The Camel Trail

The Camel Trail - Chapter 2

Chapter Two

The house was steeped in silence. Kevin stirred and stretched as the first shards of sunlight filtered in through the flimsy blue curtains, drawing dappled patterns on the far wall. Reluctantly crawling out of bed and pulling on yesterday’s clothes, he unplugged the small fan heater and took it into his mother’s room. She lay on her stomach under the blanket, her left arm draped out over the edge, slender white fingers extending to the brown swirls on the worn carpet. He tucked her arm back in and crept out of the room.

In the bathroom, somewhere between an ear-popping yawn and the rumble of his empty stomach, he thought he heard voices coming from outside. He listened intently.

He put the toilet seat down, stood up on it, leaning against the porcelain cistern for balance, and cracked open the small frosted window high up above the sink, dust pluming in his face. He couldn’t see anyone at first.

‘Come on, just a couple more.’

Kevin leaned further out and saw Tessa and her son on the grass, Martin stretched out on a blanket, his mother kneeling in front of him, pushing and pulling at one of his legs, bending and twisting a foot.

‘That’s good. Keep pushing.’

Martin screwed his face up, not so much in pain, but as though it was an age-old ritual he hated performing but couldn’t avoid.

‘And then he said—’ Martin paused as his mother picked up his other leg and began the ritual all over again. ‘And then he said they won’t be ready for another few weeks. At least.’

‘I know,’ Tessa said. ‘I was there, remember?’

Kevin felt oddly guilty for eavesdropping, but it wasn’t as though they were talking secrets. They were out in the open for anyone to hear.

‘Okay,’ Tessa said. ‘That’s enough for now. Cocktail time. Let’s go.’

From the window, Kevin watched as Martin’s mother helped him up and into his wheelchair. Martin looked up, caught Kevin’s eye and waved. Kevin smiled, but his mouth was below the line of the open window and invisible to everyone below. And then they were gone.

He lingered there for a moment longer, staring down at the flattened grass where the blanket had been. Then, blinking, he closed the window and hopped down from his perch.

* * *

‘School,’ she said. Kevin groaned.

Sarah had managed to book an appointment for registration at the local school, hoping the two and a half months Kevin had missed this term wouldn’t hinder him. Or the school.

‘School’s boring.’

‘Sitting around the house all day is boring.’

‘Not as boring as school. You could teach me here. You’re brilliant at maths.’ He blinked, tilted his head, gave those eyes. The Look.

‘That look might get you out of PE once in a while, but it’s not enough to get you out of school.’ She pushed his shoulder. ‘Come on, get up. We can’t be late.’

‘If we’re late, will they not let me go?’

‘Nice try.’

She got him up, told him to put his jacket on, helped him out the front door with a gentle push between the shoulder blades.

When they got to the school gates, Kevin glanced up at the whitewashed building. They could see drawings and paintings facing out from some of the windows, a large clock above the front entrance, faded chalk lines marking games on the playground.