Ballet Shoes for Anna (2 page)

M
Y GOODNESS, IT
was hot walking to the next village! Used as the children were to heat they streamed with perspiration until they were wet all over. To make them hotter there was just a dirt track to the other village, so the dust was terrible. As they walked in single file, Francesco leading and carrying the canvas, Gussie next and Anna last, Anna particularly became brown with the dust that stuck to her.

When they got to the village it almost seemed like a wasted walk for the picture framer was asleep on his bed. He did open one eye but he refused to take an interest in any picture. So Francesco leant the canvas against the wall, feeling certain the picture framer would remember it when he woke up, for he was very fond of earning money and a great admirer of Christopher’s paintings.

The children bought some figs, a vine leaf of mulberries
for each of them, and a bottle apiece of lemonade. Then they looked for a place in the shade where they could have a picnic.

“It’s rather a long way,” said Francesco, “but I think we climb up the hill as far as those cactuses, they’re the best shade there is. It’s much too hot to stay in this village.”

Gussie groaned.

“If I don’t lie down soon I’ll drop down.”

But Anna sided with Francesco.

“He’s right, Gussie, that cactus hedge is quite thick, it’s real proper shade.”

When the children reached the cactus trees they were so hot and tired that they just flopped down in the shade panting, unable even to take a drink of lemonade. Then after a long time, Francesco said in a puzzled voice:

“Have you noticed something? How is it there aren’t any birds?”

Gussie stared round.

“I expect they’ve gone somewhere cooler, and I don’t blame them.”

“This is the third day they’ve been gone,”Anna told them. “Two days ago before my dancing lesson I am putting on my shoes and on our hill there were thousands of birds. Then they all flew away and they haven’t come back.”

Gussie reached out for his bottle of lemonade and his vine leaf of mulberries. It was then he noticed a horse in the next field.

“Look, I think that horse has gone mad.”

Francesco and Anna looked where Gussie was pointing. The horse was old and thin but it was behaving as if it was a foal, rushing round bucking. The children stared at the horse in amazement.

“You can go mad when it’s hot,” Gussie stated. “Sometimes I am reading that dogs can.”

“You can’t get hydrophobia just because it’s hot,” Francesco told him, “but perhaps if it’s very hot like today it can make you a bit strange.”

Anna suddenly burst out in a voice which sounded as if she easily might cry.

“I don’t like it; everything feels strange. I didn’t like the birds going away, now the sky looks odd and now that horse.”

Francesco thought Anna was being silly.

“Drink some lemonade, it’s just that you’re thirsty and it’s so hot.”

It was as Francesco said this that it began to happen. There was a roaring sound as if a very fast train was coming out of a tunnel pushing blazing hot air in front of it. Then the earth behaved as if it was the sea. It rocked to and fro like waves, and as it rocked the children were rolled and tossed around. Over and over they went. Then, after what seemed like ages, just as suddenly as it had started to move, the earth stood still again.

For a long time the children lay just where the earth had thrown them. Then one after another they sat up and at once noticed two extraordinary things. First the hillside, which had been smooth except for the dirt path, was now cut up as if a
giant had stamped and had cracked it open. The other thing they noticed was that now, instead of being hot, it was turning cold, much colder than the children, who had always lived in hot countries, had known it could be.

It seemed as if the strange terrible thing that had happened had taken from the children the power of speech. Gussie did ask:

“What happened?”

And Francesco did answer:

“I don’t know.”

Then, without any more talking, as best they could because of the cracks in the earth, the children hurried up the hill towards home. At the top of the hill they stopped. Opposite them they should have seen the village quite distinctly. Jardek and Babka’s little cottage with Togo in the field opposite which he shared with some cows and a donkey. The other cottages, the shops, the tea house, and the little mosque. But none of it was there. Where the village had been there was nothing – nothing at all.

S
IR
W
ILLIAM
H
OOGLE
was a famous archaeologist and writer. He was travelling in Turkey when the earthquake happened which destroyed Jardek and Babka’s village, in fact he was near enough to feel the earth tremors himself. On the radio he heard how terrible an earthquake it had been for those living at the centre of the disaster. He learnt about the village which had disappeared, and of how difficult it was to carry out rescue work because the ground was so full of fissures that no aeroplane could land. Such help as was reaching the afflicted areas was being dropped by parachute.

Now Sir William not only spoke Turkish but also understood most of the local dialects. In his mind he could see the planes flying over the scene of the earthquake, dropping bundles by parachute on people almost certainly
too shocked by what had happened to know how to use what they were being given. There were of course doctors and nurses being dropped but would they have time to help anybody but the injured?

“I think I could be of use,” Sir William told himself. “Anyhow, I shall go and find out.”

All round the areas affected by the earthquake, railway lines had become twisted, the roads had fissures across them and were blocked by piles of rubble which had once been buildings. If there is one kind of help no country wants in times of national disaster it is unskilled labour. So when Sir William asked officials how he could be transported to the scene of the earthquake he was told politely – for he was very distinguished – but firmly he could not go. As soon as aeroplanes could land help was coming, meanwhile those on the spot were doing all that could be done.

