Jonah didn’t answer.

  “Who are you all? Where are your parents? Gemma, start talking.”

  “These are my friends.”

  “Your friends. What else? What about you?” she asked Rosalia. “Are these boys bothering you? Do you want to get away from them?”

  “I’m all right,” Rosalia replied. “I am in no danger from them.”

  “They’re not criminals,” said Gemma.

  “I suspect at least one of them is.” Gemma’s mother stared at Cheslav again. “That’s it. I’m going to the police. Gemma, let’s go.”

  Abdul stood up. “Please, your daughter is right. We are not criminals. And I would like to pay for the window that was broken.” He undid the safety pins on his trouser pocket and took out his roll of money. “The boy with the sling is Jonah. He’s a British citizen and his parents are dead.”

  “Shut up!” yelled Jonah.

  “We would appreciate it very much if you could get him to a doctor, just to make sure he is not badly injured.”

  “I don’t need a doctor!”

  Abdul put his money in the woman’s hand. “This is all we have. Use it for the broken window and for Jonah.”

  “Did you steal this?”

  “I worked for it. In Iraq. Take it, please. The money was to get me to England. I’m here now. Take it.”

  “I will pay for my own actions,” Cheslav said. He got his bundle and dropped it at the woman’s feet. “There are good things in here. Expensive things.”

  “Stolen things?”

  “The men who owned them were going to kill me. Why should I not take their things?”

  Gemma’s mother took a deep breath. She put Abdul’s money in her pocket.

  “I work as a nurse’s aide at the retirement home. The doctor will be going through there today on rounds. I’ll get him to see Jonah. I take it he’s not on National Health?”

  “He had an uncle,” Abdul said, “but he wasn’t the sort of man to look after things like that.”

  “Right. Well, we’ll figure it out. Come on, son, before my boss realizes I’m not in the break room drinking coffee.”

  “I want to stay here,” Jonah said. “My shoulder is fine.”

  “Fine or not, now that I know about you, I can’t just leave you here. On your feet or I’ll pick you up and carry you.”

  “She can do it, too,” Gemma said. “She’s always lifting old ladies on and off the commode.”

  “I’m not going,” Jonah said. “They’ll leave me!”

  “Your friends won’t go anywhere until they see you again and know you’re all right,” the woman said. “Tell him.”

  “We’ll wait,” Cheslav said.

  “Yes,” said Rosalia. “We’ll wait for you.”

  “I don’t believe you.” He looked at Abdul.

  I should have left when I had the chance, Abdul thought. I should have just walked away.

  He lifted the chain from around his neck and put it around Jonah’s.

  “I want it back,” he said.

  Jonah touched the medallion with his fingertips.

  “I’m sorry I called you a dirty Arab.” With that, he settled down and allowed himself to be led out of the cave.

  “After I take care of Jonah, I expect to be told everything,” Gemma’s mother called back to them. “Got that? Everything.”

  SEVENTEEN

  Abdul was not going anywhere until he got his medallion back.

  “Do you trust the woman?” Cheslav asked. “Maybe I should leave now.” He tucked his trumpet under his arm. “I have all I need right here. You two can have what’s in my bundle.”

  “I trust her,” said Rosalia.

  “Why?”

  “Because she asked if I was safe. We promised Jonah we would wait.”

  In the end they all stayed, sleeping the afternoon away until Gemma returned.

  “How is Jonah?” Rosalia asked.

  “Jonah is good, he’s great. At first Mum couldn’t get him to talk. Now she can’t get him to stop.”

  “Where is he?” Abdul asked, thinking about his medallion.

  “He’s at home. At my house. Mum sent me. You are all to come to supper.”

  “To supper?” asked Cheslav. “Maybe it’s a trap.”

  “It’s not a trap,” Gemma laughed. “It’s roast chicken!” She bounced up the cliff steps and danced around them as they crossed the field.

  Abdul found himself thinking of Fatima. She would be Gemma’s age now, he realized.

  Gemma’s small house was on the edge of the village. Abdul took off his shoes at the front door as they were greeted by warmth and smiles and amazing scents of food.

  Jonah was first at the door, his arm in a new sling, and wearing new clothes. He was clean. Abdul spotted the medallion around the boy’s neck.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “It’s just a sprain. I told you I didn’t need a doctor.”

  Gemma’s mother was next to welcome them.

  “Come in. Call me Beth. I don’t have enough chairs for everyone so we’re eating in here.”

  “It’s an indoor picnic!” said Gemma.

  Abdul entered the room and he thought his heart would break.

  All the furniture had been pushed down to one end of the room. A big bedsheet was spread out on the floor to hold the meal. Everyone would sit on the floor.

  It was like he was back in his mother’s house.

  He closed his eyes. He could see his brothers jostling for positions, trying to tuck their growing legs out of the way. He could see his father, taking platters of food from his mother and placing them on the cloth, looks of love and laughter passing between them. And he saw himself at Jonah’s age, sittin
g beside his father, listening to him quote Shakespeare as he made sure his big older sons left enough food for his youngest.

  Then Abdul saw a guitar propped up casually against a wall by the window.

  And he started to cry.

  Gemma’s mother — Beth — passed him a box of tissues as though it were a normal, everyday thing to have strange teenaged boys crying in her living room.

  “That was my son’s,” she said lightly about the guitar. She dished out plates of chicken and vegetables and passed them around. “Help yourself to the pickles. Jonah told me a lot, and I confirmed his story by calling a cousin of mine who works with the Coastguard. The Americans were picked up unharmed.”

  “I told you I was telling the truth,” Jonah said with his mouth full.

  “Yes, you did. This is what we’ll do,” said Beth. “We’ll eat, then we’ll talk, then we’ll figure out what to do next. You can probably handle your plate better if you put that trumpet down,” she said to Cheslav.

  Cheslav held a plate full of food in one hand and the trumpet in the other, looking like a statue searching for balance. He could not make himself release the trumpet. He put his plate on the cloth and ate from it that way. It looked awkward, but it worked.

  “Abdul, before I forget, here’s what’s left of your money back.” Beth handed him a roll of bills. “The window is now fixed. And they only want fifty pounds for the trumpet, so I paid them out of that. Maybe Cheslav will pay you back.”

  “No problem,” said Cheslav. “I have no problems now.”

  I have money again, Abdul thought, checking to see how much he had left. Even if he split the money with Rosalia and Cheslav, there would still be enough for food and for transportation if the weather was bad. There were no more seas to cross and no more borders in his way.

  It’s almost over, he realized.

  “All right,” said Beth, once the main meal was over and cleared away. The cloth was folded up so they could all stretch out their legs. Pots of tea and dishes of bread pudding were brought in. “Cheslav. Can you really play that trumpet, or do you just like to hold it?”