But Caleb still stared at him curiously.
Joel set about making breakfast without too much clattering. It was odd how he found that the simple chopping up of mushrooms and tomatoes was exactly what he needed: calming and meditative. He could see straightaway what Flora got from it. It was pleasant to be out here, in the breezy early morning air, rather than stuck inside an office staring at a screen. He glanced up and found himself being regarded by a large hare, who flattened its ears then bounded off across a field of wildflowers. Joel found himself doing something uncharacteristic: he was smiling.
He turned round then at a sound. At first, he thought it was just one of the birds, but as he listened he realised it sounded more like a stifled sob.
He walked over to behind a copse and found little Caleb, his face absolutely filthy, desperately trying to stifle sobs. As soon as he saw Joel, he turned his face away fiercely, wiping his nose on his grubby sleeve.
‘Hey,’ said Joel, as casually as he could. ‘Are you hiding to get away from helping with breakfast duties?’
Caleb shrugged. Joel wanted to go and sit beside him but didn’t feel that would be the right approach. It was like dealing with a terrified animal.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Joel, realising. ‘I didn’t mean to splash you with bubbles. I was trying to mess about, that was all. It’s my first day.’
‘It’s no’ you, mister,’ came the small voice.
‘Are the other boys being assholes?’
Caleb shrugged.
Joel sat down, pretended to be very busy looking at his cup of coffee and didn’t say anything for a moment. In the distance, two cormorants circled the cliff at the end of the beach.
‘They’re stupid,’ said Caleb. ‘Anyway, their mas are rubbish. Hoors the lot of them.’
‘Don’t say that,’ said Joel gently.
Caleb rubbed his face again.
‘Were they talking about mothers?’
Caleb shrugged. ‘I don’t care.’
Most of the boys had mums, whom they lived with on and off; many were with their grandparents; nearly all had some kind of family contact. Only Caleb was truly alone, it transpired: in a residential home, for as long as he could remember; never adopted. He wasn’t cute, with his scrawny rattish features and embittered expression. Oh, Joel knew it all so well.
‘Everyone wants girls, don’t they?’
He didn’t even know why he said it.
Caleb nodded fiercely. ‘They want the cute ones. Blah, blah, blah, ooh, kissy cuddle face.’
He scowled again.
‘In my day, they wanted boys to work the land,’ said Joel. ‘I didn’t look like I could do that either.’
Caleb looked up. ‘Did they make you?’
‘They tried,’ winced Joel, remembering one particularly long summer on a cotton farm in Virginia. There had been a lot of shouting. He had been so tired he had fallen asleep every night at the dinner table. Theo the farm hand had thought he was useless and bullied him endlessly. The smell of the fields had haunted him for years. Mind you, he’d had no problem with insomnia then, he found himself thinking.
Caleb sat up and they both threw rocks into the stream for a bit, not speaking even as they could hear the other boys, returning to the camp, shouting things.
‘It sucks,’ said Caleb.
‘It does,’ said Joel, throwing a stone with exceptional force. ‘It sucks ass.’
Caleb shot him a sideways glance. ‘Does it get better?’
And Joel thought about it. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘it does. Now wash your face and we’ll get to breakfast.’
Chapter Fifty-two
Saif was definitely on a post-Neda high when he decided that a Saturday afternoon walk in the blowy mountains might be quite the thing – it would help Ib forget about his iPad for one.
It had also occurred to him, as Neda had told him, that he would have to talk about their mother at some point. And possibly being high up in the hills might provide … well … a safer space. A space for all of them that wasn’t just tiptoeing about the house, with the constant sound of computer games and Ash whimpering in his sleep. He didn’t want to carry Ash up the hill – one good thing since they’d got here was that he was filling out and putting on some weight. There weren’t quite the hollows under his eyes that there had been before, and he was getting heavier to carry everywhere. Though his hollows had transferred themselves directly to his father.
Nonetheless Saif tried to be jolly as he got them, grumbling, into waterproofs and wellingtons. It was cool and breezy outside, and the grass bent in the wind. Ibrahim moaned and complained the entire way. Ash was bouncier, particularly when he saw a hawk that Saif pointed out to him.
Annie’s Seaside Kitchen was busy as he popped in for some rolls to take with them, and Flora was looking slightly distracted.
‘How’s Joel?’ said Saif casually. Joel hadn’t come to see him to ask for drugs, and Saif was unsure as to whether this was a good or a bad thing.
Flora stiffened. ‘You’d have to ask him,’ she said, and Saif regretted mentioning it immediately. Ash was pointing at the big jam and cream scones at the front of the display and Saif made a promise he could have one if he climbed to the top of the hill, which Ash immediately did, whereupon Saif bought it for him and Ash immediately dissolved into tears and demanded it now and Saif eventually gave in and gave him a little bit, which brought on more tears and a full door-slamming stomp-out from Ib and the same sinking feeling in Saif’s stomach that nobody – nobody – could be doing a worse job with the boys than he was, and he was their father. He was conscious not just of the loss of Amena, who would surely know what to do in that beautiful smiling way of hers, but his own mother, long dead, and the way she could soothe him when he was upset and the way she seemed to move …
He shut it down and pasted on a smile, trying to channel Neda.
‘Come on! Let’s go! Last up is a loser!’
The boys stomped grumpily behind, Ash moaning that he had a stomach ache, Ib pointing out every five minutes that he was bored. Saif thought for a second what would have happened if he had ever spoken to his own father like that, but again, it wasn’t worth bothering about right now.
And the view from high up really was worth it, as they finally reached it and threw themselves down, complaining even though they could see all the little boats in the bay and the grey slate of the roofs of all the houses of the town.
Saif pulled out sandwiches and cans of juice and the boys picked at them listlessly. It had heated up a little bit up here, and he stretched out on the grass and let it tickle his nose. When you got close, you could see the beetles scuttle here and there, a busy world beneath the world they lived in. Were they as concerned? Did such awful things happen? How many bugs had he trodden on just to get here, and did they even notice when children, wives, parents got lost – vanished off the face of the earth?
Even so, it was pleasant up in the hills. Even Ib had lost his characteristically guarded look. Saif stared at him.
‘Do you guys …?’
He tried to start casually. It had been the last thing Neda had said to him before they left. They had to discuss Amena. Don’t make a big deal out of it, she’d said. Just talk about her. Just let it flow naturally so they didn’t feel that anything was their fault, or not up for discussion. It would be hard at first, but the more they talked, the better it would get. He had nodded when she’d said that, thinking how reasonable she sounded.
‘Do you think about Mama a lot?’
Ash shot up immediately. ‘Mama is coming? She’s here? Mama’s back?’
Ib read Saif’s expression better. ‘Of course she isn’t, you idiot. She’s probably dead. And even if she wasn’t, why would she want to come here?’
The crushed look on Ash’s face made Saif more furious with Ibrahim than he’d ever been with anyone in his life. He did his best to swallow it down. He was so upset he could have … No. No. It was a child he was dealing with. A sad, wounded child without a mother.