Page 28 of Storm Child


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Arben’s breath catches in his throat.

‘Who is it?’ asks Carlson.

Arben runs a finger over Besart’s face, his hand trembling. ‘My brother.’ He looks at Evie, wanting an explanation.

‘Your brother is dead,’ she explains.

‘No. No. No. Not true.’

‘I’m sorry,’ says Evie.

Arben is sobbing.

‘I think that’s enough,’ I say.

Carlson grudgingly agrees, sliding the computer tablet into its case.

‘Motra?’ asks Arben. ‘Jeta. My sister.’

‘Are there any young women among the dead?’ I ask.

Carlson shakes his head.

13

Evie

The police are packing things away – the cameras, microphones and extra chairs. Arben has become an afterthought, still propped up in bed, watching them leave. The interpreter has discovered the tray of sandwiches and is stuffing his pockets like he hasn’t eaten for a week.

‘Would you like a sandwich, Arben?’ I ask loudly.

The interpreter mumbles something with his mouth full of food and crumbs clinging to his moustache. He grabs his hat and heads for the door. Arsehole!

I’m alone with Arben, trying to think of something to say. Cyrus would know. He’s good with words and deals with stuff like this.

‘Why did you want to come here?’ I ask, instantly regretting the question.

Arben opens his hand and examines the soggy tissue within, as if it might hold the answer.

‘Why did you?’ he whispers.

It’s a simple enough question. I could tell him that I grew up reading Mama’s old copies of Hello! magazine, which were full of stories about famous people who lived in manor houses, or that Agnesa dreamed of marrying Prince Harry and living in a castle, but the truth is, I had no choice. I was only nine years old.

Cyrus knocks gently on the door and signals that we’re leaving.

‘Are you coming back?’ asks Arben.

I don’t know what to say. I grab the drawing pad he was using and jot down my mobile number.

‘If you need someone to talk to, you call me, OK?’

He takes the page and folds it into squares, then puts it into the pocket of his pyjamas.

Outside in the corridor, I have to run to catch up to Cyrus.

‘Where are we going?’

‘Home.’

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