Yiza Page 4

  He sat down on the root of a spruce. When he couldn’t feel his heart any more, he went on climbing.

  It had snowed through the night, and the snow had slipped through the pine-needle roof and covered the path. Arian didn’t know where he was any more.

  He picked up some snow and put it in his mouth. He had lost his piece of bread. It was so quiet that he was afraid of the rushing sound in his ears. He thought he could hear the blood whistling through the veins in his throat. A tree trunk creaked. Then it was silent again. The sound of an engine, a long way off. A lorry. Arian knew what lorries sounded like.

  He sat down again.

  He whispered: No.

  He waited for an answer, then he whispered: Oh, right. Yes. Why?

  And waited for an answer again.

  He didn’t believe that Shamhan would punish him. He won’t do it, so that Yiza won’t cry. Little children sometimes sit down on the ground and refuse to walk any further. Shamhan knew that and he didn’t want it to happen.

  Now he wasn’t whispering any more, but speaking quietly: That’s how I’ll do it. I can do it like that, yes.

  He unzipped his anorak, pulled down his trousers and pants in one go, and relieved himself. He wiped his bottom with snow and soil. And washed his hands with snow and soil.

  He slithered down the slope following his own footprints. He saw the little copse. He paused.

  From here to here, he said softly. That’s how I’ll do it. I can do it. Can I do it like that?

  He listened for an answer.

  Right, he said, then that’s how I’ll do it.

  He listened.

  One here, he said, then one here and one here.

  He listened. He nodded.

  That’s how I’ll do it.

  And nodded.

  He crawled into the copse. Shamhan and Yiza were still asleep. They were lying just as he had left them. We need firewood, he thought. A lighter would be even better. He decided to mention it to Shamhan. He loved fire. He would have liked a cup of tea. There was some tea right at the bottom of the rucksack. He had taken two handfuls of teabags from the bowl at the home and put them in the pockets of his jogging trousers. He had got away with that twice. A lot of cups of tea.

  People round here aren’t stupid, said Shamhan. Particularly the people who have money, they’re not stupid. They go away in winter. They go to Italy. Or Spain. They can walk around in short sleeves there.

  Would you do that too, if you were rich? Arian asked.

  No, I wouldn’t.

  Why not?

  Because then people would break into my house.

  Are we going to break into their house? Arian asked.

  Yes, we are. Shamhan translated what Arian had asked and what he had told him.

  Why are we doing that? said Yiza.

  We’ll put the heating on. We’ll make some tea. We’ll see what’s in the freezer. We’ll watch TV. Is that good?

  Yiza looked over at Arian, and Shamhan translated again.

  Arian said: That’s good.

  He says it’s good, said Shamhan.

  Then Yiza, too, said: That’s good.

  What would you like to eat? What’s your favourite food?

  I don’t know what it’s called, said Yiza.

  And you?

  Meat, said Arian.

  Do you like watching TV? Shamhan asked.

  Yiza nodded.

  There’s bound to be meat in the freezer, said Shamhan. First he said it in Arian’s language, then in Yiza’s language, which was his language, too. We can find some. Chicken or lamb. Or both. I’m going to have chicken. I like chicken. I can cook chicken. I’ve cooked chicken before. I fried it in a frying pan. We’ll fry the meat in the kitchen. They’ve got everything there. We can make some rice to go with it. Or we can have bread. And what do you like to drink?

  Lemonade, said Arian.

  Milk, said Yiza.

  Hot or cold?

  Hot, please.

  Okay.

  They were hungry. And so they walked on into the brightening daylight.

  But it wasn’t a terrible hunger yet. They would just have liked something to eat, and there was a sticky, bitter taste in their mouths.

  They turned round and went back to the road. It was snowing, but it was warmer now, and the snow was mixed with rain. They had been given proper shoes in the home, but they weren’t made for a whole morning walking through slush. Water sloshed over the sides of their shoes and trickled into their socks.

