Bitter Chocolate (7 page)

‘What’s the matter? Have you lost your tongue?’ Le Cochon barked. ‘I asked what happens to slackers, and you ain’t told me.’

Pascal raised his head and stared at him. He didn’t say a word.

‘You been cryin’, boy?’

Pascal didn’t answer.

‘I’ll make you cry for your insolence,’ Le Cochon snarled. He raised the bicycle chain and brought it down on Pascal’s back.

Pascal winced with pain, but didn’t utter a word.

‘You want some more, do you?’ Le Cochon demanded.

‘Don’t, sir, please don’t,’ Kojo cried.

The overseer ignored him, swinging the chain and catching Pascal round the back of his legs. Pascal fell to the ground, biting his lip to prevent himself from screaming.

‘Please don’t hit him again,’ Kojo begged.

‘Leave him, sir,’ Tiene joined in. ‘He’s hurt enough.’

Le Cochon swung round as though he were about to hit Tiene as well, but instead he growled at them to get back to work and lumbered off.

Kojo and Tiene helped Pascal to his feet. His legs were bleeding and covered in livid welts, and blood was seeping through his T-shirt.

‘Are you OK?’ asked Kojo.

Pascal nodded his head, though when he tried to walk his legs collapsed. Kojo and Tiene helped him to a tree stump.

‘We should do something about that pig,’ said Tiene. ‘He shouldn’t be allowed to get away with that.’

Pascal looked up at him. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Sorry for what I did. I just lost it.’

‘It happens,’ replied Tiene. ‘And I know I’m an annoying little rat.’ He fell to the ground, squeaking loudly and snuffling through the leaves.

Kojo began to giggle, then Pascal joined in, until all three of them were squeaking and giggling like three-year-olds, stopping only when they were breathless and Youssouf warned them about the noise they were making.

‘Better get on with some work before The Pig comes back,’ said Pascal.

Chapter 13

‘We need to move on,’ said Olivier finally. ‘We’re not safe here. We need to go deeper into the forest.’

Pascal was too shocked to argue. Kamil’s outburst had stripped him of any last stubborn deception that what he had seen in front of his very eyes hadn’t really taken place. And yet he still tried to believe that it was possible to survive, that his father had survived. He wanted to go back, but was terrified of what he might find. He wanted to know if Angeline was safe. He wanted to search for his mother and Bijou, but was petrified of being caught by the rebels.

‘Everyone will have run away,’ Olivier insisted. ‘Everyone who . . . We’ll find them again when it’s all over. They’ll search for us. They’re bound to search for us.’

Pascal was amazed at how calm his cousin seemed to be when he had no idea what had happened to his own family. He was relieved that Olivier was there to make the decisions for him. Olivier had taken charge, kept them together and looked out for them, even though he was less than two years older than Pascal and six months younger than Kamil.

They had heard other voices, other footsteps in the forest. They had thrown themselves to the ground whenever they thought somebody was coming in their direction. In the gloom, with their fears playing havoc with their senses, they couldn’t tell who was friend and who was foe. Kamil didn’t seem to understand the danger. Sometimes he cried out, sometimes he refused to hide and had to be pulled out of sight. Now, as they went deeper and deeper into the forest, pushing their way past tentacled vines and through tangled undergrowth, Pascal wondered where the boy his father had thought would go far in life had disappeared to. And then, as he thought again of his father, a huge, aching disquiet hit him. He felt nauseous and his head began to swim. He tried to focus on one thing and one thing alone. His mother had not been at home. His mother would find him and everything would be all right.

At last, they felt safe enough to stop for the night. The only sounds they could hear now were made by monkeys high up in the treetops and smaller animals scuttling along the forest floor. They found a narrow piece of ground that was surrounded by low bushes, which screened them when they sat down. Kamil lay on his back and didn’t say a word. Olivier stripped the bark off a fallen branch, exploring underneath it to discover what insects were hiding there, as though conducting some sort of field trial. Pascal stood for a while and wandered between one bush and another. He didn’t feel safe enough to sit, convinced that if he were still he would be bombarded with unwelcome thoughts.

