Saving a Child From God, page 19
And there beneath the shallow water lay a child’s severed finger.
Ibrahim looked at the empty sky.
“Come back! Come back! Where is he? What have you done with him?”
But all he could hear was an echo of the crow’s cawing that sounded suspiciously like laughter.
Ibrahim opened his eyes in the dark.
Next to him Khayla lay sleeping.
There was a pall of sadness cloaking the room.
He swung his feet out of bed and sat up, knowing he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep.
He was thirsty. He quietly got up and made his way to the bathroom where he drank from the tap for a good minute. He heard Khayla call out something in her sleep and thought about attending to her, but silence quickly reclaimed the house.
Abdullah had been missing for nearly two weeks.
The police had appointed a Family Liaison Officer whose first job was to inform him that they needed Abdullah’s toothbrush in order to get a DNA sample to put on a national database. Such a request clearly pointed to them expecting to find a body, perhaps in very bad shape.
Ibrahim wiped his mouth and went to Abdullah’s bedroom. He flicked on the light, his eye drawn to the two-feet long paper model of Mecca’s Grand Mosque that they had built one afternoon together. He touched the foot-high minarets and peered down at the Kaaba. He’d always planned to accompany Abdullah to Mecca, to touch the Black Stone and begin circumambulating in perfect harmony with the countless other pilgrims as they worshipped the One True God.
Surely that was still going to happen? He’d pictured it in all its glory so many times. It was an image that lived and breathed in his head.
Inshallah.
And yet now as he looked down at the miniature mosque all he wanted to do was put his fist through it.
The impulse troubled him greatly.
He turned away and saw Abdullah’s Koran on the shelf above his bed. He took it down and began to read.
Your Lord is He that makes the ship go smoothly through the sea for you that you may ask of His grace, for He is most merciful to you. When distress seizes you at sea, you cry to nobody save Him, but when He brings you back safely to land, you turn away. Most ungrateful is man!
Ibrahim put the Koran back on the shelf and sat on the bed. He pulled open a bedside drawer and took out Abdullah’s plastic bead box that was crammed full of the gifts from the birds. He put it on his lap and opened the lid. He removed a blue Lego brick and placed it in the palm of his hand. He studied it intently, waiting for some flash of meaning.
None came.
He did the same with the broken light bulb and the piece of smooth green glass. He squeezed them hard and turned them over in front of his eyes. They did not help him understand what had happened nor provide any glint of a way forward.
Eventually he curled up on the small mattress. He dozed for a while, woken with a start by the cries of the birds. He got up and pushed aside a curtain to see them perched in the trees and lined up on the wall as the sky lightened.
He went to the kitchen and pulled out the bags of seeds and nuts from the cupboards. He stalked into the garden and pushed over both birdbaths.
“You don’t care about Abdullah!” he cried, getting as close as he could before flinging a handful of peanuts at the birds. He watched with satisfaction as some were struck, beating their wings in confusion.
“You just want a feed! That’s all you want!”
He fell to his knees with his shoulders shaking.
****
Professor Jeggert brought Abdullah out to the kitchen in a bid to cheer him up. They were going through a very difficult patch, although perhaps the boy was also suffering from a bit of light deprivation. Of course, he’d like to exercise him outdoors. A young boy needed to run around – it was healthy and normal – but there was too great a danger of him being seen or calling out. A treadmill might be the answer. There was just about room down there.
One thing was for sure: their lessons had completely stalled.
A test on Adam and Eve and the origins of life on Earth had seen him get every question wrong. It was possible that the boy had deliberately answered incorrectly. It was also possible he was quite stupid and hadn’t understood anything he’d been taught. The third possibility was the most worrying, though.
Perhaps the boy still believed the rubbish in his head.
What’s more, he’d shown no interest in the slides he’d put together about evolution and had simply sat at his desk refusing to ask or answer a single question. This was undoubtedly a shame as a great deal of time had been spent preparing them. He really thought Abdullah would have been interested in the photo of the fossilised remains of a two-hundred-million-year-old snake recently discovered in Brazil with its four tiny legs. Irrefutable evidence of the way snakes had developed and changed over time.
