Chapter One
It wasnāt until we were halfway through France that we noticed Maretta wasnāt talking. She sat very still in the back of the van and watched us all with bright eyes.
I crawled across the mattress to her. āMaretta will you tell us a story?ā
Maretta sighed and turned her head away.
John was doing the driving. He was driving fast with one hand on the wheel. John was Marettaās husband. He had brought her along at the last minute only because, I heard him tell my mother, she wasnāt well.
Bea glared at me.
āMarettaĀ .Ā .Ā .ā I began again dutifully, but Maretta placed her light white hand on the top of my head and held it there until my skull began to creep and I scrambled out from under it.
āYou didnāt ask her properly,ā Bea hissed. āYou didnāt say please.ā
āWell, you ask her.ā
āItās not me who wants the story, is it?ā
āBut you said to ask. I was asking for you.ā
āShhh.ā Our mother leaned over from the front seat. āYouāll wake Danny. Come and sit with me and Iāll read you both a story.ā
I looked hopefully at Bea. āOh all right,ā she relented, and we jumped over Dannyās sleeping body and clambered up between the two front seats.
āāWill you walk a little faster?ā said a whiting to a snail. āThereās a porpoise close behind us, and heās treading on my tail.āā
I sat warm against her and joined in when she got to āWill you, wonāt you, will you, wonāt you, will you join the dance?ā āWill you, wonāt you, will you, wonāt you, will you join the dance?ā until we heard the rustle of Dannyās sleeping-bag as he sat up in the back.
āDāyou want me to take over soon?ā he yawned.
John kept his eyes on the road. āHalf an hour.ā
Danny was my special friend. The first time weād met heād magicked a sweet, a white sugared almond, out of a pipe for me. I had been waiting ever since for a good opportunity to ask him to do it again. Now he was always either driving or sleeping. Or Bea was there. Bea was two years older than me and there were some things you had to keep secret about. Anyway, I thought, however magic Danny said these almonds were, theyād be bound to run out like any others.
That evening we stopped to cook. My mother made soup with carrots and potatoes in a metal pot on a camping stove. We sat on the grass verge and ate.
āMaretta?ā My mother held out a bowl to her.
Maretta looked at the ground.
āMaretta would you like some soup?ā
She turned her face away.
My motherās hand began to tremble. It made the spoon rattle on the tin side of the bowl as she stretched it out to her.
We waited.
āWell, all the more for us,ā she said finally, pouring the soup back into the pot. Her voice was high and tight. Maretta smiled serenely.
A truck roared by. A wave of hot and cold laughter swept over me and I bit my lip and stirred my spoon noisily.
John stood in front of my mother, between her and Maretta. āSheāll be all right once we get to Marrakech. Sheāll be all right.ā He put his arm around my motherās waist. āI was married to her for four years. I should know.ā
She let her head rest limply on his shoulder. āI still think we should take her back.ā
They stood by the side of the road rocking gently from side to side.
āDanny?ā I felt this might be my lucky moment. āWill you magic me a sweet?ā
Bea, who was sitting nearer than I thought, raised her arched eyebrows. I screwed up my face in warning.
āDamn and blast.ā Danny slapped his hand on his knee. āIāve gone and forgotten my pipe.ā He lowered his voice and said with a laugh, āWell maybe we should go back to London after all.ā And he squeezed my disappointed face between his fingers.
Late the following afternoon we arrived at Algeciras and drove the van on to the ferry. We got out and stood on deck. Bea and I leant against the railings and waved enthusiastically at the straggle of Spaniards on the quay. The air was thick with the smell of fish and oil. Some men in blue overalls waved back. Almost before we lost sight of Spain, Morocco began to appear at the other end of the boat. A long flat shadow across the water.
āLand ahoy!ā Bea shouted out over the sea. āLand ahoy!ā
We ran fast from one end of the boat to the other waving goodbye to Spain and shouting āLand ahoy!ā to Morocco. The sun was sinking fast and the gulls had stopped circling. As we leant over the railings, Morocco faded into the night and we could only guess at the layers of blackness where the sea stopped and the land began. We went back to the van. Maretta was sitting in the front seat.
āWhere are the others?ā I asked, climbing in, forgetting for a minute.
