Just Joshua (11 page)

Twigs snapped and leaves rustled as a man in a conical hat picked his way through the undergrowth. In his arms he carried a large bundle – a bundle totally
covered
up by the blanket that hung from his shoulders, except for two bare, brown legs that dangled down. It was difficult to see here in the darkness where the leaves shut out the moonlight. He carried on, trusting to memory and smell, and reached the oleanders.

He paused. There was a path to the right and he took it. A dog appeared out of the darkness, raised its muzzle and sniffed, nostrils quivering. It whined
quietly
. It limped towards the man, whined again and began to walk ahead of him. It turned, making sure that he was following, and led him on to a cluster of small houses around a wide, dusty clearing. No lamps or
candles
burned in the darkness; everyone was sleeping. Except for one. As Swabber walked across to the stone shop, she came from the doorway where she’d been watching and shuffled towards the man.

He took a step back, holding tightly to the bundle in his arms. She signed to him that she meant him no
harm. This time he let her approach. She lifted the corner of his blanket and looked beneath. Then she smiled – a toothless, shy smile – and touched the mountain man by the hand. Beckoning him to follow, she led him a short distance back the way he had come. Swabber limped alongside.

They reached jasmine bushes. ‘Put him down,’ she said, gesturing.

Something hard and wooden dug into Joshua’s stomach. Scratchy wool rubbed his cheeks and arm. He recognised a sweet fragrance as he was set on his feet. He opened his eyes and saw the mountain man
bending
over him. He could hear the sea. The man touched Joshua’s head lightly, bowed, and left.

A hand held his. Old Mama Siska led him towards the convent where lights still shone. He stumbled with tiredness and only dimly saw a rush of white as Sister Martha caught him and picked him up.

He heard murmuring above his head. ‘Ouf, he’s quite a weight.’

‘What else do you expect?’ said another.

‘Drink,’ Sister Mary’s voice said, and sweet, warm liquid was put to his lips. The voices receded again and he was carried to bed and undressed. Something fell out of his shirt on to the bed. There was a small gasp. Then he felt it being put in his hand, and his fingers closed over the rough lizard. He grasped it tightly as he
was helped into bed. His head touched something hard and smooth. His eyes flickered open and glimpsed Pig.

‘Marius and Vincent put him there,’ he heard Sister Martha’s whisper. ‘Hoping he’d come back.’

He fell asleep again at once, Pig standing guard.

‘Up, all of you! Up!’

Joshua heard the call and the clap of Sister Martha’s hands.

‘Come along, Joshua!’

He threw back the sheet and got out of bed and joined the others.

‘God bless to us this day,’ Sister Martha said.

‘And ourselves to His service. Amen,’ they chorused back.

‘Breakfast in ten minutes.’

It was a day like every day in the orphanage. He splashed water on his face and his neck and arms. They were scratched from the thorns. When he saw Marius looking at the scratches he grinned. Younger brother, he thought, pleased. He cupped water in his hands and threw it at him.

Marius ran, squealing.

He sat down at his place at the table and, as usual, forgot to pass the teapot until one of the girls reminded him, and, of course, was one of the last to finish what was in his bowl.

There was a rustle from behind and Sister Martha leaned between him and Marius. ‘Joshua, when you’ve finished, I want you to come with me to Reverend Mother’s study.’

Joshua put down his spoon. ‘Why?’ he asked.

‘Mr and Mrs Nettar are here.’

The others round the long table had stopped talking and were listening, agog.

Joshua began to shake. ‘I want to stay here,’ he said.

‘I know you do.’ Her mouth was set in a grim line. ‘Aren’t you going to finish that?’ She pointed at the food left in his bowl.

He shook his head. His appetite had vanished.

‘Then we may as well go now.’

He followed her out to the passage.

‘Hello, Josh.’

He was startled to see Robert. ‘Hello.’

Robert brought his hands out from behind his back. ‘Here,’ he said, handing over a small newspaper bundle. ‘I was keeping them safe for you.’

Joshua unwrapped the paper. Inside, to his
amazement
, were his knife and the piece of wood. When he looked up, Robert was smiling at him. He bundled them up again and smiled back. ‘Thanks.’

‘I didn’t know if you’d come back,’ his friend went on. ‘Sister Martha came and told us last night you’d gone. Mum says she’s making your biscuits and will
you come and have some this afternoon after school?’

Joshua nodded. His eyes slid up to Sister Martha’s. ‘Can I?’ he asked.

‘Would you like Robert to come with you to
Reverend
Mother?’