He sighed. It was never easy being a teacher.
He sat opposite Abdullah at the kitchen table with his laptop. The boy was moving his hand in a patch of sunlight, flexing his fingers as if trying to grab it.
“I was hoping you might help me today, Abdullah. Help me find a lady wife.” He smiled. “I think a professor should be married, don’t you? I’ve narrowed my choice down to three and I’d like your... opinion. What do you say?”
Abdullah carried on playing with the sunlight. He bent and twisted and lay with his back on the table so that the rays fell on his face.
“Sit up, Abdullah. Come on. Be a good boy. I’ve got something to show you.” Abdullah reluctantly complied, prompting him to turn the computer around so he could see the screen. “This one’s called Yulia. She’s forty and says she’s looking for a man aged forty to sixty so I qualify nicely. Do you like her, Abdullah?” He pointed at her profile photo which showed her sat in a field in a light summer dress with her legs curled up under her. “Does she look like a good person?”
Abdullah turned to face the sunlight again.
“Doesn’t she have nice hair? Do you know what we call that reddish-brown colour? No...? It’s called auburn. A very nice colour that goes with her green eyes. Shall we read a bit more about her? OK... Well, let’s see. It says she’s a very positive person, very kind and smart, affectionate with a sense of humour. Five-foot-five, sixty-two kilos. Doesn’t smoke and no tattoos. Works in banking and is willing to relocate. What do you think, Abdullah? Would she make a good step-mum?”
No response.
He tried again with Lana and Natali but Abdullah barely glanced at them. Time to try Plan B. A good teacher always had something else up his sleeve. He closed the laptop lid and slid across a writing pad, an envelope and a Biro.
“Now, Abdullah... I appreciate things have been a bit difficult for you lately and so I want to help.” He watched Abdullah pick up the plastic pen and try to snap it in half. “You’ve often asked about your mum and dad so I thought it would be a good idea if you wrote them a letter.”
Abdullah stopped trying to break the pen. “What?”
“You heard. I want you to write to your mummy and daddy. You can tell them whatever you like.”
The boy frowned, obviously wanting to ask more questions.
“They send their love by the way. They miss you very much and are hoping to come and visit you soon, but only if you’re a good student who passes his exams. So, do you want to write to them?”
He nodded. “What about an email? It’s faster.”
“Well, yes... but...” He cleared his throat. “I think we’ll start with paper and ink and see how we do. OK?”
“Yes.”
“Good boy. You write a letter and I’ll post it as soon as you’re finished. Do you want to begin?”
Abdullah hunched over the pad and wrote Dear Mummy and Daddy, concentrating so hard that his tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth.
The professor smiled and got up to make a cup of green tea.
“And I can write anything I want?”
“Anything. And if you need any help with spelling or words, then please ask. I’ll be only too happy to help.”
Professor Jeggert made the tea and sat opposite the boy overseeing his work while trying not to interfere too much. Abdullah wrote four pages over the next hour and seemed tired but excited upon completion. He pushed the pad across.
“Very good, Abdullah. What did you write about?”
He shook his head.
“Did you write about me?”
Abdullah picked at the top of the pen.
He smiled. “I bet you did, but don’t worry, I’m not going to read it.” He picked up the four pages, folded them in half and slid them into the envelope. “Do you want to lick the gum for me? I don’t like the taste. It’s all yucky.”
Abdullah enthusiastically complied. The letter was sealed. “When are you going to post it?”
“Now. I’m sure your mum and dad will be thrilled to hear from you. I just need your address.” Abdullah nodded and went to write on the envelope, but the professor stayed his hand. “Maybe it’d be better if I wrote. Your handwriting’s... not bad for a six year old, but mine’s a bit better and we do want the postman to be able to read it OK, don’t we?”
