Bird Summons by Leila Aboulela

Author:Leila Aboulela [Aboulela, Leila]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780802149152
Publisher: Grove Atlantic
Published: 2020-01-29T16:37:04+00:00

Chapter Eight

Moni walked around looking for the boy. She scrutinised every child she came across. It occurred to her that perhaps his holiday had come to an end and he had left the loch. This dismayed her. Not only because she would miss him but because they had parted on unfriendly terms. She chided herself for not handling the situation better. Why had she over­reacted to him saying that his name was Adam? Why hadn’t she, from the beginning, made attempts to contact his family? These thoughts beat her up as she walked around searching the playgrounds, the tennis courts, the public rooms inside the monastery. She even found herself at the indoor swimming pool, a congested, damp place where people looked indistinguishable in their swimming clothes and she looked odd, fully dressed.

She wandered into the refectory and recognised it as the room Salma had spoken about. It had been empty when Salma first saw it but now there were several people. Three teenagers were playing billiards. A mother sat on a tartan upholstered armchair while her children played with a puzzle on the floor. The room had the effect of stillness on Moni, of arrival. She suddenly did not want to leave or keep searching for the boy. Here was peace and plenty, a connection to all that was good and right. Here was something of a replacement. She chose a high armchair in the furthest corner of the room, near the window. She sat and suddenly felt exhausted, her throat sore as if she had been frantically running around the whole of the estate, shouting out his name. But she hadn’t done that. She had simply walked around without saying a word. Her calves felt heavy as if they were swollen. According to Salma, she ate too much salt and needed more exercise. What would it be like to care again about her body? To find the time and the willpower. Pull her stomach in as she pushed Adam’s wheelchair, eat more fruit and vegetables. It sounded simple enough. Sometimes, she received emails about courses especially for carers, yoga or art classes, coffee mornings or even first-aid workshops.

Her phone, dormant in the cottage because of the poor signal, suddenly came to life. Every day, from the grounds, she phoned Adam’s care home to check up on him, but she had not switched on her data. Now the wireless signal picked up messages from her mother and from Murtada. Missed calls too. The same reproach, the same disregard for her here and now. A new angle of attack from Murtada. You are oblivious to my own needs and deprivations. If you’re able to leave your son with strangers, then why didn’t you come to me instead of going off on holiday with your friends? I’ve been patient but you have no compassion. A direct command from her father demanding an immediate and urgent call. She called home without hesitation, alarmed because the message had been sent a day ago. Her parents’ faces glowed from the screen.

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