watched the stream of traffic heading into the city. The sky had turned a pale green with the rising mist, but it was still cold.
A tall blond man strolled out of the city gates and began to walk towards us. He stopped a little way in front and took up a waiting position, his eyes fixed on the road.
‘Where are you going?’ Mum called to him eventually, when two cars had failed to stop for either him or us. He was very thin and his trousers looked like he had made them himself. ‘Where are you going?’ Mum asked again, when he came near.
The Hitcher raised his hands in a questioning gesture and muttered something, his voice full of muddy words.
Mum repeated her question in French and then in Arabic. If Bea were here, I thought, she’d make him understand. Mum pointed down the road. ‘Algiers?’
‘Ah, Algiers.’ He nodded and smiled. ‘Algiers.’
Not long after, a truck stopped. Mum and I sat in the high cab with the driver. The Hitcher climbed into the open back and settled himself among the straw and droppings of a recent load of sheep.
‘Algiers?’ Mum asked as we climbed in.
‘Algiers?’ she asked again more anxiously as we began to pick up speed. The driver raised one eyebrow and pressed his foot hard on the accelerator.
Our truck rattled along in a breathtaking race. Everything on the road had to be overtaken. Even a single donkey warranted an ear-piercing blast of the horn to signal our approach. I kept my eyes glued to the road. I was sure if I removed them for a second we would dissolve in a splintering crash of metal.
The sun rose slowly in the sky, heating the truck into a burning grid as I watched the road unfold. With a great effort and tearing of eyes I forced myself to twist away. I peered at the Hitcher. He lay face down in a pile of straw with his shirt over his head.
The driver brought the truck to an abrupt stop. He slid out of his seat and, taking a carefully wrapped parcel of food, walked over to a nearby tree. Mum and I climbed stiffly after him. The driver looked unencouraging as we approached but the tree was the only shade in sight and the sun was beating a hole through the top of my head. Little sparks of white light danced before my eyes.
‘Mad dogs and Englishmen,’ Mum sang half-heartedly.
Mum and I shared an orange and ate half the loaf of bread she had in her bag. The driver finished his lunch and fell asleep sitting upright against the trunk of the tree.
‘Are we nearly there?’ I asked, and Mum said she wasn’t sure but she thought about halfway.
The Hitcher slept through the afternoon and only woke up when we stopped at a house that served supper. ‘Algiers?’ he asked as if he had just remembered who he was.
The driver shook his head and Mum said, ‘No, but I think we should be there soon. We must have been going for twelve hours at least.’
‘Henning.’ The Hitcher pointed to himself.
After we’d eaten and sat for a while listening to the unintelligible crackle of the radio, the driver made his way back to the truck. It was night and the air was warm and thick with the smell of earth.
‘Can we sit in the back with Henning?’ I asked, dreading the surly racket of the cab.
Henning began to chat happily to Mum.
‘It was only recently,’ Mum interrupted him as if she understood every one of his words and was simply carrying on the conversation, ‘that I became really interested in the Sufi.’
Henning said something of which only the words ‘Henning’ and ‘Algiers’ were recognizable.
I lay back and looked up at the sky. The stars here were different from the stars in Marrakech. They were jagged and white and they crowded out the sky. Under the low murmur of Henning’s monologue I listened to the crickets and the stillness of the air.
‘We’re not moving,’ Mum said all of a sudden, interrupting everything. ‘I’ve only just realized, we’re not actually going anywhere.’ She stood up and looked through the narrow window into the cab. ‘He’s asleep,’ she said. ‘He’s sitting there and he’s fast asleep.’ Then she began to laugh. ‘Well, it doesn’t look like we’ll be arriving tonight after all.’ Mum lay down in the straw. ‘Tomorrow. God willing. Inshallah.’ And she closed her eyes.
Henning was wide awake. He sat directly across from