  On the road, Shamhan didn’t dare go in the direction they had come from the previous day. He thought someone might have discovered his theft from the bakery. He thought the shop girl might be on the alert, looking out of the window, and would recognise him and call the police. They walked one behind the other. Arian behind Yiza behind Shamhan. But in this direction, it was a long way to the next village. And you could only get something to eat where people lived. And you could only get a lighter or matches where people lived, too.

  The blood was throbbing in Yiza’s thumb. She pulled off the thimble and picked up some snow and pressed her thumb into the snow. The plaster was dirty and sodden. She put the thimble back over it.

  Sometimes a car sounded its horn. Sometimes a car stopped. Then they ran off into the fields and didn’t look back. And kept running until they heard the engine start up again. The cars had their headlights on even though it was daytime. The day had never got properly light. It was raining. Shamhan’s and Arian’s jackets and Yiza’s coat were soaked through, and their hoods were soaked through, too. Arian was crying again. Yiza was crying as well now. It was mid-afternoon and the sky was already growing dark.

  Is it much further? Arian asked.

  I don’t know exactly, said Shamhan.

  Yiza asked if it was much further as well.

  He replied: It’s not much further now, sweetie. You’ll sleep well tonight.

  I slept well yesterday, too, said Yiza.

  No you didn’t, said Shamhan. You kept waking up. Have you forgotten?

  I forgot about that, said Yiza.

  Where did we sleep? Shamhan asked her. Tell me! Where did we sleep?

  I don’t remember, said Yiza.

  Where did we sleep last night? he asked Arian. Do you know?

  In the woods, said Arian.

  She doesn’t remember that, said Shamhan in Arian’s language.

  There were crows overhead. Not directly above them. They were flying over the field to their left. But they were following the three walkers.

  A dozen hay barns were scattered across a large, snow-covered field. They took shelter from the rain in the first of them. There was a padlock on the door, but it wasn’t fastened. They were wet through. They didn’t talk about hunger.

  The hay barn had a loft that came halfway out into the room. The walls and the roof were solid. The floor was made of rammed earth, swept clean. Hay forks and drying racks leant against the wall. A ladder led up to the loft. They climbed up one after another, Shamhan going last. He pulled the ladder up behind him.

  Some of the hay had been compressed into bales, and some was loose. The floor was dry and dusty. That’s good, said Shamhan, the dust will dry our clothes. They stuffed hay into their shoes. They took all their clothes off, turned them inside out and stuffed hay into the sleeves and the trouser legs and spread their pants, vests and socks out on the dusty floor and covered them in dust. Shamhan wrapped Yiza and Arian in the blanket. Then he heaped hay on top of them until they were buried in it. Finally, he crawled through the hay to them and got under the blanket. They clung to each other. They warmed each other. It was better than in the woods. Even though in the woods they’d had bread and lemonade. Here they had nothing. They quickly fell asleep.

  In the night, Shamhan got up. He wanted to have a think about something, but had forgotten what it was. He had known it in his dream. He crawled across the wooden boards, feeling his way with his hands. Everything around him was black. It di
dn’t make a difference if his eyes were open or shut. His eyeballs might just as well have been stones. He found the jackets and Yiza’s coat and he found Yiza’s dungarees and Arian’s trousers and his own and he found the shoes as well. He pulled out the damp hay and refilled them with dry hay. He pushed a hay bale right up to their little camp, so that they were hemmed in by two bales. Then he slid back under the blanket. The hay prickled his back, but that didn’t bother him. Soon he wasn’t cold any more, either. There was no sound. Only the children’s breathing close to his ear.

  Their things still weren’t dry the next morning. Yiza and Arian woke up crying. They wanted something to eat. Stalks clung to their naked bodies, and there was hay in their hair. Their bodies were thin and white. As if they were glowing from inside. Arian was even thinner than Yiza. They shivered, their teeth chattered, they cried, and Shamhan began to cry with them. Then they fell silent. And Shamhan cried alone. Yiza and Arian suddenly weren’t hungry any more. Yiza and Arian would have liked to talk to each other. What he thought about this. What she thought. What they could think about Shamhan crying. But Arian didn’t know a single word of Yiza’s language, and Yiza didn’t know a single word of Arian’s. Shamhan sat on the floor and sobbed and shivered, his teeth chattering, just as they had sobbed and shivered and their teeth had chattered. Now they stood in front of him with their hands behind their backs and shivered in the cold and their teeth knocked together. But sunlight was falling through the tiny glassless window in the gable, just below the roof.

