London's a funny place. It's full of tourists and litter, strange buildings and wind that nearly knocks you off your feet, when you round a corner. But it's my city, so I've got to live with it. Sometimes I wished I could make it better. But often I just shake my head and think it's too late. Nothing will ever change.
Mum's a tour guide at the Tower Experience. I don't know why anyone would want to go there, it's full of bad memories. Horrible things have happened there in the past. There were traitors nailed to the gates and people thrown in prison for years. But that's London for you. We have a great way of making the most of our past, no matter how horrid it might be.
Don't get me wrong, it's my kind of city. There's lots to do. There's Old Father Thames for a start. I like watching the boats go by or play along the beach with my friends. But then you take a look around, and you see things like the Tower. It makes you think. Where would we be without the tourists, even though we grumble at them. Would we go back to having entertainments like nailing traitors to doors? For that's what they did in the past, make a spectacle of horrid things. Keep people entertained.
London's a funny place. But I don't always feel like laughing.
I remember standing on a chair, my mum's friend holding on to my waist. We were trying to bake a cake. I was still really small, not up to holding the wooden spoon for long and churning the dough.
Raisins, bits of orange peel, but no almonds. Mum's allergic. That's how I remember it. That and lots of flour dust everywhere. Even in my face and hair. Mum had never baked a cake with me before. Her friend came round one day and said she'd teach me.
When we were done turning the dough over and over in the bowl, we poured the lot into a cake tin and watched the cake rise through the oven's glass door. I remember how impatient I was, and how nervous. Would it actually come up? Or would it stay in the bottom of the tin, like a really dry pancake?
Now that I'm older I can bake a cake on my own. There's nobody around to hold on to my waist. My mum's friend is gone, but when I smell fresh cake, I always think of her.
My sister is one of the world's most irritating people. So what if she's two years older than me and allowed to stay up later than me! Tina never stops rubbing in that I'm the baby of the family. What did mum and dad arrange for my birthday, thanks to her? A visit to the zoo, as if I were eight!
We arrived early enough for the animal's feeding times, so that was at least interesting. The zoo was divided into different habitats to make the animals more comfortable, I guess. When we came to the bit where the pandas were kept, we had to walk through a forest of bamboo first. That's what they like to eat best, so the zoo had planted lots of the stuff. In the middle of this green maze was a bench. I sat down, for by now my feet were aching, and looked up. The bamboo sticks all around me were about four metres tall, you couldn't see anything of what was going on either side of them. Mum and dad had walked on, so had Tina, but she stopped at the far end when she noticed I hadn't followed. What's up, she asked. Tired already?
I shook my head. "Just look at the sky, will you?"
She came back to sit next to me. We both looked up. The bamboo all around us whispered in the wind. Cloud formations chased each other across the sky. We spotted two kangaroos and one polar bear shape among them. Then there was one that looked a bit like a kettle. Or maybe a fat wallaby. While we'd been looking up into the sky, the bamboo around us had heaved in sighs. I noticed a smell that hadn't been there before. Vaguely like strawberries and cream. Or maybe strawberries and vanilla ice. When I looked down again, there was a little old lady standing right in front of us. She was ancient judging by her wrinkles.
"Come to see the pandas?" she said. We told her we were. It occurred to me that she might want a seat on the bench. I got up, so did Tina.
"Oh, don't leave on my account," the lady said.
Tina looked nervously towards the other end of the green tunnel. I followed her eyes. No sign of our parents. They'd gone ahead and not noticed we'd been left behind. I offered the lady my seat. She accepted and sat down heavily. She began telling us about the two pandas kept here at the zoo. What a lot of media circus there had been when the animals arrived. Reporters everywhere you looked, she said. Giant pandas were just so rare.
She said her name was Ruth. She knew a lot about many of the zoo's animals, but especially about pandas. She'd been to China, where they come from originally. But that was a long time ago, when her husband was still alive, she said. Pandas seemed to be terribly fussy eaters. The bamboo had to be just so, or they wouldn't eat it. That's why they were so rare now, their habitats were being destroyed and they couldn't find anything to eat, she said. Now they were protected by law.
After a while, she got up and left as silently as she'd arrived, walking towards the opposite end of where the panda enclosure was. She left a faint smell of strawberries and vanilla behind. Tina said, let's go, mum and dad are waiting, but I didn't follow her right away. I looked up into the sky and thought of China's bamboo forests. What it must be like to be totally lost in one of these green mazes that go on and on for miles. And how sad a panda family must feel when their forest is being cut down, getting smaller and smaller. All around me the bamboo heaved a sigh. Almost as if it agreed with me.
You never knew with Jamie. Some days he'd kick up a fuss when it was time for his bath, on other days he was really keen. Today was one of his better days, and he didn't mind. I guess it was because his friend Sam was there. I managed to get them both into the bath tub, then I dropped a few toys into the water. My little brother liked his blue submarine best, but Sam preferred the yellow rubber duck. I preferred putting my feet up, but nobody asked me.
As expected, they began to splash and throw their toys out of the bath. You could squirt water out of one end of Jamie's submarine and my brother made use of that fact. I got "shot" in my face, and so did Sam. He didn't like it and began to cry. When the two of them were the colour of rosy marshmellows, I judged it was time for them to come out. Jamie liked being rubbed down in his special bathrobe. Sam's mum had given me his earlier. I wished somebody pampered me.