‘You hungry?’ Olivier asked suddenly.

Pascal shrugged his shoulders and winced with pain. He felt the place where the bullet had grazed him. It was sticky now, a sign that it had stopped bleeding. The thought of congealed blood made him want to retch, and he was sure he wouldn’t be able to eat if someone put food in front of him. ‘How long will we have to stay here?’ he asked instead.

It was Olivier’s turn to shrug his shoulders. ‘Tonight. Tomorrow, maybe. Are you scared?’

Pascal wanted to say no, but found himself nodding.

‘I am too,’ Olivier said simply. ‘Flipping scared.’

Pascal sat down next to him. ‘We’ll be all right, though, won’t we?’ he asked. ‘They won’t do anything to kids.’ He wanted so much to believe it.

‘We won’t let them,’ replied Olivier. ‘We won’t let them catch us.’

‘What about Kamil?’

‘You’ll be all right, won’t you, Kamil? He’ll be all right in the morning,’ Olivier said.

Pascal started to cry. He had tried so hard not to, but a surge of terror took hold of him and beat him into submission, leaving him gasping for breath. Olivier moved over to put his arm around him. Pascal sank against him, overwhelmed by exhaustion.

‘I’m scared to close my eyes,’ he sobbed.

Chapter 14

Pascal cursed the wooden pallet for its refusal to allow him just the smallest of hollows to relieve the throbbing soreness of his back. Lying on either side wasn’t an option because it rubbed his swollen lower legs, which weren’t protected by his shorts. Lying on his front was virtually impossible, the pallet was so hard. On his back, he could cope as long as he took his weight on one shoulder and didn’t move, but the pain was unbearable if he tried to shift to the other shoulder.

His physical pain was nothing compared to the mental torment he was suffering. He replayed the scene with Tiene over and over again, trying to understand what had driven him to attack his friend so viciously. Tiene could be irritating, very irritating, but he was funny and tried hard to keep the other boys’ spirits up with his ridiculous antics. He hadn’t deserved to be assaulted. Besides, it was important to all of them that they stick together and help each other. Pascal knew that more than anyone else. A rift between any of them would make life harder for everyone.

The thing that terrified him most was the thought that, had Kojo not been there to stop him, he might have carried on, might have seriously hurt Tiene, might have . . . Every time he asked himself the question ‘
Would I have let go of him?
’, he could not allow himself to reach an answer. Yet the question kept repeating itself. He tried to push it away, but it was there, nagging at him, demanding, insistent.

He closed his eyes and tried to sleep. He couldn’t. The pain in his body prevented it. The hunger that wracked him prevented it. The question prevented it. He listened to the other boys. Some were stone-dead silent. Some were muttering. Some were thrashing around, creaking on their wooden pallets.

Pascal wondered if Kojo was asleep. He wasn’t moving. They hadn’t talked very much that evening, just the odd word here and there after the boys had returned from their corn-paste supper to find Pascal huddled in his corner. The dormitory had been unusually quiet. There was a tension in the air, no one speaking in case it provoked an unwelcome reaction. Although they had larked around earlier on in order to forget what had happened, when they lay down in the darkness, the memory of that moment of madness joined forces with the other ghosts that haunted them.

I did that
, Pascal thought to himself.
I went too far and broke the rules. Why?

He jumped to his feet and stood at the window. He held the bars and gritted his teeth.

‘I’ve got to get out of here,’ he said under his breath. ‘I’ve got to get out of here.’

He heard one of the boys get up and pee into the bucket that served as their latrine. When the boy went to lie down again, he stubbed his toe. He yelped with pain, swore loudly and cursed his pallet bed. Pascal wanted to hiss at him to be quiet, dreading that the other boys might wake up and disturb his thoughts. They didn’t, though, and Pascal breathed a sigh of relief.