  A beam of light with dust dancing in it.

  We need to wait until our clothes are dry, said Shamhan. First in Arian’s language, then in Yiza’s. Otherwise we’ll get sick. And we don’t have any aspirin.

  The sun shone for an hour that morning. They sat huddled together in the hay, naked, wrapped in the blanket, and looked at the sunbeam until it was extinguished and they heard the rain on the barn roof again. It was a heavy rain, driven by a strong wind.

  They passed the time by sleeping.

  Shamhan kept checking on their clothes. He woke Arian and Yiza. Our vests and pants are dry, he said. We have to beat the dirt out of them, or it will make us sore.

  What fun that was! They beat their underwear against the dry wood of the barn wall. Then they chased each other around, each of them hitting the others on their bare backs and heads and their bare arms.

  Hunger reminded them. They stayed in the barn another two days and two nights, then one dark morning it drove them out into the rain; it was pitiless and it made them look pitiless, too. They didn’t know where to go, but Shamhan went first and Arian and Yiza followed him, and he walked as if he knew the way, planting his feet firmly with every step, and they followed as if they trusted him.

  The sun had not yet risen above the clouds and mist when they reached a place where people lived. There were detached houses with garages and gardens, bungalows with satellite dishes on the roofs and low walls separating them from the street. There was a bus stop opposite the first bungalow. They huddled together beneath the bus-stop roof and peered over at a window where a light was shining.

  They saw the light go out, and soon after that they saw a man and a woman leave the house. The woman waited in the driveway, in the rain, holding a flat bag over her head, the man raised the garage door, and soon they were driving off. The house was empty and dark.

  Those people won’t come back ’til this evening, Shamhan said to Arian. They have jobs. They don’t have any children. They both have jobs. And they only have one car. They live alone and they don’t know anyone. He takes her to work, and in the evening he picks her up again.

  What? said Yiza.

  Nothing, said Shamhan.

  Nothing, said Arian. It was his first word in Yiza and Shamhan’s language.

  They ran across the street in the rain, climbed over the little wall, and Yiza and Arian crept along the side of the house after Shamhan, their backs hunched like Shamhan’s, their knees bent like Shamhan’s. Behind the house they couldn’t be seen from the street, and they couldn’t be seen from the other houses, either, because the gardens were separated by tall hedges.

  The basement windows were each fitted with a vertical iron bar.

  Come here, Shamhan said to Yiza. Come here to me. Do you see that? Can you get your head through there? Try! Can you?

  She could.

  It’s a good job we brought you, said Shamhan.

  Yiza smiled and showed her pretty teeth and nodded vigorously. And she smiled at Arian and showed him her pretty teeth as well.

  What if they come back now? Arian asked.

  I’ve explained this to you already, said Shamhan.

  But you can’t know that. Let’s not do it! Please, let’s not do it! I’m really scared. Please, let’s not do it!

  But I want to, said Shamhan. I’m hungry. Aren’t you hungry? Yiza and I are hungry.

  But what if they do come back after all?

  They won’t come back.

  What if they do?

  Then we’ll hear them and run away and take some food with us. That’s still better, isn’t it?

  What if we don’t hear them?

  We’ll definitely hear them. They’ve got a car. We’ll definitely hear the car. Then we’ll run away and take some food with us.

  What if they don’t come back in the car?

  They’ve got a car! Why would they come back without the car, when it’s raining? Of course they’ll come back in the car.

  What if the woman comes by herself?

  She won’t come by herself. It’s raining. She doesn’t have an umbrella. I didn’t see an umbrella.

