then it was almost twenty years since she had last seen him. The memory of those days flooded through her as she recalled them without effort, especially that very last day. He was holding Abed in his arms, talking to him, and then he gave him a soft toy he had brought as a present, hidden under his tunic so that none of the other soldiers would see it. She recalled the heart-breaking words as he explained that he could never see them again. As she lay there staring up at him she wanted to cry, but she was spent and could not summon one more drop of sorrow, as if a lifetime of pain and tears had finally emptied her of those resources. All she could do was look at the Israeli she had once loved, the father of her son, and accept that he was here at her side. He had come to say goodbye and despite everything that had happened over the years, she was glad.
She tried once more to say something, but the words would not come.
‘Give me some water,’ he said to one of the women who quickly obeyed, handing him a small cup. He placed the edge against her lips and allowed a little liquid to trickle into them.
‘David,’ she suddenly murmured, as if the word had come from elsewhere other than her lips.
‘Don’t talk,’ he said softly and with deep affection as he took hold of her thin hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. ‘It’s been a long time,’ he continued after a thoughtful pause. ‘I never thought I would see you again . . . I’m glad I came.’
She thought about the other women in the room, what they might make of this, for he was without a doubt Israeli, but then almost immediately she realised how pointless her fears were. It was not twenty years ago. What did it matter? David was old, Abed was gone and she was dying.
It felt strange being called David after so many years, for that was not his real name. He could never have risked telling her who he was for many reasons, but primarily because of his own survival. Israelis did not fraternise with Palestinians without great personal risk, especially Israelis like him. He wondered if she had an inkling of who he was now. His picture had been in the papers on occasion, which had never been wise considering his position, but it could not always be helped. But then again, she probably never read the Israeli papers, since they were unwanted and not sold openly in Gaza. Perhaps she was wondering how he had the ability to enter this camp since it was illegal for Israelis to cross into Palestinian territory. But she was so close to death, why should he expect her to be cognisant enough to consider any of that.
He looked at her, frail beyond her years, unable to see the beautiful girl he had fallen in love with all that time ago. She could not be much more than forty, if that, but she looked much, much older. He could only wonder at the life she must have led in this hellhole that had turned her into this pitiful wretch. He knew she was dying from utter despair. She was not the first in these camps and would not be the last.
‘Abed,’ she suddenly uttered. Perhaps it was a question, or she was trying to tell him their son was not here. He knew Abed had gone from Gaza, and much more than that, for it was his business to know.
‘It’s okay,’ he said softly. ‘Don’t worry about anything . . . Be at peace, my darling.’ He smiled.
She was comforted by his words, why, she did not know, but he always had that power. Those nights, when she would meet him in secret, though she was always fearful of being found out, he would talk to her and make her feel at ease. When they were together it was just them, he used to tell her, and the whole world did not exist. She had believed him because she had wanted to, and she believed him now.
A slight smile formed on her lips and spread to her eyes, and at once he could see her, the little girl he had loved, and his heart was suddenly filled with sadness and pity. These were emotions he had managed to stifle his entire professional life and now he was