Chapter 30: Welcome to Paradise - My Name Is Samim

I spend the weekend hiding in my room. Rita and Ayan try to lure me out for bike rides, but I’m too embarrassed to show my face.

On Monday morning, Miss Brown hands me the first pill.

“Every morning, after breakfast,” she says, watching me swallow it.

I nod, staring to the side.

I hate these meds. They used to make me feel drowsy at the detention centre. Sometimes I’d get so weak I’d struggle to speak. But I’ll take them and do whatever it takes to show everyone I’m sorry and that I’m trying to be better.

After breakfast, Miss Nadia and Mr Higgins arrive for my interview.

In the study, Mr Higgins looks at me as I slouch on the chair across from him.

“Hello Samim,” he says. “How are you feeling today?”

“Okay?” I answer, but it sounds more like a question.

“Good. Let’s begin then,” he says, clicking the pen. “What happened after you arrived in Italy?”

Zayn sighs by the window. “Those were the best times.”

My stomach knots with guilt, and I dip my head.

Italy really was one of the best times on our journey, but it was also where I made the worst decision of my life. I will never stop blaming myself for it.

Italy, summer 2021

Zayn and the younger ones slept through the car ride, and I gaped left and right at the view. At first, olive groves and sunflower fields blurred past. Then the fields vanished and buildings rose up, tall and beautiful, sunlight glinting off a thousand windows. Cobblestone streets rattled beneath the tyres, and the air hummed with the roar of engines and voices. A few hours later, we stopped before a big iron gate that magically opened for us. We drove up a snaky path lined with tall trees and parked by a massive three-storey white house, surrounded by flowers. It was as if someone had shoved it inside a gigantic bouquet.

I nudged Zayn awake, and watched his eyes widen and his mouth open at the beautiful sight. Our gasps echoed as we walked through the double doors.

“Welcome to paradise,” Zayn muttered. My mouth gaped so wide a fly could’ve flown in!

A large hallway opened before us, with colourful carpets spread across floors and tapestries hanging on the walls. A giant oval mirror reflected how out of place we all looked in this house. We were filthy and scruffy, our mouths open, wild eyes staring left and right, and this house was sparkling and luxurious.

A staircase on the right led to the second floor, where the bedrooms were. Zayn and I, and two other boys settled in one of them.

There was a guest shower there too, and we took turns in it. A happy sigh slipped from my lips as the hot spray tingled my sweaty, sunburnt skin. As I stood under the water, I wished it could wash away my memories, too.

We’d found out that this house in Rome belonged to Miss Taara, who was Auntie Amina’s niece. She was helping her and all the grandchildren to seek asylum in Italy. Auntie Taara brought us clean clothes, and we changed into shirts and trousers that smelled of soap.

Once everyone had showered and changed, we gathered downstairs in a bright dining room lit by a massive crystal chandelier. The most exciting spread of food was waiting for us there.

We sat at the long table and greedily stuffed our mouths with grilled lamb, golden pilaf rice and fresh salad. We slurped sweet drinks and sighed with joy between sips. I saw Zayn’s eyes glisten with tears when he took his first bite of lamb. Being in that amazing house, clean, in nice-smelling clothes, eating delicious meat and drinking sugary drinks really felt like paradise.

“Maybe this is it?” Zayn whispered to me at the table. “Maybe we’ve been through hell to finally get here. Maybe this could be our home?” His eyes sparkled with hope.

I scowled at him, but he was too busy shoving bread into his mouth to notice.

How can he think that? Uncle Jalal is in the UK! And Uncle Roshan is going to look for us there, too. If we want to reunite with him, we must get to the UK.

If Uncle Roshan was still alive, that was… But I pushed that thought away and swallowed my annoyance with Zayn. It was a moment of joy for everyone; I didn’t want to spoil it with talk of the journey ahead.

After dinner, everyone rested in their rooms. We were exhausted after spending the day stuck inside the carpet rolls. Our bedroom had only two beds, so Zayn and I slept on mattresses on the floor. But they were clean, soft and bouncy, and the moment my head touched the fluffy pillow, I fell asleep.

* * *

It’s incredible how quickly we got used to the good life. Twenty days later, Zayn and I felt brand new, living in our Italian paradise. We ate like kings, slept like babies and played like carefree children. Our faces rounded, our bodies strengthened, and our minds calmed. Life was as sweet as the orange juice we savoured every morning, and the horrors of the past only crept up on us at night, in our sleep. It was the curse almost all children in the house shared. Every night, at least one of us would wake screaming, and the others rushed to help. We looked after each other, and soon it was as if Zayn and I had always been a part of the family.