  What if she comes anyway?

  Her husband will pick her up from work. That will be in the evening. We’ll be long gone. And we’ll have taken some food with us.

  But it’s not the house you told me about. Is it?

  No, it isn’t.

  So that house doesn’t exist?

  No – it does. But it’s not this one.

  So we’re not going there any more?

  No – we are going there. But first we’re going into this house.

  And we’re going to stay in the other house all winter?

  Yes, in the other one.

  Not this one?

  Probably not this one, no.

  Arian shook his head, looked down at the ground, dragged his shoe across the rotting brown grass.

  What? said Shamhan.

  Arian shook his head.

  What!

  Shamhan went to look for a rock in the garden. He had to look for a long time. Yiza and Arian watched him. He didn’t dare go too far out into the garden. It was daytime now, it wasn’t a bright day, but it was daytime, and someone in the house next door might see him in the garden. He couldn’t find a rock. He kicked the windowpane in with his heel. He reached through the hole, felt cautiously for the catch and opened the window. Yiza took off her coat. Like he had told her.

  Remember how we did it in the home? said Shamhan. We’re going to do that again here, exactly the same.

  Yiza nodded. She looked very serious.

  He lifted her up, carrying her in his arms like a baby, and pushed her through the window, legs first.

  Help me, he said to Arian.

  Arian shook his head and turned round and pretended he was keeping a lookout.

  Watch out for the broken glass, said Shamhan to Yiza.

  Okay, she said.

  She slipped her head past the iron bar and then she was in the house.

  Okay, she called out.

  She padded through the basement and up the short flight of stairs into the house. She found the sitting room and opened the patio door. Like Shamhan had explained to her.

  It was warm in the house. There was a radiator in every room, and all the radiators were very warm. They took off their clothes and hung them over the radiators in the sitting room and the bedroom. They leaned their shoes upside down against the heating pipes. Yiza and Ar
ian did what Shamhan told them. They hung their blanket over the radiator in the hall. And the rucksack over the radiator in the kitchen. Shamhan put Yiza under the shower and made hot water rain down on her.

  Can I sit down? she asked.

  Yes, he said. But don’t fall asleep, or you’ll drown.

  The sitting room was full of dolls. There were dolls on top of the television, on shelves, on the back of the sofa, on the window sills. Dolls with red woollen hair and knitted dolls and dolls made of porcelain and plastic and dolls made of felt. Shamhan gave one of them to Yiza. She played with it as the hot water fell on her. But she didn’t know what to play, and when she’d had enough he dried her off and tied two pillows from the bedroom to her with the belt of a dressing gown, one pillow at the front, one at the back. She looked funny; he showed her in the big mirror, and they squealed with laughter. He and Arian wrapped themselves in the duvets from the marital bed, which were filled with down and had white covers on them.

  Show me that, said Shamhan.

  He took off the thimble and removed the plaster. Her thumb was red and swollen. There was pus in the cut. He squeezed out the pus and wiped it off with toilet paper. He heated some water in a pan and added salt to it. He took Yiza’s hand and dipped it into the hot salty water. She screamed, but Shamhan didn’t let go. After a while she stopped screaming, and after a little while longer, he didn’t have to hold her hand there any more. She sat with the pan on her knees and waited, her hand in the salty water.

  Shamhan found plasters and some schnapps. He dried Yiza’s thumb, squeezed the last of the pus out of it and poured schnapps over the cut. This time she didn’t scream. He stuck a plaster on her thumb and she turned to look at Arian as she put the thimble back on. He nodded solemnly.

  Then they sat down in the kitchen and ate.

  They ate bread with butter and jam and bread with butter and honey. While they ate, Shamhan filled the rucksack with good things from the fridge. Sausage, cheese, peppers, tomatoes, an opened jar of olives, an opened bottle of white wine, three pots of yoghurt. In the larder he discovered tins of peaches, tins of peeled tomatoes, tins of peas. Arian found some ham at the back of the fridge, wrapped in paper, it didn’t smell off.