Abdullah told him and he printed it neatly. Then he stuck a stamp on and held it up for the boy to see.
“OK, time for you to pop back to your bedroom while I go to the post-box.”
Abdullah put up no fight as he locked the door. Maybe he should get him to write regular letters. On first impression it seemed like an excellent way of managing the boy.
The professor left the house and jumped in the car with the letter in his jacket pocket. Of course, he wasn’t going to post it. That would be self-destructive and therefore illogical, although he was tempted to read it. Perhaps the letter contained some more information about the key and how he’d got out.
He pulled the car over and twirled the letter in his hands. He patted it against a leg, wondering whether to open it.
Maybe later.
He put the car back into gear and parked near the pet store. He needed to build on Abdullah’s positive change in mood. And what could be better than buying him a nice cat? Take the focus off his education for a little while and allow him to relax. Give him a bit of animal therapy.
He was about to open the car door when he hesitated. Did Muslims have a problem with cats? They certainly didn’t care for dogs – no doubt related to Mohammed’s rampant OCD – but he was unable to recall any objection to cats.
He walked round to the pet store and was just getting out his wallet when he glanced at its window to see... no cat.
“Shit...”
He pushed the door open and was met by warm, slightly moist air and varied animal noises. The homely-looking woman with the short, grey hair was sitting behind the counter reading a magazine.
“What happened to the Siamese in the window?”
“Gone, love. Sold him yesterday. Sorry. Still got some kittens, though.” She pointed to a glass tank on the right.
He took a look and quickly decided against one. A kitten was cute but he didn’t want the hassle of housetraining one. “Nah.”
“I can order a Siamese if you like,” she said, getting up and coming round the counter. “We’ve got a regular supplier.”
“I wanted one now.”
She came closer. “You all right, love? You look a bit peaky. Wanna sit down?”
“No, no... I just...”
“Why don’t you take a look around? Maybe you’ll see something else that fits the bill.”
He nodded. What else might the boy like? He skirted past some bags of feed piled on top of one another to begin peering into the rows of cages and tanks. A green snake? Too weird. A pair of giant stick insects? Not exactly cuddly and they’d probably keel over in a couple of weeks. Some fish? Too much trouble to set up and besides he wouldn’t be able to stroke and play with them. Mice? A rabbit? A rabbit was a possibility but then he noticed a screeching grey parrot in the far corner. He moved closer to the foot-tall bird to admire its black bill and red tail feathers.
“What’s this?”
“An African Grey. Great pet. Good talker. A very smart bird.”
“Yeah? I like smart things.” The bird sidled along its wooden perch and lowered its head in anticipation of a scratch. “Does it need a lot of specialised care?”
“Not really. Just the usual fruit, seeds and nuts, but he does need attention and a stimulating environment. They’re not the best if you spend a lot of time away from the house. Might start plucking their feathers out.”
“That’s all right – I’m a bit of a home bird.”
She smiled. “He’s not cheap, but he’s hand reared and very tame.”
He poked a finger through the bars and scratched the bird’s neck. “How much?”
“Five hundred.”
He shrugged. “Not much more than the Siamese.” He looked at the bird again. It would be good if Abdullah could teach it to talk. That would require patience and probably provide a more satisfying interaction than with something as docile and passive as a rabbit.
“OK, I’ll have it.”
“A very wise choice.”
The professor paid for it and carried it to the car in its covered cage. He put it on the front seat and drove back carefully. He took the bird inside, removed the covering and lifted the cage to his face.
“Don’t make any noise. OK?” He put a finger against his lips. Then he knocked on Abdullah’s bedroom door. “Abdullah? It’s me. I want to come in.”
No answer. That wasn’t much of a surprise.
He knocked again. “Abdullah...? I’m going to open the door now.”
He turned the key and pushed the door inward. As usual, Abdullah was sitting on the bed. He held up the bird and smiled.
“Look what I got you. Isn’t he beautiful? And he’s all yours.”
