‘Are you a Christian?’ Jessie thought there might be a Christian community in Syria.
‘I’m not an anything.’
‘Okay.’ Jessie was meek.
‘Secular.’ Perla gave a smile. ‘People like to label us. Asylum-seekers, I mean.’ She was halfway through the glass of wine, and a more relaxed, sparkly woman was emerging. ‘I just thought I was middle-class.’
‘R-really?’
‘I know.’ Another smile, more twinkly this time. ‘You think we all lived in stone huts and I had to wear the burqa. But I am a doctor.’
A doctor!
‘My husband worked in IT. We had a beautiful air-conditioned apartment in Damascus, two cars, a holiday home. On weekends we went to the mall and bought stuff we didn’t need. There were lots like us.’
Right. Well. That was them told, thought Jessie. ‘How come your English is so good?’
‘Lessons as a child.’ Perla shrugged and smiled. ‘And I’ve been living in Ireland for five years.’
‘So what happened?’ Ferdia asked. ‘That you ended up here?’
‘The war. When the fighting in Damascus got too dangerous, we moved to Palmyra, a smaller city. Temporarily. I got a job. There was no work for my husband, but he took care of Kassandra. And we waited for life to get back to normal.’
‘I’m guessing it didn’t,’ Johnny said.
‘One morning we woke up to black flags and bearded men with machine-guns. They came to our home.’
‘Jesus,’ Ferdia muttered.
‘They didn’t like me being alone with men in my consulting room.’
Ferdia shook his head. ‘So they told you to stop?’
‘They told my husband to stop me.’
‘Like he was your controller?’ Ferdia tightened his lips. ‘And did he? Stop you? No. You’re brave.’
‘We needed the money. I stopped going to my clinic, but people visited me at home. In secret. But somebody informed.’
‘And did they … hurt you?’ Jessie asked.
‘Me? No. But my husband … They took him to the square and … they killed him.’ She swallowed. ‘Eventually.’
‘What happened?’ Jessie asked, in a near-whisper.
Perla dropped her eyes.
Ferdia glared at Jessie, who quickly muttered, ‘Sorry. Sorry. I’m so sorry.’ After a period of respectful silence had elapsed, Jessie said gently, ‘We’re so sorry for all that you’ve suffered. Let me get you more wine.’
‘Thank you, Jessie.’ Perla gave a small smile. ‘More wine would be very, very good.’
Unexpectedly, they all got quite drunk quite quickly.
‘Maybe we should eat now?’ Jessie suggested. Before they were entirely incapable …
The younger kids joined them for the starters, before losing interest and asking for ice-cream.
‘What about the special Syrian lamb?’ Jessie demanded of them. ‘It’s coming now.’
‘No,’ Bridey said. ‘We’ve had enough. We’re kids, we don’t need as much food as adults.’
‘Kassandra wants ice-cream,’ Dilly said.
‘Fine.’ Jessie was too tipsy to care. ‘You know where it lives.’
Jessie, followed by Johnny, went into the kitchen to fetch the lamb dish.
‘Fond of the wine, isn’t she?’ Johnny said, getting another bottle from the fridge.
Jessie rounded on him. ‘Wouldn’t you be?’
‘I wasn’t saying … I only meant it’s good. It’s normal. She’s normal.’
‘Sorry. I’m a bit pissed.’
Everyone oohed and aahed at the smell of the lamb but Jessie insisted Perla taste it first.
She took a forkful, chewed, swallowed and paused. ‘Who made this?’
‘I got the recipe from the internet,’ Jessie said. ‘Is it all right?’
‘It’s so good.’ Alarmingly, Perla began to cry. ‘It reminds me of home.’
‘Cry away,’ Jessie urged. ‘No one here minds. Cry your heart out. Is it awful being an asylum-seeker?’
‘Mum!’ Ferdia said. Then, to Perla, ‘I apologize on behalf of my mother.’
‘No, don’t. People tiptoe around my situation and it is good to speak. I am happy that Kassandra and I are alive but, yes, it is awful being an asylum-seeker.’
‘Is it true that you have to sleep in a dormitory?’ Jessie asked. ‘That you get terrible food served in a communal canteen?’
‘All true. The food is usually disgusting.’ She swigged from her glass and almost smiled. ‘There is no privacy, ever. People from eleven different countries live in the dorm with us. We all have different manners, so it’s a challenge … But what truly kills any joy in life are the countless small indignities.’
‘Like what?’ Jessie asked tentatively.
‘Like …’ Perla eyed Johnny and Ferdia ‘… I apologize to the men for saying this, I do not mean to embarrass. But not having the money for tampons is particularly depressing.’
Johnny began an intense staring competition with his knees.