The car slows as Josie points to a dusty track leading from the road to a grove of olive trees. Tom turns off and parks in the shade. He offers to walk the short distance to the beach with us, but I give him a hug and ask him to wait here. He knows this morning is for Josie and me. The few times he’s met her, he’s grown to like her immensely and he trusts that what we’re doing today is something necessary for us both.
I take her arm, steadying her but at the same time drawing strength from her presence beside me, and we make our way down the short, stony path. And even though it’s just the two of us now, we know we are not walking this path alone. We are a part of something much bigger. We are the storytellers and the quilt-makers and the dreamsellers of this world. We are the ones who dare to hope.
In the sunshine, the waves sparkle as they curl towards the beach, playfully tossing their heads of white foam in the brisk breeze. Josie and I smile at one another and she says, ‘They’re happy for us, I think.’
I stoop down and select three flat stones, big enough but not too big. Then I pull the marker pen from my pocket and hand it to Josie. One the first stone she writes Maman. On the second she writes Annette. She gives me back the pen and I write Grace on the third.
We hold those pebbles in our hands as we walk along at the water’s edge, their weight as hard and dense as the grief we’ve carried in our hearts. We don’t talk, because words can’t express the thoughts that are in our heads right now. The wash of the waves teases our feet and the breeze makes the hem of Josie’s shawl flutter. We walk a long way, until we’re ready. And then she turns to me, her eyes asking the question, and I nod. We stand side by side, facing out to sea. Beyond the horizon is America, but we don’t need to go that far to find our dreams. We know they are right here, within us.
And then it’s time to let them go – Delphine, Annette and Grace – and the ocean catches them and draws them into its embrace, promising to keep their names safe for us and never to forget them.
I shade my eyes with my hand to watch as, out across the waves, three white seabirds swoop and wheel. And then they are joined by more and become lost in the joyful, soaring throng. At my feet, a tiny white feather lies on a patch of sand among the stones, as soft as a wisp of baby’s hair. I pick it up and hand it to Josie.
‘It’s yours,’ she says, holding it in the palm of her hand.
‘I know. But I want to give it to you. It’s my payment to the dreamseller. To say thank you. Would you keep it safe in your sandalwood box for me?’
She nods, understanding, carefully closing her hand around the soft curl of it so that the breeze can’t snatch it away.
She takes my arm again, gently running her fingers over the rough patches of skin on my hand, which are beginning to heal now. And then the two of us walk back along the beach and up the path, to the grove of olive trees where Tom is waiting.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: SOURCES AND RESOURCES
Casablanca was a fascinating melting pot during the war years, when thousands of refugees made their way there in the early 1940s, escaping from Europe and hoping to make their way to Britain and America via Lisbon.
Dorothy Ellis, Stafford Reid, the artist Gustave Reynier, Hélène Bénatar and the fabulous Ms Josephine Baker are real-life historical characters, who each played their roles on this extraordinary stage as the drama unfolded across North Africa. Meredith Hindley’s book Destination Casablanca – Exile, Espionage, and the Battle for North Africa in World War II is an excellent starting point for those wishing to know more about the history of those times.
All other characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblances to persons dead or living are purely coincidental.
There are many translations of the Tales from the Thousand and One Nights. I used the Penguin Classics edition as a reference point, but the interpretation of the story of ‘The Dream’ is my own. The stories of the princess and the turtle doves and the mosquito who drank the ocean are adapted from Tashelhiyt Berber Folktales from Tazerwalt （South Morocco） – Berber Studies Volume 4 – by Harry Stroomer. The fable of ‘The Wisest of Cats’ is paraphrased from The Clever Rat and Other African Tales, retold by Suzi Lewis-Barned, which also contains the story of ‘The Fisherman and the Genie’。
Like Zoe, I’m new to the world of quilting. I hope that those more expert than me in the vibrant quilting community worldwide will forgive any mistakes. The Quilter’s Bible by Linda Clements was a very helpful starting point in deciphering the language of quilting and explaining how to piece together blocks. Louise Whittle’s wonderful shop and website, The Wonky Giraffe – www.wonkygiraffe.co.uk – was another source of inspiration for all things crafting. There is also a wealth of resources online, including many different versions of the Tree of Life design. The use of quilts in the Underground Railroad and the links between quilting motifs and African cultures are explored further in Hidden in Plain View （A secret story of quilts and the Underground Railroad） by Jacqueline L. Tobin and Raymond G. Dobard, Ph.D.