Hidden by Miriam Halahmy

Author:Miriam Halahmy
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Holiday House
Published: 2016-08-15T04:00:00+00:00

21. Secrets and Lies

As I stroll home from my paper route the next morning I get a mega shock. In front of our house is a police car. Have they discovered the hut and found Mohammed? What’s Mum going to say? I’m about to be arrested, maybe even deported.

“Had a burglary?” It’s Mrs. Saddler, nosing around as usual. She’s leaning over her garden gate, Jeremy sniffing at her heels. “Lot of comings and goings at your house lately,” she goes on, eyeing me curiously.

I don’t even dare to speak; my voice would give everything away.

My legs are practically collapsing as I go into the house. Two huge policemen are standing in the living room in stab vests, their radios crackling.

Mum’s looking quite bright and cheerful with her bad leg up on the sofa.

“These two gentlemen are looking for smugglers. Your grandpa would have loved this,” she says with a laugh.

“You must be Alix?” says the biggest policeman. He has a rough voice and seems to shoot his words out as if from the barrel of a gun.

I stare warily at him through half-closed eyes. What if he can read my mind and he already knows everything about Mohammed and he’s just waiting for me to give myself away? At least we don’t do torture in this country. Or do we? Mohammed’s ruined back swims in front of my eyes. I feel sick.

“We’re going house-to-house. Want to know if you’ve seen anything suspicious on the beaches,” the big policeman barks out.

I stare at him for a couple of seconds and then bend down to unclip Trudy’s leash, playing for time. This is my chance to put things right, to tell the truth and then let them decide on the right thing to do.

But what is the right thing? If I give Mohammed away they could just shove him on a plane back to Iraq.

So I say in a bored voice, “Nothing ever happens down here, does it?”

That’s it, then, I think with a shiver. I’ve lied to the police. I bury my face in Trudy’s neck and wait for the handcuffs to descend.

“You must walk on the beach every day with your dog,” says the other policeman. His voice is friendly—they’re playing Good Cop, Bad Cop, like in the movies, I decide—but he actually makes me feel even more nervous. He’s definitely trying to trip me up and I keep my face hidden.

Good Cop goes on, “Now she’s a blue roan cocker spaniel, isn’t she? Lovely dogs. Had one myself once. What’s her name?”

I look up and see Mum giving me “don’t be so rude” looks from the sofa and now I’m scared of making her suspicious. It’s exhausting trying to juggle about ten different personalities in the air at once.

“Trudy,” I say in a steady sort of voice, hoping they might think I’m actually being friendly. Mum settles back on the sofa. Phew! One down, two to go.

“Well, have you and Trudy noticed anyone strange wandering around? We’ve seen evidence of someone sleeping on the beach by the yacht club.

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