Favourite Dog Stories: Shadow, Cool! and Born to Run. Michael Morpurgo
told me later that she could never have imagined that she could become so fond of a dog.
I think all the soldiers could see my sadness. The soldiers may have been exhausted when they came back into the base after a patrol, with their rifles and their helmets, but they always had a smile for me. They all knew by now why we were on the road, what we were running away from, all about how Mother had been treated by the police, about how Grandmother had died.
Sergeant Brodie came in to see us on the evening before we left, with the interpreter, who told us that the soldiers had collected some money to help us on our way, a whip-round, he called it. I think I knew what was coming next from the sad expression on his face. He said it all through the interpreter. He could hardly look at me.
“About Polly. I’m sorry, Aman, but she has to stay here. She’s an army dog. Maybe you can come and see her again, when you get to England, I mean. How’d that be?” He was only trying to soften the blow, I realised that. But who knew if we would ever even make it to England, without Shadow to lead us there?
I cried when he’d gone out. I couldn’t stop myself. Mother said it was for the best, that we’d be fine on our own from now on, God willing. And this time, she said, we were going to look after our money. That was why, with Shadow beside me on the bed, I spent most of our last night on the base hollowing out the heels of our shoes, the best place we could think to hide our money. Shadow watched me all the time. She knew for sure these would be our last few hours together.
I could hardly bear to look at her.
When we left the next morning, the soldiers were there to see us off, and so was Shadow. Sergeant Brodie called for three cheers, and when it was over he stepped forward to say goodbye to us. He pressed something into my hand. The interpreter was there to help him as usual. “Our regimental badge, Aman,” he was telling me. “The sergeant says you’ve earned it. He says he hopes you get to England all right. And when you do, and you ever need any help, let him know. He’ll be there. And if you want to see Polly again, just ask. You can always get in touch with him through the regiment. And he says to thank you, for bringing Polly back to him, for saving the lives of his men, that he’ll never forget what you did for us, for all the lads, for the regiment.”
I crouched down to say my last goodbyes to Shadow, stroked the dome of her head, and ruffled her ears. But I couldn’t say anything. If I spoke, I knew I would cry, and I didn’t want to do that, not in front of the soldiers.
As they drove us off out of the base, I longed for Shadow to jump up and come with us. But I knew she wouldn’t, that she couldn’t.
That was the last I saw of her.
They drove us to the nearest town, and put us on a bus. I sat there clutching my badge. I looked down at it for the first time. It was silver, like a star, with what looked like a picture of castle walls on it. And there was some writing below that I couldn’t read then.
(It said Royal Anglian. I’ve still got it. I take it with me everywhere.)
We were on our way again, to England, to Uncle Mir and Manchester. Sitting there on the bus, I remember I tried hard to think of David Beckham, to stop me feeling so sad about leaving Shadow. But it didn’t work. Then I looked down at my star, and squeezed it tight. It made me feel better. That silver star always has, ever since.
“The Whole Story, I Need the Whole Story.”
Grandpa
All this time, as Aman was telling his story, he had hardly looked up at me. It seemed to me that as he was telling it, he needed to relive his memories without any kind of distraction. He spoke so softly that he could almost have been talking to himself, his voice often barely a whisper. Sometimes I had to lean right forward to hear what he was saying. But throughout it all, his voice had been steady, until the very last bit, the moment he’d had to leave Shadow behind. I could hear then that he was fighting back the tears.
When he got up suddenly and rushed out of the visiting room, I was sure it must be because he did not want me to see him crying. I knew too that he might not come back, that he might be too proud to have to face me again after that. But I waited there anyway, because somehow I felt there was at least a chance he would come back. After all, he’d come back before, hadn’t he?
Sitting alone at the table I wished more than anything that Matt could be with me. Aman wouldn’t have run off like that if Matt had been there. They were friends, best friends. Matt would have been able to talk him round somehow.
It was then, with Aman’s story still fresh in my head, that I first began to consider seriously whether there really might be something that could be done to help Aman and his mother – besides just visiting them, I mean.
The longer I sat there, and thought about the poverty of their lives in Bamiyan, of the suffering the whole family had lived through, of their determination to get out of Afghanistan and come to England, the more I hated to think of them locked up like criminals in this place. There was a terrible injustice going on here. Aman’s story had awoken the journalist in me. I wanted to know more.
I wanted to know everything.
When Aman did come back a few minutes later, his mother was with him again. I hadn’t expected this at all. There was so much I still had to find out about. I’d been hoping that when he came back, he would be able just to pick up his story where he’d left off. But I knew Aman was much more shy and reserved with his mother around, so I wasn’t at all hopeful he would talk as easily or as freely as he had before. I could see his mother had been crying, and was still very overwrought. She was rocking back and forth, clutching a handkerchief in both hands.
His mother spoke up then, but only to Aman, and in her own language. When she had finished, he translated for her. “Mother says she had to come and tell you herself that we cannot go back to Afghanistan, that the police would torture her again. She says the Taliban are not defeated, they are everywhere, in the police, everywhere. They will kill her, just like they killed Father. She says we have been living in England for six years now. This is our home. She says our lawyer cannot help us any more, that the government won’t even let us appeal. She has prayed to God that you will be able to help us. Her dream tells her you will, but she has come to ask you herself, to beg you to make her dream come true.”
I didn’t know what to say, only that I had to say something, and something encouraging too, but without making promises I could not keep.
“Tell her I can do my best, and I will,” I told him. “But she must understand, and so must you, Aman, that I am not a lawyer. I’m not sure what I can do, what anyone can do. But I do know that for me to be able to do anything at all, I will need you to tell me your whole story, from the time you left Shadow behind, and got on the bus that day, until now, until today. I mean, how did you manage to get all the way to England? How have you been living, and what exactly happened when they brought you in here? The more I know, the better. I need to know everything.”
Aman talked to his mother for a few moments, to explain things. She was calmer now, more composed. Then he turned back to me, took a deep breath, and began again, reluctantly though, almost as if he did not want to remind himself at all of the rest of the story, as if he was dreading having to live through it again.
“God is Good.”
Aman
All right, if you think it will help, I’ll go on then. The bus. We were on the bus. It was a comfortable bus, the most comfortable I’d ever been on. I was missing Shadow, of course I was; but apart from that, I was feeling really up. I think I imagined this bus would take us all the way to England. I was only eight then, remember. I hadn’t any real idea where England was, nor how far it was away, nor how long it would take us to get there.
I think if we had known what a long and terrible journey it was going to be, then I’d never have got on to that bus in the first place. As it turned out, that bus journey was the last time we were going to be comfortable, or happy, for a very long time.