'You mean the accident. No, my mum just told me about it. She heard about it in Safeway. Did you see?'
'No, dammit. I was doing my report for Ol' Noddy Bennett. Who d'you think it was?'
Andrew rose up on his toes as the attendants lifted the stretcher into the van. The body was entirely covered by a sheet. 'Dunno. He's dead. Can't see his face.' His throat was tight and his eyes burned to cry.
As he surveyed the crowd, Andrew saw the old man with a police officer, his bony hand over his face, hiding his tears, shaking his head. When he took his hand away from his face to get a handkerchief, he turned to look right at Andrew, as if he knew the boy was there. His eyes lingered on him until Andrew felt his stomach clench. Then the old man turned back to the police officer and blew his nose.
'I hate missing all the blood and guts,' Frank complained. 'Bet it's someone from school. Probably that big baby, Tim Broadbank. His mum won't let him cross the street without holding her hand still . He's a year ahead of us, you know.'
'Tim? No. Don't think so. I saw a boy with his granddad an hour ago up by my house. They were standing at the nailer's cottage. The granddad is right over there with the police crying his bloody eyes out. It had to be his grandson.'
'D'you know them?' Frank rubbed his hands together.
Andrew shook his head. 'Tourists. They had the look.'
'Just think. You go on a trip with your granddad and end up going home in a coffin. That's a sodding awful vacation if I ever heard'
Andrew couldn't take his eyes off the old man. Frank went on talking but he didn't really hear. The old man didn't look at him again, but Andrew watched for his eyes to wash over him again. He shivered.
' so they stuck these big pins in his eyes.'
'Pins?' He turned to see Frank going on. 'Hey, Frank, I had better get on. Supper'll be ready and my mum wasn't happy to let me come out here as it is.'
'Yeah, well, all right. If I find anything out, I'll tell you Monday. See you.'
'Right, see you.' He gave the old man one more lingering glance, then walked away. Just as Andrew turned up Green Street thinking of his supper, the old man searched the crowd.
Andrew's legs felt leaden as he trudged up his street. He wanted to go to the old man, comfort him. Even as he felt it, he knew it was unreasonable. He didn't know this stranger about who everything seemed suspiciously odd. As he reached his door, he wondered if he had just spoken to the old man, kept them a few minutes more, the boy might not have been killed.
The next morning, Andrew grabbed up the Belper News from the doorstep. He was certain there would be a report of the accident. Not much qualified as news in town. This was frontpage stuff. And there it was.
Visitor Accident
By Rosalie Bishop
A man and his ten-year-old ward, travelling through England, stopped in Belper on their way to Matlock Baths. At approximately 5.00 p.m., they were crossing at the triangle near the Mill Park when a lorry, on its way to Derby, hit the boy who was killed on impact. The two visitors were unfamiliar with the traffic patterns in that area and the boy stepped out in front of the lorry. The driver was not at fault in this tragic accident. The boy's guardian plans to return to his native Turkey within the week. Local families have rallied to give the man a place to stay and meals until his plane departs from Heathrow on Thursday. Anyone interested in giving aid or expressing sympathies can contact Elizabeth Horner at the Methodist Chapel.
Andrew was now more curious than before. Turkey . He'd never much thought about people living there, though he'd heard of it in geography. What he did know was that he loved Turkish delight. The rosy jelly centre with the yummy chocolate all around made him think of the occasional bouts of happiness his mother had, when she bought them a bag of sweets, always with some Turkish delight for Andrew. Did Turkish delight originate in Turkey? Was the jelly part Turkish or the chocolate or both? For once, he couldn't wait for Monday. He'd go straight to the school library after class.
The library was a small room that had once been a supply cabinet and coat room. Books lined every wall and two half-sized bookcases divided the room. Paintings done by the infants covered the wall over the librarian's desk. Andrew loved the smell of the books and the ancient oiled tables where students could read. The library was empty except for Miss Eklund, a woman the kids called the Swede. She was in her fifties, wore her hair clipped short, had funny little hairs on her chin and smelled of men's aftershave. The Swede was actually a wrestler, and Miss Eklund had a stocky build like a man, hence the moniker. She let the girls get away with murder and slapped the back of boys' heads if they spoke.
He had a book on Turkey when Frank appeared around the corner. He grabbed at Andrew's sleeve to see the book. He scanned it then looked over at Miss Eklund who was deep into stamping loan cards.
'Hey, you get in trouble when you got in Friday?'
'Naw. You?'
'Hell, no. Nobody comes home until late at my house. My dad goes straight to the pub from work and my mum well, she's with her friends a lot. Nick's living with his girlfriend in Sheffield now, so it's just me.'
'Did you see anything after I left?'
Frank took the book on Turkey from Andrew's hand. 'Hey, did you know that the old guy is from Turkey? I was standing there while this lady was asking him about the kid.'
Andrew put the book under his arm. 'Yeah? Really? What'd you hear? I read the newspaper but it doesn't say much.'
'He was staying at the Hollingshead Hotel. The kid wasn't his grandson, but a friend of the family. He was taking the kid to the baths because he had some kind of illness. Leukaemia or something. Hell, the baths don't do anything and anybody who knows something knows that. It's just a tourist attraction. A joke, really.'
'Wow. I saw the kid. He looked sad or sick. Weak like. Maybe he was going to die anyway.' Andrew watched