His mouth went dry again. He nodded. She hadn’t answered his question. He held the bundle tightly as they walked.

Robert nudged him. ‘She cried when she came to our house last night,’ he whispered.

Joshua digested this piece of information. He hadn’t ever seen anyone cry over him.

Three faces turned towards them when they entered Reverend Mother’s study. The man and woman looked tired and tense. They were holding hands tightly. Joshua concentrated on looking at Mother John, as if by doing that, he could shut out the strangers.

She examined him, her eyes hard and piercing. Finally she spoke. ‘We have been discussing you,’ she said. ‘Mr and Mrs Nettar are upset that you ran away. Very upset indeed.’

Joshua waited. At his side, Robert was still too.

‘We’ve also been talking to Sister Martha. She thinks it may not be such a good idea for you to leave us.’

His heart did a tiny skip.

‘But,’ she went on, ‘they have adopted you, and you did say yes.’

Joshua drooped. Behind him, Sister Martha rested a hand lightly on his shoulder.

‘You must learn not to say yes without thinking.’

He moved backwards, closer to Sister Martha, and Robert shuffled nearer.

‘They have come a long way to fetch you.’

‘That’s not Joshua’s fault!’ Robert burst out.

‘Thank you, Robert,’ she said drily. ‘Just what I was about to say. You are a very fortunate boy, Joshua.’

Oh no, he thought, remembering Sister Martha’s words the morning before. He didn’t want to go with the strangers. He knew that now; he didn’t want that bed, he didn’t want to go.

‘Mr and Mrs Nettar have missed one flight already. They have to leave this afternoon, and they would still like to take you.’

He froze.

‘If you would like to go. But Sister Martha has advised them that this would be a mistake.’ He held his breath. ‘And I have told them that I agree with her.’

He stared at Mother John, not daring to believe.

‘Now, Joshua. I’m going to ask you again. Would you like these good people to adopt you?’

He looked straight into her eyes and shook his head.

‘What did you say?’ she asked sharply.

‘No, Reverend Mother,’ he answered, trying
desperately
to hide the quiver in his voice.

‘Have you anything else to say?’

He didn’t dare.

Sister Martha opened her mouth.

‘No, Sister,’ Reverend Mother said sharply. ‘Let the boy speak for himself. Now, Joshua,’ her voice
softened
.

‘Would you like to stay with us?’

‘Yes, please, Reverend Mother,’ he said eagerly

‘And there’ll be no more running away? No more escaping?’

He shook his head.

Joshua watched her turn to the foreign couple and speak to them in their language. The man protested but the woman said something that made him lower his head to hers and rest it there.

Reverend Mother turned to face Joshua once more and regarded him gravely. Then her stern, wrinkled face eased. ‘You may stay.’

‘Oh!’ Joshua’s face split right across in a huge and happy smile. He turned and buried himself in Sister Martha’s arms.

‘Joshua.’

Sister Martha turned him back to face Reverend Mother.

‘Don’t you think you should say something to Mr and Mrs Nettar?’ the older nun prompted.

He left the safety of Sister Martha and Robert and went and stood nervously in front of the couple.

The woman’s eyes were wet. She reached out, and he let her pull him to her and hug him. The bundle with the knife dug into her side and she looked down in surprise.

His nervousness left him. He drew back and, slowly, he unwrapped the paper once more. He took the piece of wood and held it out to her. ‘I can carve,’ he said to her and the man. ‘See?’ He pointed to the emerging head. He pressed it into her hand. ‘You can have it, if you like.’

The room was very silent. ‘You can take it with you,’ he said, in case she hadn’t understood. He looked round.

Robert was the first to speak. ‘Mountain man,’ he teased, but gently, and there was a grin on his face.

Joshua grinned back.

‘
Our
mountain man,’ Sister Martha corrected.

Joshua’s chin lifted. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I’m just Joshua.’

Jan Michael

JAN MICHAEL was born in her grandparents’ house on the Yorkshire moors. At age six she moved with her parents to the Seychelles, where, by her own admission, she ran wild. When she was eleven she was sent to boarding school in Wales, returning once a year to see her parents, who moved from the Seychelles to Lesotho in southern Africa, and then to Pakistan.
She studied history at Bristol University and worked in London as an editor before moving to Holland. Her office in Amsterdam is an old tobacconist’s shop dating from the 1880s.
Jan has written five novels and five children’s books, some of which have been translated into Dutch, Danish, Italian and German.
Just Joshua
won the
Vlag en Wimpel
Award in the Netherlands. Her previous book with The O’Brien Press was
The Rock Boy
.