A Line in the Sand (57 page)

place in our home, a refuge."

child, a

louded the policeman's face.

Surprise c

He told them to wait there,

on

tep.

the s

came back a couple of minutes later, after a hushed conversation

He

377

inside, and said they'd be visited, and he told them that the Perrys grateful.

were

walked home.

They

u think she'll come, Simon?"

"Do yo

"I don't know, but, for both our sakes, I hope so.

The bird flew above him. It glided with him as if escorting him.

Vahid Hossein moved, very slowly, through the

Sometimes

reed-banks.

e bird would wheel and fly back past him, and sometimes it would

th

nger each time it flew.

hover over him. The wing-beat seemed stro

In

the depths of the marsh he went so carefully to be certain that he did

not disturb the nesting birds. When he waded the mud clogged up to s

hi

knees and he had to use his strength to drag himself forward through ms.

the reed-ste

When he swam, the weight of the rocket launcher and

the missiles on his back pushing him down, he did so with great

ion. He was never in the open water. He never broke the

caut

reed-stems.

He sensed that a man watched for him.

When he rested, exhausted from the mud and the weight of the launcher on his back, he was

in the bag

relieved to realize that the bruised

hip

w caused him less difficulty.

no

In the cold of the water there was

no

, and the restriction on his movement was less marked.

pain

He was

sufficiently fit to go forward, to move against the target.

Only when he was near to the shore-line, when it circled over him, did

he talk softly to the bird. He was in dense reeds and he moved them he passed close to geese.

aside singly, and

you well, friend, and I regret that I did not find you at

"I wish

the

l or at the Faw marshes or at the Haur-al-Hawizeh.

Jasmin Cana

There

were good birds there, but they were not your equal.

I would have

been

ul there, friend, for the comfort of your company as I am

gratef

378

grateful here. I will remember you... Vahid Hossein did not believe it

stupid or sentimental or childlike to talk to the bird.

"Will you remember me? I think so. You will not forget the man, the

soldier, who cleaned your wound and fed you. I believe that when

you

come back next year, from wherever you go in the cold winter, you

will

look for me."

In his exhaustion, Vahid Hossein did not recognize the danger to him of

rambling and incoherent thought. He was weakened and hurt, and he did

t.

not know i

He dragged himself across the mud of the shore-line,

through the last of the reed-stems. He was still and gasped for

breath.

e, friend, look for me, search, do not forget me."

"Goodby

A sparrow flew away, cheeping, as he scrambled the few yards for the cover of the trees and undergrowth on Fenn Hill to meet Farida Yasmin.

uld shout his name, in the streets, when he was home.

They wo

He did

t feel the exhaustion.

no

He had the love of the bird and believed

himself supreme.

e huge

The great anchor chain rose from the sea. The power of th

engines edged the tanker away from the mooring buoys. Its cargo

gone,

the deck of the tanker and the bridge were high above the water.

It would be a long climb... They would have sailed two hours before but

ate arrival back on board of seven of his crew.

for the l

They had

claimed they were lost ashore, and the master had believed they smelt of women's bodies. They always went with whores when allowed ashore, and they were all good Muslims, and they brought back on board foul ines that would be thrown into the sea when the tanker, days

magaz

later, reached the Straits of Hormuz and the last leg for home. They ke full speed, twenty-four knots, and be near to the port

would ma

of

m in the late evening where they would collect the pilot

Rotterda

before

nto the separation zone.

sailing i

They would reach the waters off

379

Dungeness in the hour before dawn the next morning. It was still

possible for his instructions to be changed and for him to pick up the

of darkness, lift him off the beach.

man under the cover

it would be a long climb for the

But

man, if his orders were changed,

on a bucking rope-ladder, from the sea to the deck and safety.

Farida Yasmin sat on the bench and watched the muted life of the

village pass her by. She could see the green and the far end of the house. Today, the police cars cruised more frequently on the one

road.

She had been through the village twice, gone to the sea twice and

up to

the church. She hated those times, when she was away from the bench, ught

when she could no longer see the end of the house, but she tho

it

important to break any pattern she set. She should not spend too

long

on the bench. A woman with a brightly coloured coat had come and

sat

with her and had talked about the village. She seemed lonely and

bored, soFar ida Yasmin had smiled sweetly and fed the questions that had kept the woman talking. The woman had been with her for an hour.

aluable hour. In the police cars, going slowly by, the

It was a v

men

e seen her listening earnestly, and would have thought she

would hav

belonged. While the woman had talked, looking at her with interest, smiling, laughing with her, Farida Yasmin had been able to see the end

of the house over the stupid bitch's shoulder. She glanced, too

often,

at her watch. Time was passing. She sat on the bench and she thought of the smooth skin of his body, the discolouration of the bruising, and

she held her fingers against her lips because the fingers had touched and hair and the bruising... But she had nothing to tell

his skin

him

uld help him.

that wo

"Excuse me, miss."

cap, he had a dull, pudgy, middle-aged face. Below his

Under his

face

top of the bullet-proof vest against which he held his

was the

machine-gun.

380

"Hello." She made her voice calm, pleasant.