But as warm as that feeling was, it bothered me. We had to go to the UK. We had to leave Rome.

That morning after breakfast, as usual, we played football outside.

“Come on, Zayn!” Omar, one of the older grandsons, shouted, and together they sprinted ahead of everyone else.

They passed the ball to each other, their laughter echoing across the garden. Since we’d joined Auntie Amina’s family, Omar and Zayn had become inseparable. They were both obsessed with football, and great at it.

We split into two teams, and Zayn and I ended up on opposite sides.

I was the goalkeeper when Omar skilfully bypassed our defence and passed the ball to Zayn. I watched him score a goal right over my head.

“Go, Zayn!” Omar roared, grasping him in a hug, and the other teammates piled on, cheering.

I stood at the goals, a wave of anger painting my face red. I’d missed hundreds of saves before but never felt like that. It wasn’t about the score. I was jealous of how close Zayn and Omar were.

I played for another ten minutes and then gave up. Seeing Zayn and Omar give each other fist bumps and slaps on the back made my blood boil, so I ran back inside.

When I entered the house, Nur, Auntie Amina’s eldest granddaughter, was walking upstairs with a tray of tea.

“Is it for Auntie?” I asked. “Can I take it to her?”

Nur hesitated but then gave in and passed me the tray. “Just don’t stay long. Auntie needs her rest.”

I walked up and stopped at the door to knock. “It’s Samim, Auntie. Can I come in?”

“Always,” she said, her voice weaker than I remembered.

Since we’d arrived, she’d hardly left her room, and we were told she was resting every time we asked to see her.

My hands trembled as I pushed open the door. Auntie sat under the light covers, her back resting against a mountain of snow-white pillows. Her gums bared in a smile that calmed my nerves.

“Thank you,” she said as I put the tray on her lap. She patted the space beside her. “Sit!”

I sat on the edge of the bed, studying her face, trying to figure out if she was well.

“I’m just tired,” she said, reading the question on my face. “My legs have decided they’ve walked enough, and I quite agree.” She stirred sugar into her tea with a trembling hand and took a few noisy sips. “And how are you?”

I grinned. “I’m well. This house is… incredible.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Auntie looked around with a twinkle in her eyes. “My niece Taara and her husband built it themselves. Well, not with their bare hands, but you know what I mean. They came to Italy almost three decades ago, determined to make a good life for themselves. Taara is a skilled carpet weaver and, with the help of her husband, she set up a little workshop where she creates the most exquisite carpets. Her first one sold for a fortune, and that’s how her business blossomed – out of strong will and hard work.”

I listened to Auntie with my mouth open. A woman who built her own business! I hadn’t heard many stories like that before. But then I thought of Darya. I bet she would have been just as brave and successful.

My head dipped in sudden sorrow.

“You and Zayn are welcome to stay and live here, Samim,” Auntie said, and I lifted my eyes in surprise. “I’ve spoken to my niece, and she’s willing to take you both in. She has the means, the will and, most importantly, the heart for it.”

My head bowed, a strange warmth spreading through my chest. This place is paradise, I thought. What a life Zayn and I could have here!

But my mouth whispered, “We can’t.”

Auntie’s grey eyebrows knitted in confusion. “Why not?”

“Uncle Roshan will be looking for us in the UK. And Uncle Jalal is in the UK. We must find them.”

“But you know what’s after this, right? You have to travel to Calais in France. That place is very dangerous.”

My fingers tightened around my bracelet. None of the places we’d been before on this journey was safe. Calais would be no different.

“I don’t think you should go, Samim,” Auntie’s raspy voice was full of worry. “Think about it. You will have everything you ever wanted here, and more. You will go to school, you will be safe, and you will be looked after. But God only knows what awaits two boys in Calais. And how do you plan to reach the UK from there? Please don’t tell me you’ll be taking a boat.”

“I hope not.” I shuddered, the memory of our gut-wrenching sea journey from Turkey still fresh. “The thought of it makes me sick.”

“Then how?” Auntie’s voice grew louder.

“I… I don’t know.”

“And in the UK, what will happen there? Your uncle won’t be waiting for you at the border. You don’t even have his phone number or address.”

I had no answers, just a nagging feeling that we had to leave. We had to find my uncles.

“Think it through, Samim,” Auntie sighed. “Together with Zayn, think about it.”

I nodded, my heart heavy with the weight of her words.

* * *

I didn’t sleep that night. Suddenly, the once-comfortable mattress I was lying on felt like a bed of thorns, and the room airless. I tiptoed to the window, and flung it open, gulping down the cool air. The breeze soothed my sweaty skin, but the demons in my head were awake, and there was no calming them.