Sir William quite understood the officials. After all, he was not a specialist in disaster work, but all the same he was still convinced he could be of use. So he bought a camel – he turned out to be very bad-tempered – called Muzzaffer, filled a light case with his toilet articles and a change of clothes and things he thought might be useful and rode off in the direction of the afflicted part of the country.

It was a long way for Sir William to ride for he had to make constant detours to avoid fissures. His journey was not helped by Muzzaffer, who complained loudly the whole way that Sir William and the case were too heavy for him – which was not true – and that he hated earthquakes. All the
same he carried Sir William safely first to the village where the children had taken Christopher’s picture to be framed, and then to the centre of the disaster area. From the moment they saw their village had gone a sort of silent frenzy had come over the children, then, without saying a word, they stumbled and ran all the way to where they thought the little house had been. There they knelt down and dug and dug with their fingers. But though they dug without stopping they could not find any sign of their family – just nothing – nothing at all.

Nor was the place where their own little house had been the only place where the children dug, they dug in the field Togo had shared with the cows and the donkey. They dug where they thought the tea house had been. They dug where the shop had once stood. They dug for the other cottages and the mosque. On they went, dig, dig, dig until their nails were broken and their hands covered in blood. And still they never spoke.

Although the children’s own village was gone others were not, but the damage everywhere was terrible and very widespread so each district had to help itself. To begin with all who were not injured tried to get the wounded out from under fallen buildings. Presently the first of the aeroplanes arrived and a doctor, a nurse and a tent came down by parachute. Later came more doctors and nurses and piles of blankets and packets of food. It was when the blankets arrived that the people noticed how cold it was. By now the tent was up and all the wounded that could be found had been taken
into it. The doctors then decided that as it would soon be dark looking for wounded must stop for that day, that the women should build a fire and cook a meal, but that everyone else should put a blanket round them and search the countryside for any people who might be homeless and bring them to the tent.

It was only by accident that the children were found, for who would look for people in a village which had disappeared? But a man and a boy decided to climb the hill to see if anyone was about on the other side. That was how they fell over the children. At no time did the children speak much Turkish and now they couldn’t speak at all, they couldn’t even hear, they just went on dig, dig, dig. The man, who had a big voice, roared for help and presently two more men turned up and after discussion the three men took off their blankets, rolled the children in them, picked them up, slung them over their shoulders and, sending the boy ahead to tell the doctors what they had found, they marched off towards the tent.

The children knew nothing of what happened after that, for the doctor who examined them almost at once gave them an injection and laid them in the hospital part of the tent covered in blankets.

The arrival of Sir William two days later on Muzzaffer caused quite a sensation in what was now called “Camp A”. By that time help of every kind had arrived: troops to mend and clear the roads, helicopters to fly wounded to the hospitals, rescue squads to dig in the ruins and help of other
types, particularly clothes, food and medicines. A very important man who knew the neighbourhood was in charge of relief work so it was to him Sir William, with a parcel under his arm, presented himself. He explained who he was and asked if there was any way in which he could be of service.

“You are British?” asked the official.

Sir William nodded.

“I am.”

“Then you may be able to help me. We have in camp three children. We believe them to be British.”

Sir William liked the facts.

“Why?”

The official opened a drawer and took out a large envelope. “The children do not know this. But caught in a crater we found the remains of what probably was a caravan, there was little left of it but this.” He took out of the envelope a British passport. “This belonged, as you can see, to a man called Christopher Docksay. His wife’s name was Olga and there are three children listed – Francesco, Augustus and Anna.”

“Did Christopher Docksay live here?” Sir William asked.

“No, not live,” the official explained. “But the locals say that Madame Docksay was the daughter of an old Pole who, with his wife, lived in that village which has gone. This daughter, whose name was Olga, married this Christopher Docksay and every year they came to stay, travelling by caravan. He was an artist.”

“He was indeed,” Sir William agreed. “He’ll be a great loss. You say the locals told you all about the family but what do the children say?”

The official threw up his hands.

“The doctors say it is shock and will pass, but so far the children have said nothing, not to each other, not to us. They just sit, well-behaved you understand, but like deaf mutes. They were found digging with their fingers for their family where that village once stood. The doctors say the children do not yet want to remember, when they do they will talk.”

Sir William thought for a moment, then he showed the official the parcel under his arm.

“I found this today. It is a picture of Christopher Docksay’s, the children took it to the village over that hill to be framed on the day of the earthquake. The picture framer was showing it to everybody because the painting is of the village which has gone. I paid him for his work and promised to see that the picture was delivered to Christopher Docksay’s executors, whoever they may be. If the doctors permit I shall show this picture to the children. It might get through to them.”

The children could not stop shivering. They sat on the floor of the tent with blankets round them. One of the nurses had combed their hair and washed their faces and they had been fed with soup. They paid no attention when a doctor led Sir William over to them. Nor were they interested when Sir William sat down opposite to them and opened a flat
parcel. Then he spun the contents of the parcel round so that it faced them.

There was the little house just as they had last seen it except that on the porch only Olga, Jardek and Babka were drinking tea for, of course, Christopher was painting the picture. There was a second’s pause, then Francesco fainted, Gussie was sick and Anna screamed.