protect you. That’s what I call a real wimp.’
Patrick dragged Cody away. Patrick and Cody were friends, and Mosi could never understand that friendship. ‘Leave Mosi be,’ he heard Patrick say, ‘he never does anybody any harm.’ And then, though his voice was soft, he heard Cody’s next words, the words he knew he wasn’t meant to hear.
‘So, are we still on for the night, Patrick?’
Chapter 5
Mosi’s mother looked worried when he got home that day. There was a strong police presence all over the estate. An incident van was parked almost at the entrance to his block of flats. There was a television news van there too. The spot where the man had fallen was marked out with police incident tape.
‘They will soon go, hooyo ,’ he tried to assure her.
She shook her head. ‘The boy who saw him fall, he lives in this block of flats. Three floors above us. They will be asking questions of everyone here. In case we saw something too. The man came from our country. They will think we might know him.’
He saw her hand shake as she put down his plate of food. His father clasped her fingers. ‘It will be all right, Uma. We saw nothing. We know nothing.’
‘Did you know this man, aabo ?’ Mosi asked him.
‘I talked to people who did. Hassan, his name was. They said he’d been worried, frightened about something, afraid . . .’
‘He was being sent back,’ his mother said.
‘I do not know. But I imagine, yes, he was afraid he was being sent back. His brother disappeared a few weeks ago. Afraid too of being sent back. It is a tragedy.’
‘They do not know why he was in that tower block,’ his mother said. ‘He lived on the other side of the estate.’
His father had an explanation. ‘There are many empty flats in that block.’ Mosi knew that was true. There had been talk of all these tower blocks being demolished and everyone moved to other parts of the city. His father went on. ‘I heard he was stowing food in one of them, so he could hide there if his application for asylum failed.’
His mother let out a long sigh. ‘Poor man, how desperate he must have been.’
Mosi still had no sympathy. Why could he not just have disappeared, the way his brother had disappeared? Why such a public death? He hated him for making his mother cry.
Mosi couldn’t take his eyes from her. Her mouth trembled. ‘Don’t be afraid,’ he told her. ‘They will let us stay here. Daniel has told us that.’ Daniel was the man from the YMCA, a kind man, who had helped them since they arrived in Glasgow. He had assured them over and over that their case was almost guaranteed. It was the ‘almost’ that worried them. He wondered what his mother would do if they were told they were to be sent back. The same as the man today? She had been through so much. She was strong. She had held them all together. But like a strong coat buffeted by the winds she was coming apart at the seams.
And again, he felt only anger at the man who died. How dare he bring this to them?
Chapter 6
Patrick watched himself on the screen. He’d never been on television before. Did he really look like that? He thought he resembled a lit match. A skinny, pale boy with a head of flaming red hair and freckles. This boy looked nervous. His lips were dry. Patrick watched him run his tongue along them. The boy nodded. ‘I saw everything,’ he was saying.
Did he really sound like that? Did he really have such a thick Scottish accent? That amazed him as he only ever thought in pure American, like the characters in all the films he watched.
‘And where were you when you saw this?’
The boy – he just couldn’t think of that boy as himself, as Patrick – the boy pointed up to the tower block. The camera followed his finger. ‘I was waiting for the lift. I was going to school.’
‘And you saw the whole thing?’
Again he nodded. Patrick remembered thinking he should be telling this story better, describing the man coming over the top of
Patrick dragged Cody away. Patrick and Cody were friends, and Mosi could never understand that friendship. ‘Leave Mosi be,’ he heard Patrick say, ‘he never does anybody any harm.’ And then, though his voice was soft, he heard Cody’s next words, the words he knew he wasn’t meant to hear.
‘So, are we still on for the night, Patrick?’
Chapter 5
Mosi’s mother looked worried when he got home that day. There was a strong police presence all over the estate. An incident van was parked almost at the entrance to his block of flats. There was a television news van there too. The spot where the man had fallen was marked out with police incident tape.
‘They will soon go, hooyo ,’ he tried to assure her.
She shook her head. ‘The boy who saw him fall, he lives in this block of flats. Three floors above us. They will be asking questions of everyone here. In case we saw something too. The man came from our country. They will think we might know him.’
He saw her hand shake as she put down his plate of food. His father clasped her fingers. ‘It will be all right, Uma. We saw nothing. We know nothing.’
‘Did you know this man, aabo ?’ Mosi asked him.
‘I talked to people who did. Hassan, his name was. They said he’d been worried, frightened about something, afraid . . .’
‘He was being sent back,’ his mother said.
‘I do not know. But I imagine, yes, he was afraid he was being sent back. His brother disappeared a few weeks ago. Afraid too of being sent back. It is a tragedy.’
‘They do not know why he was in that tower block,’ his mother said. ‘He lived on the other side of the estate.’
His father had an explanation. ‘There are many empty flats in that block.’ Mosi knew that was true. There had been talk of all these tower blocks being demolished and everyone moved to other parts of the city. His father went on. ‘I heard he was stowing food in one of them, so he could hide there if his application for asylum failed.’
His mother let out a long sigh. ‘Poor man, how desperate he must have been.’
Mosi still had no sympathy. Why could he not just have disappeared, the way his brother had disappeared? Why such a public death? He hated him for making his mother cry.
Mosi couldn’t take his eyes from her. Her mouth trembled. ‘Don’t be afraid,’ he told her. ‘They will let us stay here. Daniel has told us that.’ Daniel was the man from the YMCA, a kind man, who had helped them since they arrived in Glasgow. He had assured them over and over that their case was almost guaranteed. It was the ‘almost’ that worried them. He wondered what his mother would do if they were told they were to be sent back. The same as the man today? She had been through so much. She was strong. She had held them all together. But like a strong coat buffeted by the winds she was coming apart at the seams.
And again, he felt only anger at the man who died. How dare he bring this to them?
Chapter 6
Patrick watched himself on the screen. He’d never been on television before. Did he really look like that? He thought he resembled a lit match. A skinny, pale boy with a head of flaming red hair and freckles. This boy looked nervous. His lips were dry. Patrick watched him run his tongue along them. The boy nodded. ‘I saw everything,’ he was saying.
Did he really sound like that? Did he really have such a thick Scottish accent? That amazed him as he only ever thought in pure American, like the characters in all the films he watched.
‘And where were you when you saw this?’
The boy – he just couldn’t think of that boy as himself, as Patrick – the boy pointed up to the tower block. The camera followed his finger. ‘I was waiting for the lift. I was going to school.’
‘And you saw the whole thing?’
Again he nodded. Patrick remembered thinking he should be telling this story better, describing the man coming over the top of
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