A moth that must have settled on the inside walls of the dormitory while it was still light suddenly flew past Pascal and away towards the moon. Pascal watched its silhouette grow smaller and smaller until it disappeared, and as he watched he grew more determined that one day, soon, he would escape. He had very little money because none of them had been paid for weeks – the price of chocolate had gone down, they were told – but somehow he would find a way to go back home to his own country and discover what had happened to his mother and sisters. If his father was no longer there to protect them, then he must take over that role.

Kojo stirred and sat up. ‘You all right?’ he asked.

Pascal nodded in the darkness. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘About earlier.’

‘I’ve forgotten about it,’ said Kojo.

Pascal didn’t argue, though he knew it wasn’t true. He dropped down next to Kojo. ‘I’ve got to leave,’ he said quietly. ‘You coming with me?’

He felt his young friend turn towards him questioningly. ‘Leave?’ asked Kojo, his voice tight. ‘When?’

‘Soon,’ said Pascal. ‘Very soon. I know we said we’d wait until we had enough money, but that could be never.’

‘How will we manage without?’

‘We’ll manage. I’ve got a bit,’ Pascal said determinedly. He didn’t want Kojo to undermine the decision he had reached, didn’t want him to sow doubt. ‘You don’t have to come with me.’

Kojo didn’t reply straight away, but then he said quietly, ‘I’ll never forget the day Papa lost his job. I was larking around in the woods with my brother. I’d just hit him with a papaya and was running away, when I saw my father coming across the rickety bridge with his bicycle. It was too early for him to be there. He tried to pretend there was nothing to worry about, but, Pascal, I could see it in his face. He looked old suddenly. I was only eight, but I could tell that something bad had happened. He never recovered from losing his job, and that’s when he became ill.’ Pascal heard his friend swallow and sniff before continuing. ‘I’m not helping my family by staying, and I’m not staying if you’re going.’

Pascal pushed him gently on the shoulder. ‘You’d miss me too much, wouldn’t you?’ he chuckled.

‘Like a hole in the head,’ muttered Kojo. ‘How are we going to escape?’

‘I dunno yet,’ said Pascal. ‘I’ll have to work something out.’

They sat in silence for a while. Pascal wondered if he had done the right thing in asking Kojo to go with him. Kojo wasn’t as strong as he was, physically or mentally, and might cause problems for him. But for some strange reason, even though at times he longed for his own space, he didn’t want to undertake this next journey alone. Besides, he had promised Kojo when they first discussed escaping, several months before, that they would go together.

‘Are you excited or scared?’ Kojo asked at last.

‘Relieved,’ said Pascal.

Chapter 15

Shouts. Mr Camara smoking his cigarette, repairing the fence. Flames licking at the bamboo edges. Kamil flicking playing cards across the table for Pascal to catch, but he misses every time. Laughter. Bright white lights distorting through cut-diamond faces. Flames licking at pounding feet. Angeline throwing Bijou up in the air, over and over, until Bijou doesn’t come down again. Screams. Mrs Camara rocking in a chair, worrying. Mr Camara running away when Pascal tries to speak to him, running away when Pascal tries to speak to him, running away . . . Shouts. Loud, urgent.

‘Wake up, Pascal! Quick! There’s someone coming.’

Olivier was shaking him. Pascal didn’t know where he was. He sat up abruptly and looked around. Kamil was standing close by, staring into the distance.

‘We’ve gotta get out of here – now,’ Olivier hissed. ‘Come on, Kamil, don’t just stand there.’ He pulled Pascal to his feet. ‘Let’s go.’ He began to run, beckoning them to follow.

‘Come on, Kamil,’ Pascal urged.

He tugged at Kamil’s hand. A burst of gunfire made them both jump and, to Pascal’s relief, Kamil began to run with him, soon overtaking him. There were shouts and more gunfire. Pascal felt himself ducking automatically every time the shots rang out, though he had no idea if they were aimed at him. His legs and lungs were soon protesting. A small part of him wanted to give up and take whatever was coming, anything rather than go through the agony of trying to keep up with Olivier. Even Kamil had fallen behind him again now.

And then Pascal noticed that it had gone quiet. Deadly quiet. Ahead of them, Olivier kept running, but more slowly, and turned every so often to look around. At last, he stopped.