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‘I’m his girlfriend,’ I explain as I look in my handbag for my purse to see what money I’ve got. ‘He’s been missing from home.’
She shrugs. ‘Maybe he don’t want anyone to know where he is.’
While I’m still struggling, Nina pulls a twenty out of her purse and hands it over. The younger of the two stubs her cigarette out on the pavement, grinding it down with her heel. ‘Yeah, I know him,’ she says. ‘He’s been round here a while.’
My heart starts beating faster. ‘Do you know where he is now?’
‘No,’ she says. ‘Haven’t seen him tonight. We’ve only just got here. He often kips down there though.’ She flicks a thumb back towards the arches.
It looks like a hellhole.
‘Thanks,’ I say. ‘If you see him, please tell him that Janie’s looking for him.’
They both shrug and the older one pockets the twenty.
Mike takes my hand as I head towards the entrance to the tunnel-like arch. ‘Sure you want to do this? I’ll go by myself while you two stay in the car.’
‘No,’ I say. ‘I’d be happier if we all go together.’
‘I second that,’ Nina says and she gets hold of Mike’s other hand.
So, clinging together, we head into the damp archway, listening to rattling coughs, the occasional dog bark, a man singing Danny Boy into his bottle. Most of the people ignore us. Some call out, asking for money, but in their voices you can tell that there’s no hope of success. It’s filthy in here and I’m glad that it’s dark because there’s no telling what might be underfoot. A torch would have been useful, but I didn’t think to bring one. We pick our way gingerly through the rubbish, calling out Dominic’s name as we go.
‘Here,’ a voice shouts. ‘I’m Dominic.’
Instantly, I can tell by the tone that it’s not my Dominic. Another call comes from the other side of the tunnel. ‘I’m Dominic.’
That’s not him either.
‘I’m Dominic.’ Followed by hysterical laughter.
‘Oh, shut the fuck up, the lot of you,’ Nina retorts to no one and everyone.
‘Very funny,’ I grumble, again to no one and everyone. But then I think that there must be precious little to laugh about on the streets and you can’t blame them for having a joke at our expense. Still, it’s not helping our quest and I have to say that I’m very reluctant to venture into the piles of boxes to ask individuals if they’ve seen a Maasai warrior hanging around here.
‘This is useless,’ I complain. ‘They’re all bloody “Dominic”. How are we going to find him in here?’ Then I have a brainwave. ‘Guys,’ I say, ‘whistle the ringtone from 24.’
‘What?’ Nina looks perplexed.
‘Trust me. It’s my Maasai sound. If Dominic’s here, he’ll recognise it instantly.’
My friend shrugs. ‘OK.’
Mike nods his agreement too. He and I have spent enough time together following the trials and tribulations of the indestructible Jack Bauer for Mike to be able to replicate it without any prompting from me.
We all whistle as we go and, strangely, it somehow makes me feel more hopeful, but as the minutes go by and there’s no response, the desolation begins to overwhelm me and I too feel as if there’s no chance of Dominic being here. Bloody Maasai noise! It might well work on the wide open plains of Africa, but here in the bleakness of this cardboard city, it’s holding no truck.
‘This is hopeless,’ I say to my companions.
‘Let’s keep going until the end,’ Mike says, pointing to the back of the archway where there’s a huge pile of boxes. He puts his arm under my elbow and urges me forward.
Then my heart leaps into my mouth as I catch a flash of bright red in the gloom. I put my hand on my friends’ arms. ‘Mike! Nina!’
They both swivel and focus on where I’m looking. A smile breaks out on their faces and, as one, we bound forward to the pile of cardboard boxes. Sure enough, inside, Dominic is huddled in his kanga, a stick at his side. As on the television, he looks exhausted and dirty, bruised and a bit battle scarred, but otherwise he seems well. His head is tucked down and even though his blanket is pulled up, he’s shivering. Even when we stand in front of him, he doesn’t acknowledge our presence.
‘Dominic,’ I say softly.
At that, he starts and his eyes snap open. I drop to my knees in front of him and wrap my arms around him, weeping now. ‘We’ve come to take you home.’
‘I do not know where my home is, Just Janie,’ he says.