Abdullah slowly stood.
The professor started walking down the stairs, carefully holding the cage up for maximum effect. “Can you think of a name for him?” The bird screeched, causing Abdullah to frown. “You can teach him to talk. Won’t that be fun?”
“Take it away.” Abdullah thrust both hands in his pockets. “I don’t want it.”
The professor stopped halfway down. “You don’t want it...? Oh, don’t be silly. It’s a beaut – ”
“Take it away!”
He stared at him. “But why?”
“Because it’s in a cage! It’s in a cage.” The bird squawked and jumped nervously around on its perches. “He’s not happy! Can’t you see? Get it out! Get it out of here!”
“OK, calm – ”
“Get it out!”
The professor trudged back up the stairs and locked the door behind him.
****
Chapter Thirteen
“She in there?”
Professor Jeggert strode past Melinda.
“Yes, but... Professor Jeggert!”
A moment later he barged into Ferninckle’s office to find her flat out on the couch with her head on a pillow. He grinned as she sat bolt upright without her glasses, looking for all the world like a giant startled mole.
“Well, well...” He folded his arms, amused by her flattened hair and the cushion marks on her face. “Feeling a bit stressed out, are we? The adult world got a little overwhelming again, did it, honey-bun? Hmm...? Needed a lie-down?”
Melinda hurried in. “I’m sorry, Professor Ferninckle. He just – ”
“It’s OK,” she said, holding up a palm. “We all know what the professor is like. I’ll deal with him.” Her voice went flat. “For the very last time.”
He smirked at Melinda and began shooing her out of the office. “Off you go then. Bye bye.” He shut the door and turned to see Ferninckle had managed to put her glasses on. “Just you and me now, kiddo.”
She stood and sought the sanctity of her desk.
“Professor Jeggert, you are early by...” She looked at her watch. “A good hour and ten minutes.”
“So what?” He sat down in front of her, following the butterfly with his eyes as it bumped around its glass prison. “Let’s just get this over with.”
Ferninckle took a breath, obviously trying to regain her composure. “This is all highly irregular but things have clearly come to a head and – ”
“Yeah, a nice big whitehead, full o’ pus.”
She stared at him. “You just don’t care anymore, do you?”
“No, I don’t. Get on with it and then we can both happily go our separate ways.”
“Very well.” She started looking round the desk, eventually opening a drawer.
“Oh, bloody hell, woman! Can’t you do anything without having a piece of paper to read from?”
She hesitated and then closed the drawer. “You’re right. I don’t need it.” She cleared her throat. “Professor Jeggert, it has come to my attention that you have stopped teaching the curriculum for the International Foundation Programme. Not only that, and much more seriously, you have been supplying alcohol to the students during the lesson. Is this correct?”
“You betcha, baby. We’ve been getting tiddly during Mr Bean and some Mind Your Language. The students love it. I must be their favourite teacher now.”
“Very well. Given that you have freely admitted these offences, I have no option but to – ”
“But just remember it was you who told me to be a bit more imaginative in my approach, that my lessons were a bit dry. Can’t win with you, can I?”
She stared at him. “It gives me no pleasure to – ”
“Don’t give me that. You’ve been wanting me gone pretty much since the first day you arrived. But before I toddle off, just tell me who ratted me out. Was it Fawaz? My little ostrich friend? Huh? Was he the one who got the thirty pieces of silver?”
“Professor Jeggert, I find your conduct, your utter lack of professionalism, to be appalling. In all my years of teaching, I’ve never known anything like it. You are suspended with immediate eff – ”
“Just tell me who ratted on me.”
“If you must know, a number of students came to see me. They were worried about their upcoming exams as you had stopped teaching them. Despite your best efforts, many of them still want to return to this university next semester to begin their undergraduate courses. And apart from that, it wasn’t hard to tell something strange was going on when there were at least a dozen students wandering drunk around the university corridors every day. You are suspended with – ”