The car was parked behind her, and the driver watched them. It was bright daylight and she had no weapon; he was protected and armed.

"Can I ask what you're doing, miss?"

She grinned. Imperceptibly, she opened her legs, and she

straightened

her back to emphasize the fall of her chest.

"What you wish you could be doing, officer, letting the rest of the world take the strain."

"You've been here a long time, miss, doing nothing."

"My good luck, to have the time to do nothing."

A small rueful smile slipped his face. He'd have seen the shape of her

thighs and the outline of her breasts, as she'd intended.

"So what are you doing here?"

She still grinned, but her mind raced at flywheel speed. It was the moment at which she was tested. It came to her very fast, and she clung to it. She had no time to consider what she said. She must follow her instind. There might be an old photograph of her, but

she

believed she looked sufficiently different.

"I'm at Nottingham University we're doing a study on rural problems.

I

chose here. Didn't I do well?"

"You don't seem, if I might say so, to have done much studying."

"Watch me tomorrow, if you're still here, officer. You won't see me

for dust."

ss?"

"What's your name, mi

"I'm Carol Rogers. Geography at Nottingham."

381

"Do you have identification, Miss Rogers?"

don't, actually.

"I

I left everything like that where I'm staying,

in

th does it matter?"

Haleswor

d given the name of a popular girl, a right bitch, at the

She'

university. The policeman could take her to the car and sit her in the

back, and radio through the details and wait for confirmation of her ity.

ident

If Carol Rogers was still at the university, going after

a

was called from the library, then Farida Yasmin had

masters, and

d.

faile

If she failed, when the light shone into her face and the

estions hammered her, she might break as Yusuf had broken. Her

qu

hand

ed her breast. She thought it was just routine, that he was

touch

doing

d was undecided.

his job an

ou have anything driving licence, cash card?"

"Don't y

omed from the car.

The voice bo

Duggie, for Christ's sake..."

"Come on,

ned away and walked back to the car. When they drove past,

He tur

he

her hard. She bit her lip. She wouldn't tell him that

looked at

she

een questioned.

had b

She thought of her future, when he had gone;

anxiety about the future had gnawed increasingly at her through the he would be hunted, and looking over her shoulder, always

day. S

waiting for a policeman to ask her for identificahon.

But she could

not leave the village, not while she had nothing to tell him that

would

help him. And then the pride flushed in her because she had come

skill.

through the first test of her

Davies ended the call and he finished scribbling notes on his pad.

They

m. The principal had his arm around his wife's

were waiting on hi

shoulder.

Davies said, "Two officers in uniform went round to see them. Maybe they hit the door a bit hard, but it took Blackmore five minutes to 382

get

r to come out of the kitchen and talk to them. They got it out

he

of

lly, who she was and what had happened to her.

her eventua

It's not

a

story. Control ran it through the computer. They're what

pretty

they

they are... I don't know whether it's the right place for you

say

or

e wrong place.

th

We couldn't have you visit there, Frank nor you,

Meryl, come back here.

t it might as well

You'd be a mile apart, bu

be

. You'd stay there,

a hundred. It's your decision, both of you

ryl,

Me

until the conclusion. I think we're close to that, hours from it, but

I don't know, and I don't know what's afterwards. I can't tell you how

long is "afterwards"..."

Perry said, "Listen, afterwards I'll go in my own time. Of course I'll

go. But it's not them, the people here, who decide when."

Davies said quietly, "They check out. He was British Council in capital city of Chile. First posting abroad for Simon

Santiago,

Blackmore. He would have been running a library at the embassy,

ng out the odd slice of Shakespeare, chucking British culture

bringi

and finding a girlfriend. It was late in 1972. The

around,

rlfriend

gi

was Luisa Himenez, and she wasn't suitable for a young fellow from the

g political, the ambassador

British Council not at all, left-win

uldn't have liked that, one little bit. In 1973 there was a

wo

military

hat deposed and killed the neo-Communist president, Salvador

coup t

lende, then a round-up of sympathizers. She went into the net,

Al

she'd

reened first in that concentration camp they set up in

have been sc

the

football stadium, then faced the heavy stuff. The interrogators

ly we trained them, we usually did gave her a hard time. A

probab

"hard

me" is an understatement. Blackmore would have badgered his

ti

een a waste of his time,

ambassador for action, and that would have b

d then he went direct to Amnesty International.

an

By his efforts,

383

she

was adopted as a prisoner-of-conscience. There are very few who get to

that status, and sometimes it can make a small difference. The

military were bombarded with letters, it meant hassle for them. For her, it reduced the chance of the old one-liner, "died of medical complications". Without Simon Blackmore's efforts she would have disappeared into an unmarked grave. She was quietly released four years later when the government was whipping up interest in a trade fair. Before she received prisoner-of-conscience status, the

interrogators had tortured her no fingernails, did you notice? Did you

see her walk away, limping? They broke the ligaments in her right knee, and surgery wasn't on offer. There are slashes at her wrists, attempted suicide when she thought she was going to break. Oh, what we

didn't see, she's got burns on her breasts, which they used as an

ashtray .. . The Blackmores have experienced persecution and