She didnāt answer. Bea stood by the door.
āCome on. Letās go and find them.ā
āWould you like to come?ā I touched Marettaās hair. It was thick and damp with dirt.
Bea pulled my arm. āIāll race you to the deck.ā
Maretta didnāt move. Not even her eyes.
āAll right then,ā I said, and I started after her on a hopeless challenge.
The ship was lit now by the white froth of the waves. We edged along where earlier we had run. At the front of the boat we heard laughter and snatches of familiar voices. We crept forward, our eyes on the red tips of cigarettes.
āLand ahoy!ā Bea jumped out of the darkness and put her hands over my motherās eyes. She screamed with mock alarm.
āYour money or your life.ā
Mum put her hands in the air and pleaded for mercy. āI donāt have any money,ā she said. And everybody laughed.
A slow, low hoot rose into the air and we all jumped. Danny picked me up and swung me over his shoulder. āRight. Back to the van,ā he said.
I called to Bea as I hung, the blood rushing to my head, āIāll race you,ā and I drummed my hands on Dannyās back to make him go faster.
We sat in the dark in a queue of cars waiting for our turn to drive off the ferry. My mother showed us our photographs under hers in a black leather passport.
āIn a minute a man will come to check that itās really us,ā she said, tucking my hair behind my ears. John was in the driving seat, and Danny and Maretta were awake in the back. The line moved slowly forward car by car.
āOnce weāre through customs it should only take a couple of hours along the coast road and weāll be in Tangier,ā Danny said. He talked with a rolled cigarette unlit and hanging between his lips. āI just wish theyād get on with it.ā
We were edging now towards a white barrier. Two men in uniform inspected each car before the barrier lifted into the sky and let them through.
There was a tapping on the glass. We sat very still and John rolled down the window, letting in a blast of cold and salty air and a whiskery face with bright blue eyes. āHi, where you heading?ā he said, sticking his head right in and peering at us in the semi-darkness.
āTangier tonightĀ .Ā .Ā . and then on to Marrakech.ā
āHey, Iām heading that way myself. Dave. Call me Dave.ā And he rested his elbows in the open window and smiled.
Dave ambled along beside us as we neared the barrier. āSo this is your first trip, youāll love it, you wonāt want to leave. Where you from? Let me guess? London. Forget London, man. Marrakech. Thatās where itās at.ā He had a scarf tied round his head and his pale ginger hair hung over it in strands. He had no bag and no coat. āHey brother,ā he slapped John on the shoulder, āyouāre going to need some introductions. Iāll tell you what. Iāll ride into Tangier with you. What do you say?ā And he whipped open the van door and leapt in.
Dave settled himself in the back.
āHey lady, how you doing?ā he grinned at Maretta.
She didnāt answer.
Another face appeared at the window. A dark, serious face with a thick moustache. My mother leant over and handed him our stack of passports. He flicked through them and glanced at us each in turn. A quick flick of a glance and he handed them back. The customs man nodded towards Dave who was hovering on a mound of cushions by the back doors. He said something I didnāt understand. John and my mother both shook their heads but Dave stuck out his long white neck and nodded. The officer was silent for a moment and then he jerked his thumb backwards. He was telling the van to turn around. Back, round, and on to the boat. Back towards Spain.
The barrier stayed firmly closed.
We ate our breakfast in Algeciras. Bread rolls and Fanta. Maretta sipped a cup of black coffee and forgot to wipe away the marks it left on either side of her mouth. Mum said it was lucky they hadnāt stamped āundesirablesā in our passports. She said if we saw Dave or anyone who looked like Dave at the barrier at Tangier we mustnāt talk to him.
āIs it very hideous to be an undesirable?ā Bea asked. Hideous was Beaās and my favourite word. āHideousā and āKinkyā. They were the only words we could remember Maretta ever having said.
āHideous kinky. Hideous kinky,ā I chanted to myself.
āIt isĀ .Ā .Ā . if you want to get into Morocco,ā Mum answered.
When we arrived in Tangier later that day after a short and sunny second crossing there was no Dave in sight. The officers waved us through with only a glance at our passports and everyone except Maretta shouted and yelled as loud as they could to celebrate.