Chapter 24

‘It’s this week,’ said Pascal.

‘What’s this week?’

‘What do you think?’

Pascal watched Kojo’s jaw drop.

They were sitting away from the other boys during a brief morning water break at the plantation. Pascal fiddled with a long piece of grass, splitting its shaft with his thumbnail then tying knots in it from top to bottom. Kojo was picking the dirt from under his toenails with a pointed stick.

‘How?’ he asked.

Pascal checked that nobody was close enough to hear. ‘Like a sack of pods,’ he smiled.

Kojo frowned.

‘Like a sack of pods in the back of a truck,’ Pascal elaborated.

‘Stop playing games and tell me what you mean!’

Pascal leant towards Kojo. ‘We steal two sacks, jump on to one of the trucks, hide inside the sacks and wait for the truck to leave the plantation. When it does, we get off the truck and away we go.’

Kojo pulled a face as he took in what Pascal had said, then sat in silence, poking his foot with the stick.

‘What do you think?’ asked Pascal.

‘We’ll never get away with it,’ said Kojo.

‘It’s worth a try,’ Pascal argued. ‘I can’t think of a better way, can you?’

Kojo shook his head.

‘We’ll go on Pigface’s day off. We’ve got a better chance if he’s not around.’ Pascal stared hard at Kojo. ‘You’re still up for it, aren’t you? It’s not too late to change your mind.’

Kojo stared back at him. ‘I won’t change my mind,’ he said firmly. ‘Put it there.’ He held his hand out for Pascal to shake. Pascal was about to reciprocate when he saw Tiene hovering near them.

‘What are you two plotting?’ Tiene wanted to know.

‘How to blow the ears off nosy people, ha!’ Pascal smiled coldly.

‘That’s a bit harsh,’ said Tiene. ‘I just wanted to sit with my friends, that’s all.’

The bell rang for them to go back to work.

‘Too late,’ Pascal said, standing up. ‘You’ll have to wait till dinner time.’

He strode away in the direction of the drying mats, where he had been detailed to spend the rest of the day filling sacks with dried cocoa beans, ready for them to be taken away. He couldn’t believe his luck when one of the overseers allocated the job to him, because normally it was carried out by the overseers themselves. He supposed he should feel proud to be chosen, since the work entailed sifting through the beans to ensure their quality and removing any that were broken or germinating, as well as any rogue matter. Instead, he felt excited, because it gave him the chance to decide how he might steal two of the sacks, and also to find out when the next trucks were due to transport the beans away from the plantation. He was happy to be on his own, able to follow his thoughts without being disturbed by chatter from the other boys.

As he squatted on his heels and rolled his hands over the hardened beans, Pascal became more and more convinced that his escape plans were feasible, even if there would be great danger every step of the way. The danger didn’t worry him. He was used to danger. And nothing that could happen would be any worse than what he had been through already. His only fear was of failure. He didn’t know how he would cope if they were caught and taken back to the plantation. He didn’t know if he would be able to summon up the will power to try to escape again. It had already taken him months to galvanise himself into action, to break out of the inertia that had enveloped him like a straitjacket since he had arrived and allowed his every action to be dictated once again. It would break him to fail. He would have one chance to escape, and one chance only.

Pascal immersed himself in his work. He couldn’t afford to fall down on the task and draw attention to himself. When he was happy that only the best beans remained, he dragged some sacks from a nearby shelter and began to fill them. As he did, he wondered how he could steal two of them without being spotted. Even now, he could see one of the overseers hovering in the shadows, gazing in his direction from time to time.

It’s got to be today, Pascal thought. I probably won’t be asked to do this job again, and I won’t be able to get near the sacks when the overseers are working here.

He continued to fill the sacks, checking to see how often he was being watched, and noticed that when the overseer wandered over to where Kojo and some of the boys were breaking open pods, a row of low trees formed a screen between them and the area where Pascal was working. Pascal realised that this would be his best opportunity to whip a couple of sacks from the pile and hide them until they were needed. He didn’t think it would be too difficult to take them, but he had to find a hiding place that would be accessible when he and Kojo were ready to go. He wondered again whether he was doing the right thing in taking Kojo with him. There was a far greater possibility of someone spotting two of them. But it was an extra risk he was going to have to take.

He straightened up when he heard the sound of an engine. A truck was being driven along the path towards him. Sitting in the passenger seat was Mr Kouassi. The driver brought the truck to a halt a few metres away from Pascal, and the overseer opened the cabin door and heaved himself out. He was sweating profusely. He stopped to wipe his forehead on his shirtsleeve before waddling in Pascal’s direction. Pascal thought how easy it would be to bowl him over and make him pay for all the hours of bullying he had inflicted, if it weren’t for the fact that, as usual, Le Cochon was carrying his bicycle chain and stick.

‘It must be your lucky day,’ the overseer puffed. ‘How did you manage to wangle this cushy little job?’

‘It must be my good looks, sir,’ Pascal replied. Then he inwardly cursed himself for goading the man.

‘One of these days, your arrogance will bite you in the bum,’ Le Cochon sneered. He moved over to the remaining pile of beans and inspected them meticulously, pushing and poking them with his stick.

Pascal watched him, hatred welling up inside.

‘What is that?’ Le Cochon said at last. He pointed his stick between two beans.

‘That’s a beetle, sir,’ said Pascal.

‘And what is a beetle doin’ runnin’ around amongst the beans that you are about to put in a sack ready to be transported away from ’ere and turned into chocolate?’

‘Looking for its mate?’ ventured Pascal, despite his resolve to stay on the right side of the overseer.

Le Cochon flashed him an evil glare, then, without any warning, swung the bicycle chain viciously against his back. Pascal fell to the ground, writhing in agony.

‘That’ll teach you to show me some respect,’ Le Cochon spat. ‘And that’ll teach you not to pick on the other kids.’ He kicked a shower of dust at Pascal. ‘Don’t think I dunno what you’re up to. The boss, he don’t take too kindly to havin’ his goodness thrown back in his face, so I’ll be watchin’ you twenty-four-seven.’ He kicked another shower of dust at Pascal, then grabbed hold of his T-shirt and pulled him to his feet. ‘Now get those sacks loaded on to the truck before I get really nasty.’

Pascal was too shocked to resist. He stumbled over to the row of full sacks and bent to pick one up. He winced and had to stop himself from crying out as he lifted it on to his back. He steadied himself, then focused his eyes on the truck and headed falteringly towards it. The next time he was this close to a truck, he would be leaping aboard and hiding amongst the sacks. That thought kept him from keeling over and earning more of Le Cochon’s punishments.

‘Get a move on, then,’ the overseer growled. ‘We ain’t got all day.’

Pascal heaved the sack on to the truck, noticing that the truck driver was flicking through a newspaper rather than paying any attention to what was going on behind him. He jumped up into the truck and pulled the sack to the rear, forming a new row next to one that had been collected from another part of the plantation. The driver turned his head, then stared at Pascal through the small window in the cabin and returned to his newspaper. That was the only time he looked round, until all the sacks were aboard and Le Cochon banged on the door to indicate that he could drive off.

Pascal watched as the truck crunched along the path and turned off right in the direction of the perimeter fence. He knew that further along was the entrance to the plantation, which was marked by a guard’s office and a security gate. The boys were never allowed near this area, but Pascal remembered it from when he had first arrived, in the back of a van, with the promise of money and a better life ringing in his ears. It hadn’t taken him very long to realise that the promises were worthless, but at least his stay at the plantation had provided him with some respite from running away. Now he was about to run away all over again.