To Catch a Rabbit by Helen Cadbury Page A

filled the van with sound.

Chapter Eleven

    Florence Moyo sat in the boardroom with her hands on the table in front of her, fingers gripping the side as if she was holding on to a ledge.
    ‘There are some kind people in our church,’ she said, ‘but it is not enough. My husband is ashamed that we have to accept charity. He doesn’t know I am here. Please, is there anything you can do to speed things up?’
    Jaz looked at his notes and then at Mrs Moyo. ‘We’re doing everything we can. It’s complicated. The Home Office thinks that everyone should apply for asylum as soon as they arrive, at the port of entry.’
    ‘We were told not to. We were told we would be sent back if we did that.’
    Karen knew from Mr Moyo’s testimony that they’d used an agent, paid a lot of money for so-called help, which had turned out to be worthless. Jaz told her they might have got asylum from Zimbabwe if they’d gone through the proper channels, but the borrowed passport counted against them.
    ‘We’re going to have to find a way to prove you are not, in fact, South African. We’ll have to explain why you didn’t have your own papers.’ Jaz’s voice was calm and gentle, but Florence Moyo was restless. ‘If Mr Moyo wants me to go through it again with him?’
    ‘He’s gone to find work, with my daughter. A man has told him there is some work.’
    It was illegal for them to work, but Karen understood they had to eat.
    ‘I thought Elizabeth was at school?’ she said.
    ‘She’s nearly sixteen.’ Florence Moyo sounded defensive. ‘Look, if we play by your rules, we will starve.’
    Jaz put his hand in his inside pocket. ‘There might be some funding you can apply for, but meanwhile, I’d rather your daughter was able to stay in school, please, let me help.’ He took three twenty-pound notes out of the wallet. ‘Just a loan.’
    Florence Moyo got to her feet unsteadily. She seemed to sway for a moment, her eyes fixed on the opposite wall. Then she walked out of the office with her head held high. Jaz folded the money and put it back in his jacket.
    At the school gates Karen was the last of the Year Two parents to pick up.
    ‘There’s Mummy, at last !’ Mrs Leith forced a smile. Ben ran to Karen and fished her hand out of her coat pocket, gripping it in his own.
    ‘I’m on a new book. The dog’s not in this one. What’s for tea?’
    ‘Good. Or bad, if you like the dog. Fish fingers?’
    ‘Yeah!’
    She held Ben’s hand as they crossed the road. He was telling her about an argument with his best friend but she didn’t hear the words, just the cues to nod or shake her head. She was thinking about Mrs Moyo and trying to imagine what she must be feeling. Florence Moyo had said she would do anything to keep her family safe. Since Karen had come back from her visit to Stacey, she’d done nothing more about trying to find Phil. That was useless, pathetic, when she had none of the problems Mrs Moyo had to face.
    ‘…anyway,’ Ben was saying, ‘it can’t be true, because you are the biggest Mummy at school. You’re almost as big as Mr Evans and he’s the headteacher.’
    ‘Tallest, you mean I’m the tallest. Biggest makes me sound…’
    ‘Fat?’
    ‘Cheeky boy!’ she laughed and pretended to chase him. Just now, if anyone was watching, they would think what a jolly mum she was, a catalogue mum, kicking up the dead leaves, her corduroy skirt matching his dark red scarf. They thundered down the pavement and arrived together, breathless, at the front door.
    When Ben was safely in front of children’s TV, she went into the kitchen and picked up the phone. The girl at Doncaster Central Police Station left her on hold for seven minutes. She counted it on the kitchen clock. She should have been on to this sooner. Charlie Moon was right, a thirty-two year old man, with all his faculties, was not a priority case, so she was going to have to be pushy. The line let out an intermittent beep and an electronic voice