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The silence is filled with soft breathing.
I try again. ‘Hello?’
‘Ç’kemi,’ says Arben, speaking in Albanian.
‘Are you OK?’
‘Po.’
‘Where are you?’
‘At the police station. I leave today.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘To a children’s home.’
I’ve been to a few of those, I want to say, but I try to be positive. ‘They’re not so bad. The food is awful, but you get a room to yourself.’
Another long pause.
‘I saw Besart’s body,’ he says. ‘I know they showed me a photo, but I didn’t believe he was dead, not until . . .’
‘I’m sorry.’
He goes quiet, as though expecting more.
‘I know what it’s like to lose someone,’ I say. ‘My parents died when I was young.’
‘You’re an orphan?’
‘Yes.’
‘I wish I had drowned with the others.’
‘Don’t say that. You’ll be safe now and the police are looking for Jeta.’
‘How will she find me?’
‘That’ll be the easy part. You’re famous.’
‘What does famous mean?’ he asks.
I struggle to explain and it’s probably not the right word. Cyrus would know what to say.
I try again. ‘You’re the boy who survived. She’ll find you.’
The words sound convincing, but being famous didn’t help me. I was the girl in the secret room. Angel Face. Nobody came to claim me.
‘Will you visit me?’ asks Arben, who has to go.
‘Yes. Call me when you get there. Good luck.’ I don’t know if he hears the last two words.
Out in the yard, the children are still playing with the puppies. I know all of the dogs’ names because most of them were dumped on our doorstep or delivered by members of the public. I bottle fed some of those puppies – the ones that hadn’t been weaned – and I kept them warm with electric blankets or with my own body. I wanted to save every one of them because they were orphans like me.
* * *
I was sitting next to Mina, reciting our six times table, when the message came to the classroom. My teacher took me to the administration office, where a young policeman was waiting. He stood with his cap in his hands, looking at his shoes, saying that I was needed at home.
