Xoriyo knows what Mother and Father are doing. No one wants to go back to Angel Lodge so they follow the boys. The boys don’t know they are leading the family, they’re just following their noses, excited and full of cake, exploring Wakefield.
Wake Field, some land not sleeping.
Muxsin pulls Mrs Osman’s shawl, ‘Are we going to see that lady again?’
‘We may be leaving tomorrow.’
Xoriyo laughs, ‘You say that every day.’
Xoriyo thinks Wake Field should be called Many High Buildings. Not high like Dubai but high compared with home. In Wake Field they even bother with the outsides of their buildings high up where no one can see; they paint bits of metal, make patterns in the stone, put up clocks and people her father tells her about, like the white Queen of Just Is and their Jesus hung with his arms out and their black Victory Queen.
Wake Field should be called Many Different Clothes, the guards from the prison all dark in two and threes, these black and gold school boys in a line, the old soldiers with shiny buttons and swords outside the big church yesterday and now these men with hats and, Xoriyo peers to see if they are swords or sticks. Toys really, not much good if a technical and a bunch of mooryan came round the corner.