of the fifteenth day, the mother with the blue hijab stood up suddenly, Mahsa in her arms, and ran over to where the old lady was tending to another young child. She grabbed the old woman by the shoulders. At first, I thought something bad had happened and I jumped to my feet. But then I saw that the mother had a smile on her face, and once she’d let go of the old woman’s shoulders, she started pressing her own breasts with her palms.
‘Echeis gala!’ the old woman said. ‘Eftichos! Echeis gala!’ and she crossed herself and kissed the mother’s hands. The mother made herself comfortable now on a blanket, signalling to the old lady to keep watching as she held Mahsa in her arms, gave her the nipple and the baby girl began to feed. I smiled at this turn of events. A real smile, coming from my heart. The old lady saw this and she raised her hand to me in salute.
Having seen all this unfold convinced me that things can change, that hope can prevail, even in the most difficult of circumstances. Maybe we could get out of here soon. I remembered the money in my rucksack. I’d been guarding it with my life, using it as a pillow at night to ensure that nobody could get to it without waking me first. People spoke openly about the thieves. They were silent though about the other things that lurked in the shadows.
That night, when I saw the boys sitting on their usual blanket beneath the tree, I thought about approaching them, and when the strong smell of cologne wafted my way, I saw they were splashing aftershave onto their faces.
I wandered over and asked them if I could sit down. They were wary, their eyes darting to the woods, but they were too young and too naive to refuse. They shook my hand and introduced themselves as Ryad and Ali, twin brothers, not identical, about fifteen years old. Ryad was the taller and stronger of the two, Ali had something of the child in him still; together they were like puppies. I asked them questions and the boys answered, talking over each other at times.
They told me how they fled Afghanistan and their father’s murderers. After their father’s death the twins were themselves targeted by the Taliban and their mother urged them to leave before they were captured. She didn’t want to lose her boys as well as her husband. They described to me how she had cried and kissed their faces a hundred times because she feared that she would never see them again. They told me about their journey through Turkey and Lesbos, and how they arrived in this strange city with no help and no idea what to do next. That was when a man advised them to head to Victoria Square, a well-known meeting point for refugees.
‘We thought somebody there would help us,’ Ali said.
‘And we couldn’t sleep on the streets anymore.’
‘And all the benches were taken.’
‘And there were too many gangs.’
‘Ryad was afraid.’
‘Ali was more afraid – he was shaking in the night.’
‘So they told us to come here.’
‘So, you know Nadim?’ I said. ‘Has he been helpful to you?’
‘Who’s Nadim?’ Ryad said. They both stared at me without blinking, waiting for a reply.
‘Maybe I got his name wrong.’ I forced a smile. ‘The man with the guitar. The man with the scars.’
They quickly looked at each other and their eyes became dark and unwelcoming.
‘I think you mean Ahmed,’ Ryad said.
‘Oh, that’s it! I knew I’d gotten it wrong. I’ve met so many people these last few weeks and I’m terrible with names.’
The boys remained silent.
‘Did he help you?’ I said. ‘I’ve heard that he’s very kind.’
‘He helped us out quite a bit the first night,’ Ali said, and Ryad nudged him. It was slight, on his thigh, but I saw it.
‘I see. And then?’
Ali was reluctant to answer. He lowered his face to the ground, not looking at me or his brother.
‘Does he want the money back?’ I said.
Ali nodded. Ryad rolled his eyes, looked up at the sky.
‘How much?’
‘We are paying in instalments, OK?’ Ryad spoke up now, he sounded defensive.
‘How? Where do you find the money to make the repayments?’ I must have looked at Ryad’s new shoes because he tucked his legs under him, but it was Ali’s reaction that disturbed me the most. I noticed that his body folded inward and he wrapped his arms protectively around himself, his face bright red. From nowhere there was a shadow that blocked out the sun and I saw that Nadim was standing over us, rebab in hand, a crooked smile on his face.