Refugee Boy Read Online Free Page B

towards Mariam.
    ‘If the man said he wants Italian, then the man gets Italian,’ Mariam insisted. She looked around theroom. There wasn’t much in the way of personal belongings. ‘How much luggage do you have?’
    ‘Only one bag,’ Alem replied, ‘one small bag.’
    ‘Well,’ Mariam said, ‘you have to leave this hotel today, so what we’d like you to do is pack your bag now and come with us. The first thing we’ll do is to go and find some Italian food and then we’ll take you back to our office. At the office we’ll work out a plan and get you somewhere to stay.’
    Alem went to the wardrobe, got his bag and put his few items of clothing in it. Then he went around the room and collected the photo and his schoolbooks and put them away too. He went to the bathroom and collected his toiletry bag and put that in his bag before zipping it up. The whole packing process took less than five minutes.
    They left the hotel after saying their goodbyes to Mr Hardwick and then rode for forty minutes in Mariam’s slow old Volkswagen to Reading town centre. There they found an Italian restaurant where Alem indulged himself with a very large portion of spaghetti bolognese while Mariam and Pamela slowly grazed on some boiled vegetables and pasta. It was in their plan not to bother Alem with questions over the meal; instead they let him eat, only interrupting him periodically to ask him how the food was or if he wanted more.
    After the meal they took a five-minute drive to their offices, which consisted of four rooms above a shoe shop. Every corner had a desk with a computer on it, as well as stacks of paper. Most of the desks were in use. Mariam introduced Alem to every worker, clearly stating their name and whether they were full-time, part-time or voluntary workers. Then he was taken into a small room, which was empty except for a round table with four chairs. As Alem entered the room he wondered why he was introduced to everyone. Was it for a purpose? He worried because less than one minute after the introductions ended he couldn’t remember one single name. The names all sounded strange and unmemorable to him.
    As they sat down, one of the workers came in carrying a tray with a pot of tea, cups, milk, sugar and biscuits on it. The worker put it on the table and left the room.
    ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ Pamela asked as she began to prepare the cups.
    ‘No, thank you,’ Alem replied.
    ‘Would you like some biscuits then?’
    ‘No, thank you, I have no more room inside me. I’m full up.’
    When the tea making was done, Mariam began the talking as Pamela made notes.
    ‘Right, Alem, as we said earlier, this organisation is called the Refugee Council. We are independent andour main concern is to look after the interests of refugees. Unfortunately it’s not up to us whether you can stay in Britain but we will try our best to make sure that the Home Office knows why you should stay.’
    Once again Alem looked puzzled. ‘I don’t want to stay,’ he said. ‘I don’t really want to stay here, I want to go home – to Africa.’
    Mariam responded quickly. ‘But you know why your father and mother had to get you out, don’t you?’
    ‘Of course I do, I told you why, but I don’t want to stay here for ever. It’s cold.’
    Mariam smiled. ‘Yes, we know it’s cold and we hope that you don’t have to stay here for ever, but do you really want to go home right now? Do you think it’s safe?’
    There was a long silence before Alem replied. He took time to think through his answer and as he answered he placed every word carefully. ‘I want to go home but I can’t go now because of the fighting. So I would like to go home when there is peace. Most of all I want to be with my parents.’
    ‘We understand completely,’ Mariam replied. ‘Let me explain something to you, Alem. It’s important that you understand this. We have to make an application for you to stay; we have to get permission. That permission