When they were safely tucked up in bed, I read them a story, then I went to do my homework. Mum wouldn't be back until late. I went into the kitchen and stared at the washing-up piled high up in the sink. You wouldn't think that pizza for two small boys could cause so much mess. I cleared up and looked at the clock. Time to take mum's ready meal out of the freezer. I yawned. Time to have my bath.
Kai picked up the box, turned it over and shook it. No, batteries were not included. A quick search in the kitchen revealed that his mother had used the last pack for the fairy lights on the tree. Kai slunk back to the living room, fell into his chair and scowled. It was going to be a boring break. He stared at the control box and model plane, inwardly cursing. He'd have to wait until the shops re-opened after Christmas Eve.
All afternoon the telephone rang, relatives asking if he had already unwrapped his presents. He gave his standard reply: Thanks, it was cool. Even if there was nothing cool about the thing they'd given him. Aunt Chloe's video game was alright, but Granddad had given him a jumper that looked like something straight from the 1980s. And as for mum's present...but what could he say, she was his mother and mothers gave you daft things for birthdays and Christmas.
He eyed the model plane, all red and white and gleaming, and wished Christmas was over. A quick glance at the clock at the wall told him that it was a full 24 hours before his dad would come round to pick him up. Kai got up and checked that the small box in its blue and silver wrapping paper was still in its place under the tree. He picked it up and looked at the tag. To a great dad! Kai wondered if he'd go to hell for lying at Christmas. If he knew his dad, there'd be a phone call at 5 o'clock, cancelling the trip to the park. Or his dad would be so late tomorrow that they couldn't try out the plane, because it would be too dark. Or...but then, they didn't have batteries for the thing's control box anyway.
Kai picked up the plane and held it high above his head, enjoying the weight of the thing. Aerodynamics, thermodynamics...his dad had told him to look those terms up on the internet, but he'd forgotten. No time like the present. Kai put the plane down and turned on the laptop. His mother called from the kitchen, if he wanted a cup of tea or something. He shook his head, grunting a reply. Ten minutes later, he still didn't know what thermodynamics meant, but had a vague idea. It was a bit like holding a piece of paper over a heat source, it made the paper float upwards.
By 6 o'clock the phone had stopped ringing. Maybe, Kai thought, it was safe now. Dad might actually turn up the next day. He wondered if he should give him a call, just to make sure. He picked up the mobile, his thumb hovering over the thing, but then he put the mobile down again. This was silly. Dad would only think he was checking up on him again. It was nearly dinner time. Dad would be spending it with his new wife and her family. Kai pursed his lips, unsure what to do. He tried to focus on the plane. Then he picked up the mobile, dialled the number and waited.
A few rings later a grumpy voice answered. "What?"
"It's me, Dad."
"Oh, well, Merry Christmas and all that. I hadn't forgotten, if that's why you're ringing."
Kai took a deep breath. "No, I just called..." He stopped, searching for the next word. His eye fell on the plane. "I called to ask if you had any batteries for the plane tomorrow. We've run out."
There was a pause. "I'll have to ask Mary. Anything else? It's just, we were about to eat."
Kai thanked him and hung up. Later at dinner, his mother asked him who he'd spoken to on the phone earlier. He told her. She took his plate and refilled it with turkey and roast potatoes. He pushed the potatoes around on his plate for a while, then asked her if he could borrow the batteries from the fairy lights. Did they really need them on all through the day? She smiled. No, he could have them. Now that she came to think of it, a walk in the park tomorrow was not a bad idea.
I asked if I could pet his dog and he said yes. I was a bit scared at first, thinking the huge Alsation might bite me. It was a border guard's dog after all. It might not take kindly to the likes of me. For I am a refugee.
The man said the dog seemed to like me. It must have done, for my hand was still attached to my wrist, I thought. What's its name, I asked. The man smiled. Its name was Hope. That made my stomach wobble a bit. Hope, I didn't have a lot of it.
Hope sniffed my hand and licked my fingers. It tickled and made me feel good. But just for a moment. For I am a refugee, and hope is not for me.
The man pulled the dog a little closer to him and said, "Let's go." He directed me through the barrier, and I waved hope goodbye. The plane wouldn't wait for me, the man said. "You're going home."
Home is such a comforting word. But not for me, for I am a refugee.
There was one that was shaped like a snake, with blue and yellow stripes along its spine. Another looked like a bulbous fish, Puffer Fish, that's it. That one was quite pretty to look at, with a shimmering blue and green pattern across its front. I watched the oil drift across the water and wondered, what other clusters of animals might be on their way.
For a while there were just swirly patterns, a bit like the jumpers my grandmother used to knit until we stopped her. Then a hole cluster of shapes came along that made me laugh. A cow, a pig, two houses and a thing that looked like a cross between a dinosaur and a whale.
Then a bird happened along. It was covered in oil, its eyes filmy white, its beak still open as it must have gasped its last breath. Then a whole new cluster came drifting past. A gull or two, a cormorant. All covered in black slime. With blue and yellow shining out of their feathers. A small black wave covered them up, snuffing out their light.
I raised my eyes and scanned the beach. A few people were arriving, armed with sacks and dressed in waders and oil skins. They'd come to clear away the clusters. But I would never forget.