“WHAT do you remember?”
His head was filled with rocks and pebbles. The rattling noise in his head was either the cooling units or the petulant drum of his companion’s fingers on the bedframe. The cot was fashioned from the remains of a petrol car and his body weighed unevenly on the beaten metal frame. Zarius stood over him – his intent expression was as worried as he had ever seen.
“You gave us quite a nasty surprise, dear boy. Can you hear me?”
“Yes.”
“You must be frightfully tired but I need to check you are unharmed. You were talking in your sleep when you were lying here. Do you remember what you were saying?”
Jack shook his head. His mouth was too dry to speak
“What is the last thing you remember?”
He furrowed his brow. This was Khalid’s house. He was back in Sanaam and the room was his own. But where was Saira?
“The desert. I was in the desert. The sun was going down and we were talking and then – I don’t remember. How long have I been here?”
“She had to drag you up and down a sand dune and then through the streets of Sanaam. No-one would help her, of course. Do you know she’s cursed by the way? I suppose she told you. Anyway, she brought you back but you’ve had us very worried – running up a frightful temperature and mumbling about this and that.”
Jack tried to sit, but the bolts rattled in his brain. He scanned the room as best he could for the source of the buzzing. The cooling unit in the corner was too low-pitched. Zarius was looking at him intently with pale, unblinking eyes.
“What are you looking for Jack?”
“Can’t you hear it?!”
“Dear boy, I’m going to ask you something and I want you to be honest with me.”
The arrow was drawn from Jack’ head and the buzzing stopped. His head sunk into the bed and the gentle chug of the turbine was all he could hear.
“I know it’s been a bit dull hiding here in Sanaam…”
“I’ve not taken anything, Zarius. Honestly. Was I really shouting at Saira? I don’t remember.”
“Yes you were – some quite inventive insults apparently. Some words we’ve not heard for a long time… As for what’s wrong with you I’m not sure, my dear cousin. I’m not sure. But you need to get some rest. Go to sleep.”
Over the next few days, Jack did nothing.
He lay on the cot and saw no-one but Asif, who brought lentils and water. Three times a day. Khalid had looked into the room briefly but turned before Jack could address him. Despite the constant whirr of the air fans, Jack’s clothes were drenched in sweat but he didn’t have the strength to change them. There was no window but in the stillness of the night, Jack heard the picture of the street. Babies were crying, men coughed up workdust; others were drunk on homemade spirits, howling promises to the moon. Goats spluttered and chickens hawked their agreement. The trundling burr of a thousand distant cooling turbines filled the sky.
His thoughts returned on his own story. What was he doing in this improbable place? His father was dead, there was almost no doubt about it. He remembered their dragged-out, purgatorial meetings in dry but fashionable restaurants. That fist-clenching phrase. “Choose anything you want.” Did he really care whether who his father was? Let the two men fight among themselves, what was this foolish quest about finding a new bracelet? The smart thing would be to accept his father, or his uncle, whoever he now was, on the offer and go back to his old life of ease. But then… but then…
By the third day, Jack felt strong enough to leave the room and sit in the workshop watching Asif skilfully pick apart the junk. Khalid had been avoiding him. Saira and Zarius were nowhere to be seen.
His companion had said no more about his collapse but the accusation of his silence resonated guilt inside Jack – yes, a few weeks ago he probably would have been guilty of popping a Nectar tablet out of sheer boredom and frustration. But the experiences of being chased, learning something of the truth about his family and travelling to this place had given him new ideas. He was no longer the spoilt schoolboy from what seemed an age ago. Why didn’t Zarius give him credit for this?
Other than knowing he was blameless, Jack could not himself account for what happened in the desert, nor had any other explanation been offered for the fever which came and left so suddenly.
Darkness had smothered the sky when his cousin finally returned to the hotel, dressed in the luminous green overalls of a worksite labourer.
“Good news,” said Zarius, unperturbed by the spectacle he presented. “I have been in contact with our friend. He has done exactly what we asked. Very soon we shall be on our travels again but this time by airship – first class I hope. We shall meet our good friend Ibn Nahim in the morning. Be glad, young cousin because I shall require your assistance in this matter. Now, do you have a bathing costume?”