No Safe Place Read Online Free PDF Page A

throat.
    â€œYou all think paradise awaits you in England,” he said. “Think again. The British don’t want you. The British don’t want me and I was born there.”
    The more he drank, the more he switched his languages between English and French. He shouted sometimes and mumbled at others, so the migrants could not follow what he was saying. They could guess, though. They’d heard it all before.
    â€œSure, I bring you over the Channel for money,” he said. “A man’s got a right to earn a living. But I also do it for revenge. Each of you mongrels who lands on the Queen’s soil is like a poke in the eye to Her Majesty.” Then he sang some lines of “God Save the Queen,” substituting “save” and “live” with words that were rude and vulgar.
    On and on he went, ranting and drinking. He didn’t even seem to notice when it started to rain.
    Abdul pulled up the collar of his jacket, but the gesture meant nothing. He was already wet.
    â€œAnd then on top of it, I get saddled with a kid. A useless insect of a kid. Afraid of his own shadow. Boy! Get up here!”
    The boy didn’t move. “I…the rudder…”
    â€œKurd-turd — you take the rudder. Send the brat up here.”
    â€œHe can hear you from his seat,” Abdul said. “We all can.”
    â€œWell, maybe I don’t want you all to hear. Maybe I want a private moment between uncle and nephew.”
    â€œThen it would be better to do that on the shore,” said Cheslav.
    The smuggler reached out and slugged the Russian. His seatmate, the Uzbek, grabbed hold so he wouldn’t go over the side.
    â€œHold it like this,” the boy said to Abdul, handing him the rudder. “It’s not hard.”
    â€œYou don’t have to go up there,” Abdul said.
    The boy didn’t answer.
    Balancing with his hands on the shoulders of the migrants, the boy walked the length of the little boat. The others kept him from falling as the boat rocked violently back and forth.
    â€œHere he is,” the smuggler said, grabbing the boy’s arm. “The cause of all my sorrow. My Jonah, my millstone. I had a good life until you came along. I had a woman — you don’t think I could get a woman, do you, mongrels? But the kid came along, and she left. ‘You’re work enough,’ she said to me. ‘I’m not looking after someone else’s kid.’”
    The smuggler’s big hand went down on top of the boy’s head. He tangled his fat fingers in the boy’s long, fine hair. Even in the dark and the rain, Abdul could see the boy wince. But he did not make a sound.
    â€œYou’re bad luck. You’re an unwanted puppy, aren’t you?” the smuggler said, bringing his face low and breathing his foulness right into the boy’s nostrils. “You know what we do to unwanted puppies? We do to them what the sailors in the Bible did to their Jonah. We throw them overboard.”
    The next movements were swift and sudden and seemed to come from all over the boat.
    The smuggler picked up the boy by his hair and moved to toss him out of the boat. At almost the same instant, the Uzbek jumped from his seat and flung himself at the smuggler.
    The boat rocked viciously, the Channel water spilling in as each side dipped low.
    â€œBail!” yelled Abdul, but the others were already doing that, even while they screamed in fear.
    The smuggler, clumsy and drunk, tried to shuck off his attacker.
    A wave decided it. Over the bow went the three of them, the smuggler still clutching the boy. The big man fought the water, trying to keep himself afloat. He was forced to release his fingers from his nephew’s hair. Every time he yelled and cursed, the sea flowed into his open mouth.
    The boy was now loose, carried away by the sea. The Uzbek pushed off the smuggler, who had managed to grab hold, and went out