I think about you and your family. I think about the lavender and heather fields and the black bees in England. The work you are doing is amazing. When I am there we will work on these projects together.
I will find a way.
Nuri
I left the café and took a seat on a bench by the half-dead dog, who lifted one heavy lid, ever so slightly, and then went back to staring at people’s passing feet. A man came and sat next to me. He had a phone and notepad on his lap. He tapped his fingers on this notepad and then glanced over at me. Then his eyes darted around the square and he looked over his shoulder. I noticed he was sweating a lot.
‘Waiting for someone?’ I said.
The man nodded, still distracted.
‘Where are you from?’ I said.
‘Syria.’
‘The Kurdish part?’
He looked at me and nodded. He smiled back, but his mind was elsewhere. Eventually a man and woman turned up.
‘I thought you weren’t coming,’ he said. ‘Did you bring everything?’
‘Everything you told us to bring,’ the man said.
‘Let’s go. He’s been waiting a while – he won’t be happy.’
I wanted to ask who they were meeting, but the man put his phone and notepad into his rucksack, and looked me right in the eyes, with confidence now. ‘Nice to meet you,’ he said. ‘I wish you a day of morning light.’ And before I could say anything the three of them headed off in the direction of the Metro station.
Afra came out of the Hope Centre smelling of soap, her face soft and gleaming with cream, and she had on a new headscarf. I suddenly realised how bad I smelt.
‘Afra,’ I said, as we walked back to the park, ‘I stink.’
‘Yes,’ she said, trying not to smile.
‘I need to find somewhere to shower.’
‘Definitely.’
‘It’s bad.’
‘Very.’
‘You could at least try to lie!’
I sniffed at my armpits, surprised at how I’d become accustomed to the smell. ‘I smell like the streets,’ I said.
‘You smell like sewage,’ she said, and I leant in and tried to kiss her and she scrunched up her face and pushed me away laughing, and for that moment we were both the people we used to be.
As we entered the park and walked among the shadows of the trees, my limbs became heavy, my mouth dry with anxiety, remembering everything that had gone on in this place.
‘This is the biggest sky I have ever seen!’ a young boy said to the girl beside him. They both looked up and so did I. There were no clouds that day and no wind, the sun was strong and the area gleamed with green and yellow, a taste of the summer months to come; and through the leaves, far beyond, the sky was big and blue and bright, almost as big as the sky above the desert, and for this boy it held promises.
‘When the night comes it will be full of stars,’ he said to the girl. ‘We will be able to make lots of wishes.’
And like a little boy, I made a wish to the blue sky. I wished to make it to England. I looked up and I let the wish fill my mind. I imagined the black bees and the hives. I thought of Mustafa’s email. I remembered my response. I will find a way.
We made our way to our place on the blanket. The crickets were louder now. The twins still had not returned; their blanket remained where they had left it, umbrella still open and perched on its side, a pair of new trainers beneath it.
When night fell Angeliki arrived, wrapped in a blanket, taking a seat by the tree beside Afra. She was picking at the scabs on her arms; the tiny wounds had started to heal. As she adjusted the blanket, opening it up to wrap it more tightly around her shoulders, I noticed that her breasts had stopped leaking, only dry stains remained on her white top. She started to talk to me about Athens, stories she had heard about the ancient civilisation. She told me how she saw a team of young archaeology students digging for treasures by Monastiraki station, and she told me about the world hidden beneath the churches. Later she became quiet. She took the talcum powder out of her bag and smothered her face and arms with it, and then she sipped her water slowly and watched the children play, her hands in her lap.
The smell of the talcum and Angeliki’s rhythms had become familiar to me. Afra was different when Angeliki was there. She sat up and listened to her even though she didn’t understand everything she was saying, and every so often Angeliki would place a hand on Afra’s arm, or nudge her to make sure that she was paying attention.
‘Won’t you ever tell me where you came from?’ I said, once Afra had fallen asleep.