you are doing on the World Wide Web. I am not a spy,” Abdullah says, reading his mind. “Myself, I am only reading the newspapers, as I have always done. My brother and my sister’s husband, they come here to do the same. We have not been doing this for some days because your family are here. I was looking to see if there was any news of your father.” He stands up and walks off, leaving Khalid standing there, unable to say anything back.
He feels guilty for a moment, but quickly forgets as he checks his e-mails. There are three: one from Tariq, suggesting the time to play Bomber One tonight; one from Nico, rambling on about how he’s downloaded a bunch of songs for free on his MP3 player; plus one from a kid at school called Jamie, who’s doing his history coursework on Galileo too.
“He could have had a stroke,” someone says from the hall, their thoughts clashing with the lovely smell of curry that’s building in the air.
After a while Khalid closes the computer down and steps out of the dark cupboard, surprised to see Abdullah is back again with his wife. They are smiling at everyone and their arms are loaded with dishes of steaming food.
“Bottle gourd curry and chapattis. Chickpeas too for you!” Abdullah says.
Someone bangs on the door, too calmly for it to be urgent news about Dad. Another neighbor , Khalid thinks, heading down the hallway and opening the door to a familiar face.
“Hiya, how’s it going?” Jim smiles. “Just thought I’d pop in on my way to the airport. Everything OK?”
Khalid shakes his head. “Nah, Dad’s not here.” Mum and the aunties disappear from the hall after seeing it isn’t anyone with important news.
“We still, like, don’t know what happened,” Khalid says, hogging the doorway. Hearing Abdullah and his wife offer to put the food out in the kitchen, all of a sudden Khalid’s stomach twitches with hunger.
“Have you checked the hospitals?” Jim asks.
“The neighbors have.” Khalid nods, all of a sudden wanting to talk about something else in case he gets worked up again. “We’re just about to have some food. Do you want to join us? One more mouth won’t make a difference round here.”
“Nah, I’ve gotta go. Thanks, though. Just wanted to see how things were going. Wish it was better news.” Jim sighs. “Well, best of luck, mate. Hope you enjoy the rest of your Easter holiday.”
“Thanks.” Khalid closes the door as Jim jumps back in his taxi. Remembering Easter at home, a picture of his town, Rochdale, flashes through Khalid’s mind. Suddenly he’s walking with his mates down a pretty cobbled street—York Street. The shops are crammed with chocolate Easter eggs as they make their way to the shopping arcade. He feels such a strong connection to the lovely old mill town that for the first time in his life he realizes he loves it there. Then Abdullah’s suddenly behind him with a suspicious look on his face.
“Yeah, what?” Khalid asks, feeling annoyed again.
“Who’s that man?” he says, expecting an answer immediately.
“Just some bloke.” Khalid’s tempted to tell him he’s a grenade thrower, but stops himself, not trusting Abdullah to take it as a joke. “I met him in the market. He’s a student in London and he helped me find the address of the flat Dad went to.”
“What else?”
“Nothing else. What do you mean?” says Khalid, thinking, None of your business .
“What things did he tell you?” Abdullah asks.
“Things? What do you mean? Nothing. He’s from Liverpool. He’s English. Look, I’m starving. I haven’t eaten anything proper since yesterday.” With that, Khalid wanders off. He suspects Abdullah knows more about his dad’s disappearance than he’s letting on. That suspicious look on his scarred face isn’t right and the sick feeling Khalid has in his stomach won’t go away. Luckily, when Abdullah comes to get some food he doesn’t mention anything about Jim in front of the others.
Later
He feels guilty for a moment, but quickly forgets as he checks his e-mails. There are three: one from Tariq, suggesting the time to play Bomber One tonight; one from Nico, rambling on about how he’s downloaded a bunch of songs for free on his MP3 player; plus one from a kid at school called Jamie, who’s doing his history coursework on Galileo too.
“He could have had a stroke,” someone says from the hall, their thoughts clashing with the lovely smell of curry that’s building in the air.
After a while Khalid closes the computer down and steps out of the dark cupboard, surprised to see Abdullah is back again with his wife. They are smiling at everyone and their arms are loaded with dishes of steaming food.
“Bottle gourd curry and chapattis. Chickpeas too for you!” Abdullah says.
Someone bangs on the door, too calmly for it to be urgent news about Dad. Another neighbor , Khalid thinks, heading down the hallway and opening the door to a familiar face.
“Hiya, how’s it going?” Jim smiles. “Just thought I’d pop in on my way to the airport. Everything OK?”
Khalid shakes his head. “Nah, Dad’s not here.” Mum and the aunties disappear from the hall after seeing it isn’t anyone with important news.
“We still, like, don’t know what happened,” Khalid says, hogging the doorway. Hearing Abdullah and his wife offer to put the food out in the kitchen, all of a sudden Khalid’s stomach twitches with hunger.
“Have you checked the hospitals?” Jim asks.
“The neighbors have.” Khalid nods, all of a sudden wanting to talk about something else in case he gets worked up again. “We’re just about to have some food. Do you want to join us? One more mouth won’t make a difference round here.”
“Nah, I’ve gotta go. Thanks, though. Just wanted to see how things were going. Wish it was better news.” Jim sighs. “Well, best of luck, mate. Hope you enjoy the rest of your Easter holiday.”
“Thanks.” Khalid closes the door as Jim jumps back in his taxi. Remembering Easter at home, a picture of his town, Rochdale, flashes through Khalid’s mind. Suddenly he’s walking with his mates down a pretty cobbled street—York Street. The shops are crammed with chocolate Easter eggs as they make their way to the shopping arcade. He feels such a strong connection to the lovely old mill town that for the first time in his life he realizes he loves it there. Then Abdullah’s suddenly behind him with a suspicious look on his face.
“Yeah, what?” Khalid asks, feeling annoyed again.
“Who’s that man?” he says, expecting an answer immediately.
“Just some bloke.” Khalid’s tempted to tell him he’s a grenade thrower, but stops himself, not trusting Abdullah to take it as a joke. “I met him in the market. He’s a student in London and he helped me find the address of the flat Dad went to.”
“What else?”
“Nothing else. What do you mean?” says Khalid, thinking, None of your business .
“What things did he tell you?” Abdullah asks.
“Things? What do you mean? Nothing. He’s from Liverpool. He’s English. Look, I’m starving. I haven’t eaten anything proper since yesterday.” With that, Khalid wanders off. He suspects Abdullah knows more about his dad’s disappearance than he’s letting on. That suspicious look on his scarred face isn’t right and the sick feeling Khalid has in his stomach won’t go away. Luckily, when Abdullah comes to get some food he doesn’t mention anything about Jim in front of the others.
Later
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