Dad carries me and Bibi down the steps into Yusuf’s grandfather’s cellar. A panicked thought jabs into my bruised and numb brain.
‘Where’s Mum?’ I ask.
Either my voice is still bomb-affected or Dad pretends not to hear. He puts us down and dashes around the cellar, grabbing our rucksacks.
‘Dad,’ insists Bibi, her eyes wild and face streaked with dust. ‘Where’s Mum?’
Dad stops and takes a deep breath. He kneels next to us and puts his finger over Bibi’s lips.
‘It’s OK,’ he says softly. ‘Mum wants us to go to the city. She’ll meet us there tomorrow.’
We both stare at him.
The city? Tomorrow?
‘Why?’ says Bibi, her voice wobbly with panic. ‘What’s she doing?’
Dad takes another deep breath. He looks like he’s trying to think what to say next.
I’m starting to feel as panicked as Bibi.
‘Mum wants me to take you somewhere safe,’ says Dad. ‘We’re going to a place in the city, and we’ll see Mum there tomorrow. She’ll be fine. Trust me.’
I do trust him. He’s my dad. He never lies unless it’s to protect people.
‘If Mum’s not OK,’ says Bibi in a fierce wavering voice, ‘I’ll be really really cross.’
Dad gives us a squeeze and glances up the cellar steps.
‘Yusuf,’ he calls. ‘What’s happening outside?’
Yusuf’s crutches appear at the top of the steps. Then his head.
‘Everyone’s still out there,’ he says. ‘The street’s packed.’
I can hear them. People from all over the village, talking about the explosion and wondering where we are. Some people are yelling that they’ve found bits of us.
People in this village have got very vivid imaginations.
Yusuf’s grandfather hurries down the steps. ‘Taxi’s not damaged,’ he says. ‘And nobody’s found it in the alley yet.’
Dad looks relieved. Well, not relieved exactly, but less grim. ‘OK,’ he says. ‘Time for us to go.’
At the back door, Dad embraces Yusuf’s grandfather.
‘Thank you,’ says Dad.
‘God protect you all,’ says Yusuf’s grandfather.
Bibi is looking worried. I can see she’s thinking that people don’t usually say ‘God protect you’ to people who are going to a safe place. I’m about to whisper to her that it’s just a saying, then I remember there’s something else I have to do.
I turn to Yusuf. This is the moment I’ve been dreading, but I have to do it. I hold out my soccer ball.
‘This is yours now,’ I say.
Yusuf shakes his head.
‘Yes,’ I say. ‘I took your ball and got it blown up. It’s only fair.’
Yusuf shakes his head again. ‘Where you’re going,’ he says, ‘you’ll need it.’
‘After tomorrow we don’t know where we’re going,’ says Bibi.
‘That’s why you’ll need it,’ says Yusuf.
I put my arms round him. I’ve never done this before to a kid who’s not my sister, but it’s the only way I can say thank you. If I try and talk, I’ll cry.
‘I’ll miss you,’ says Yusuf.
I nod so he knows I’ll miss him just as much.
‘Come on,’ says Dad.
We creep out the back door.
‘Thanks for all the soccer,’ I call softly to Yusuf’s grandfather. He gives me a wave.
‘Hope they have satellite TV wherever you’re going,’ whispers Yusuf from the doorway.
‘Thanks,’ I whisper.
‘Shhh,’ says Dad.
The three of us scurry down the dark alleyway and get into the taxi. Dad makes me and Bibi lie on the floor in the back.
‘Jamal,’ says Bibi into my ear as Dad starts the engine. ‘Why isn’t Mum with us?’
I think about this.
‘She’s still got more school parents to warn,’ I whisper. ‘Explain to them why our house was blown up and tell them to be careful and give the kids homework for while we’re away.’
That sounds right. With ancestors like hers, Mum isn’t going to let an exploding house put her off her duty.
‘After tomorrow,’ whispers Bibi, ‘we’ll all stay together, won’t we?’
I try not to think about the government wanting to kill us.
‘Yes,’ I say. ‘Whatever happens, this family will always be together. We may not be in Manchester, but we will always be united.’
It sounds corny, but my heart is thumping, that’s how much I want it to be true.