Refugee Boy Read Online Free

bring him to England? Was bringing him to England really the best thing to do? Did they really love him or was this a plan to get rid of him? Would they care so much about his upbringing, his health, his education and then dump him?
    At one point Alem even began to believe that this was some kind of rite-of-passage thing, a test of manhood, an initiation test to see how he would cope with being alone and having to fend for himself. As he walked down the different hallways in the hotel, he began to try and peep into the other rooms to see if his father was hiding in one of them.
    The next morning after breakfast Alem walked down the two miles of country roads to Windsor. He had read about the castle and thought that he might be able to see it, but when he reached the edge of the town he turned around and went back to the hotel. He was worried that he might lose his way in what looked from the outskirts like a much bigger town.
    Back in his hotel room he sat on his bed watching middle-aged women having makeovers on breakfast television when there was a knock on the door. Alemrecognised the voice of Mr Hardwick.
    ‘All right, lad? Can we come in? I’m with a couple of nice young ladies who would like to have a word with you.’
    He entered the room, followed by two women who both immediately locked their eyes on Alem.
    ‘This is the lad,’ Mr Hardwick said, looking at one of the women. ‘Alem’s been a wonderful lad, everybody likes him, no trouble at all – I wish there were more like him.’
    Alem felt slightly uncomfortable. Everybody’s eyes were upon him, which made him feel a bit like an animal in a zoo. But when the woman spoke he felt different, much better.
    ‘Tena-yestelen, Alem.’
    ‘Tena-yestelen,’ Alem replied.
    ‘Ingilizinya tinnaggeralleh?’ she asked.
    ‘Yes, I speak English,’ Alem said as he breathed a sigh of relief.
    She was Ethiopian, she looked like someone from the Oromo tribe, dark, round-faced and slim. But what did she want? Alem wondered. Was she a good guy or a bad guy?
    ‘My name is Mariam and this is Pamela. We come from an organisation called the Refugee Council. We heard that you were here and we have come to help you.’
    Pamela was the taller of the two, white-skinnedwith cheeks highlighted with red blusher and short jet-black hair. Alem knew very little about the tribes of England but he was curious about the tribe that Pamela belonged to. He had never seen a European with a silver stud in her chin and six earrings hanging from each ear before. Still she spoke plain English.
    ‘First of all we need to know that you’re OK, and then – well, then we have to try and do whatever you need. We are here for you.’
    ‘I think I’ll go now,’ Mr Hardwick said, turning and heading for the door. ‘You three take your time now. I’m downstairs if you need me.’
    The moment Mr Hardwick left the room, the atmosphere changed. Mariam and Pamela sat on the two available chairs and Alem turned the television off with the remote control, which was still in his hand. Mariam’s eyes wandered around the room and took in the photo of Alem with his parents, which was propped against the bedside lamp next to his bed. ‘So what is it like here then?’
    Alem leaned back and rested on his elbows, now feeling more at ease. ‘It’s OK. The people are nice but the food is very strange.’
    ‘What do you find strange about the food?’ Pamela asked.
    ‘Well, it’s not too bad but it’s very dry. I don’t understand why they made the food so dry, and then they gave me something called gravy to makethe food more wet.’
    Mariam and Pamela laughed out loud. Alem smiled with them. Pamela hadn’t stopped laughing when she began speaking. ‘You see, this is meat-and-two-veg territory.’
    Alem repeated puzzled, ‘Meat and two veg?’
    ‘Yeah,’ she continued, ‘meat and two veg; one piece of meat, that’s the centre of the meal – the centre of the universe – and a couple of