Page 18 of A Festive Surprise

‘They follow the same principle. But I will struggle to get a job without the right qualifications. I was lucky to know Archie. He offers me this and I take it. I was desperate. And now I start, it’s not so bad.’

‘You’re doing a good job,’ said Per. ‘You could get a qualification in this if you wanted, but it seems a waste if you’re already qualified for something else.’

‘It won’t be easy to get a job in this country doing computing. Before I got my refugee status, I wasn’t permitted to work. Asylum seekers cannot get jobs here. After, I tried, but I had nowhere to live. I slept rough for some weeks. None of it is good when applying for work. I don’t even have a computer now. Only a phone. So I stick with this job.’

‘Dear me, lad.’ Per clapped him on the shoulder. ‘You’ve had a terrible ride.’

‘Ya’ni.’ Farid thrust his hands into his pockets. ‘Don’t worry about it. I’m here now.’

‘You are. And I’m glad you’re safe.’

‘Thank you.’

They set to work putting the markers in place. Farid made the calculations. Mike powered up the saw and before long, the interloping spruce keeled to the ground, leaving the indigenous woodland to breathe again. While Mike trimmed off the branches and cut the trunk into manageable sections, Per and Farid trudged deeper into the wood. Per examined the trees, marking a couple with spray paint that were to come down next.

‘Do you have family?’ he asked Farid as he waded through the straggly undergrowth.

‘Parents, yes, and two sisters. Other family too, but no wife and no children.’

‘You’re a young man; there’s no rush.’

‘It might be a long time before I can go back. Maybe never.’

‘You might meet someone here.’

Holly jumped to the forefront, waving in his face, ever present, like a brain worm gnawing away at him. Nothing would fully shake her from his mind. ‘I suppose I might. I just don’t know if it’s quite right.’

‘It’s the modern world, Farid.’ Per slashed an X onto a tree trunk with his paint spray. ‘People are people all over the world. You’re allowed to date someone here if you want to.’

In principle, he didn’t mind the idea. ‘I just wonder what my family will think. What if I meet someone and they can never see her? It’s so difficult.’

‘Yes. I get what you mean. That’s not easy. My two older boys are married to Americans and even that can be hard sometimes, sharing between the families, so what you’re up against is much worse. But don’t feel lonely. If you want company, call around the house. It’s called Tighnatraigh and it’s just outside Salen, a mile up from the Glen Lodge Hotel, call in any time. My wife and I will be thrilled to have you.’

‘Thank you, that’s very kind.’

Per patted him on the back and warm, fatherly affection flowed from the older man’s hand. No one could replace his father, but Per could join the rank of uncle. Farid’s fondness for his colleague burned strong, refreshing his sense of purpose.

Darkness closed around them as the afternoon drew on. ‘We’ll call it a day,’ said Per as they shared the logs into their vehicles. ‘We can’t do much else without daylight.’

Days were short in the winter and Farid looked forward to the promise of long days in the summer. In midsummer, according to Georgia, there were barely three hours of dark and even during those hours, you could see clearly. How magical. In Syria, there were long nights in December but even in summer, the sun set by eight, closing hot days with cool evenings.

Farid drove back to the cottage. When he arrived, pitch black had descended. The lights on Holly’s side of the building glowed, warm and welcoming. Farid jumped out of the pickup. Stars dotted the sky, twinkling like a net of gems. Cold air nipped. How like the starry night candle he’d sniffed that morning. He kept his eyes skyward, finding familiar constellations. Even though he was so far from home, the skies were constant. Perhaps his mother and sisters were looking up at the same stars. The thought wrapped around him like a warm blanket, giving him hope. I wish I could see your faces and give you a hug. I love you.

A door clicked and Farid rolled his neck, peering toward the house. Holly was silhouetted in her doorframe.

‘Is that you, Farid?’ she called.

‘Yes, me. Are you ok?’

‘I’m fine. Well, I’m freezing but I heard a car drawing up, then no one came to the door and I didn’t hear your door, so I wondered what was going on.’

‘I’m stargazing. You should too. Come see.’

‘I’m not exactly dressed for it. It’s so cold outside. Hang on. Let me grab a coat and some shoes.’

Farid rubbed his hands together and blew on them. Moments later, Holly’s gate creaked, and she sidled up beside him.

‘What am I to look at?’

---