Page 46 of Never Tear Us Apart
He frowns at me from below the peak of his cap. ‘You want Elias?’ he asks.
‘Yes.’ I nod. ‘Do you know when he will be back?’
‘I know. I know everything,’ he tells me. ‘You follow.’
There’s something about him, the way he’s deadly serious about living this adventure, that reminds me ofher– a child flirting with danger and the dangerous, because no harm can possibly ever come to them. Confident and frightened in one breath, living in make-believe to get through another day. My instinct is to scoop him into a hug and take him home to his family. And yet the last time I followed that instinct, it caused all the harm.
So, I don’t try to save this little boy. I follow him instead.
He leads me through dusty, empty streets, the residents of Rabat having taken shelter inside out of the worst heat of the afternoon. The boy marches on, setting quite the pace, occasionally lifting his cap to wipe his brow on the sleeve of his shirt,revealing the prominent bones in his neck and shoulders. By the time he leads me into a quiet shaded courtyard, I am desperate for water, my hair is clinging to my head in damp curls and my yellow dress sticks to my back and breasts.
In one corner of the courtyard, sitting at a table under the shade of an old grape vine, is Elias with two male acquaintances. They are eating from a plate ofpastizzi, little pastries filled with ricotta or mince and peas, and drinking bottles of beer. The bottles glisten with perspiration, like they have been chilled. How much does Elias charge for a cold beer, I wonder.
But when I start towards the table, the boy bars my way with his skinny arm.
‘Name?’ he asks.
‘Maia Borg.’
He removes his hat as he approaches the table, then whispers in Elias’s ear. His eyes go wide and round with awe as Elias makes a gesture to an unseen waitress, who brings over a small packet wrapped in newspaper. Meat, probably. I’ve seen more than a dozen children just like this boy, looking for a hero amidst terrible hardship. He is in awe of these men drinking cold beers at a shaded table who can give him food as if they are gods dealing in manna. I fear for him.
I wait as he trots back towards me, holding his prize close against his chest. The two men that were at the table melt away into the shadows. It seems Elias wants to be alone with me.
‘You may go,’ he says, and the boy leaves, presumably to go back to his station at the catacombs.
‘Miss Borg!’ Elias greets me with an expansive gesture. ‘Take a seat. I see you are not used to the heat of the afternoon. Here, let me send for another beer.’
He gestures at a slender girl standing in the doorway, who turns on her heel at once to do his bidding.
‘You have my items?’ I ask him, glancing at his two companions lurking under the arches, each openly leering at where my dress sticks to my damp skin. I take the balance of payment that Sal gave me out of my pocket and place it on the table.
‘Ah yes, they are here.’ Elias picks up the folded notes, takes a small packet from his shirt pocket and lays it on the table.
But as I reach for it, he closes his hand over my wrist.
‘There is an extra charge,’ he tells me with a smile, his gaze travelling to my breasts.
‘We have paid what was agreed,’ I remind him. I try to pull my wrist away, but he holds it firm. Any fear I might have felt is washed away by fury.
‘Yes, but you see, you need these papers. And I suspect the reason you need them isn’t one that you would be happy for the authorities to know. So, I’mrenegotiating.’
‘I don’t have any more money,’ I tell him. I learnt a long time ago never to let men like this see any fear or weakness in you. The moment you show vulnerability, they will treat you like prey for the taking.
‘I will accept payment in kind.’ His wet lips curl into a smile, revealing yellow teeth with flecks of peas caught between them.
‘I suggest you let me go at once,’ I say evenly. ‘If you don’t, you will regret it.’
I have no idea what my next move is, but I know enough to push my luck until it has run out. This time, it hasn’t.
‘Unhand that young lady!’ The count appears at the entrance of the courtyard, striding towards us.
Elias drops my hand and stands to greet the nobleman. I find my legs don’t quite have the strength to do the same.
‘You will give my friend her items immediately, Elias.’ Nicco looks cool and elegant in white slacks and a shirt open at the neck. His black hair is concealed under a Panama hat.
‘Signor Conte,’ Elias bows, grovelling. It’s pleasing. ‘Of course. I didn’t realise that she . . .’
‘You embarrass me,’ Nicco tells him. ‘Your role is to provide a service for those already in hardship. Once a bargain is struck, the deal is done. Don’t let me catch you trying such tactics again – on friends of mine or on anyone on this island, do you hear me? We want the goodwill of the people, not their hate. Now, get out of my sight.’
