Sandman by Anna Legat

Author:Anna Legat
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Sandman
ISBN: 9781786154217
Publisher: Accent Press
Published: 2019-12-16T16:00:00+00:00

XVII

They decide to set off early to beat the morning traffic. Bath is a bottleneck throughout the day, so they will leave before six even though it is dark and miserable outside, and Malik in particular may find it impossible to get out of bed. But he is the first one up and going, splashing in the bathroom, cursing the cold, but soldiering on nonetheless. It would help if he wore something more than just his boxers, Ahmed thinks. His limbs are long and gristly, and his torso painfully skinny. His ribs are stamped into his skin. If you look at him, Malik is no more than a pubescent boy. Come to think about it, he is just that, having only just turned twenty.

They leave without breakfast – too excited to think about eating, not to mention that the fridge is empty and has been since Ahmed joined Malik on his late-night net surfing. Then the Snapchats, fast and furious; then their talks, meticulous planning and plotting. Ahmed didn’t need convincing. After that day at the school gate, he has become duly converted to the cause. It wasn’t a religious conversion, it wasn’t as if he had suddenly experienced some sort of road to Damascus moment. In simple terms, it was Ahmed’s pride – it wouldn’t let him take humiliation without a fight. Ahmed wasn’t one for turning the other cheek. He would spit back in their faces – an eye for an eye. He embraced the cause, body and soul.

Frost has settled onto the windscreen; it’s almost impossible to scrape it off. They leave the car engine running for a few minutes, the fan spinning and blowing hot air, while they go back into the flat for a cup of tea. It isn’t just the car that needs warming up.

On the landing, they run into Harry, who is taking out the rubbish. ‘You’re up bright and early,’ he beams. He looks very much bright and bushy-tailed himself. He is always up at the crack of dawn – old people usually are; there is something in their constitution that won’t let them waste any time of day. It could have something to do with the imminence of dying – the carpe diem thing. Something sharp stabs Ahmed in the gut, but he doesn’t allow himself to acknowledge it. He knows it’s fear, and fear is weakness. He refuses to think beyond the here and now. On reflection, this is also a form of carpe diem. He smiles back at Harry. They’re on the same page even if Harry doesn’t realise that.

‘Looking good, Harry!’ Malik says.

‘I am good,’ the old man chimes. ‘Will is coming. We got a letter yesterday: he’s flying in from Australia – this Saturday!’

‘That’s good news!’

Something is still drilling inside Ahmed’s stomach – that knife being turned and twisted... ‘This Saturday...’ he echoes Harry, hopelessly.

‘You must meet him. I know you’ll like each other.’

‘Yeah... I’d like that...’ Ahmed is feeling positively sick. Saturday, of all days...

‘Are you two off to somewhere?’ Harry asks, eyeing Malik’s backpack.

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