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slept.

CHAPTER SIX
    Old Mama Siska sat at her open door as she had been sitting every day, still as a statue, watching the shop opposite take shape. It was almost ready. In the last couple of days the butcher and his son had moved tables and a meat safe inside. Now her neighbour’s son, Robert, was helping. They brought the counter in from the house behind. The boys came out and fixed wire gauze over the window, then they hung a curtain of green fishnet over the doorway to keep out the flies. Now she could see nothing. With great force she spat her wad of tobacco on to the ground, got up and went inside.
    In the shop, Joshua and Robert polished the counter till it gleamed, swept the concrete floor and helped Joshua’s father fix meat hooks to the ceiling beams.
    Twice Joshua almost told Robert about the carving. Twice he shut his mouth again and said nothing.
    The next day the pig arrived from Oliver and was killed. Half was set aside for the hotel. His father wrapped up big pieces in banana leaves and then in newspaper and put them in a round, shallow basket.
    Joshua put the basket on his head.
    ‘Don’t dawdle today, will you. Come straight back,’ his father ordered.
    Joshua set off at a steady trot for the hotel. He tipped the meat into the box Oliver held out to him and put the basket back on his head. If he was quick, he could go back via the hospital.
    ‘What’s the hurry?’ Oliver asked, surprised.
    ‘Our shop’s opening. Will you come?’
    ‘Sure.’
    Joshua had barely waited for his answer before he was running back down the path, heading for the hospital . He ran round and stood under the window, panting . He counted to two hundred. He looked in the sand, under the bushes.
    Nothing.
    He ought to be going. He whistled. He counted one more hundred.
    Still nothing.
    By the time he got back, all was ready. His father had arranged the different cuts of pork on the wide shelf beneath the counter. There were sausages too, thick and shiny in their skins, and glistening liver and heart and kidneys, all laid out under a fine net to stop the flies getting at them. There were pigs’ trotters, tied together in pairs, and there was fat, which Joshua’s father had melted down and put into tins that Joshua had salvagedfrom the rubbish heap and scrubbed thoroughly. It all looked so smart and new and exciting that Joshua forgot his disappointment over the mountain man.
    ‘We’ve done well, Josh,’ his father said. ‘Thanks for all your help.’
    Joshua stood proudly beside his father, waiting to see who would be first to visit the shop. It smelled different in here. Outside, the smell of the meat had mingled with the salty breeze from the sea, the hot dust and the scent of ripe fruit. Here there was cool stone, and the tang of newly laid morter made his nostrils tingle. There was no wind this morning; the fishnet curtain over the doorway hung perfectly still.
    A figure appeared outside. Old Mama Siska. She shuffled in, pulling the curtain with her. As she reached the counter, the fishnet slid from her shoulders and swung back into position. She peered at the pair behind the counter and made the sign of the cross. Her eyes flickered over the shop, examining it, looking for changes made since the netting on the window and door had blocked it from her eyes. Joshua shifted his feet uneasily. He had never seen her smile, and she wasn’t now.
    ‘No meat for me,’ she said in a throaty whisper. ‘Can’t chew it. Anyway, I don’t like the stuff. Can’t think why you want to sell it.’ She paused for breath.
    Joshua and his father waited. His father’s smile didn’t waver.
    ‘I’ve brought you something,’ she went on. Her hands fumbled at her long, wide skirt, plucking at the folds, searching.
    ‘Help her.’ Joshua’s father gave him a push in her direction.
    Reluctantly, Joshua went round the other side of the counter and stood close to the old lady. Mama Siska was shorter even than he was and the cotton of