Free A Man Melting by Craig Cliff Page B

up into his arms even though I wasn’t a baby anymore and carried me into Daniel’s room.
    We both sat there watching my baby brother sleep for a long time, until Dad asked, ‘Do you remember when Asterix died?’
    Asterix was the kitten I got for my fifth birthday, but it had asthma so bad it had to be put down after one month.
    ‘Of course I remember,’ I said.
    ‘And do you remember how, when we told you Mummy was pregnant with Daniel, you said it was better not to tell the baby about Asterix because it would just make it sad?’
    I didn’t remember saying this exactly, but I nodded.
    ‘Dedo was just protecting you.’
    I had almost forgotten about Dedo lying to me, but this reminded me and I felt angry again.
    ‘I don’t need protecting,’ I told him.
    My father put his hand on my head, as he sometimes did in the supermarket to steer me away from the lolly aisle, but this time he didn’t steer me, he just left his hand there.
    ‘Should I tell Daniel about Asterix, do you think?’ I asked my dad.
    ‘Maybe you should tell Dedo.’
    Daniel rolled over onto his back and his face went red and I could tell he was about to cry because I had watched him sleep before. For some reason Dad didn’t try to shush him. We just let him cry. When Mum said something from the doorway, I kept watching Daniel. When Dad turned to explain, his hand, still on my head like an octopus, turned me as well.

Give Me Bread and
Call Me Stupid
    When Bembe Hernandez realised his recruitment agent was stalking him, he wasn’t sure what to think. He had never been the subject of a crush before, had never even had a woman approach him at a bar or a note passed to him in class saying someone’s friend liked him. That his recruitment agent, a young local named Lindsey, would fancy him — an idiom he had picked up since moving to Edinburgh — flushed Bembe with a feeling he could only guess was orgullo . Pride. But he had a girlfriend (with whom he had made the first move, and the second, and the third) and he wasn’t looking to trade Rosa in.
    In Madrid, Rosa had worked in the wing of the Reina Sofia which housed Guernica , though she was still a few years of Gargallos and Mirós away from keeping watchover Picasso’s famous mural. She’d needed a certain amount of English in her job, as did Bembe at the Spanish Treasury, but both felt that in learning English at school they had been given a box of crayons but were now allowed to use only blue-violet and forest green.
    Way back when Bembe had made his first move on Rosa, she had teased him for looking Scottish. Though his hair was a shade lighter than the average Madrileño, his cheeks flecked with freckles, he was unlikely to have made the cut as an extra in Braveheart . But even when the joke was forgotten, they continued to discuss spending a year in Britain to revive their flagging English. When a security guard began paying Rosa an unnatural amount of attention, it was the final push they needed to stop talking about it and book plane tickets.
    Their choice of Edinburgh was nothing to do with Bembe’s appearance, at least as far as he was concerned. It was the fact that everyone said the people were friendlier there than in London (it never occurred to him that an excess of friendliness would be a problem) and he could still work in finance and Rosa in one of the many museums in the Scottish capital.
    But the job hunt was full of frustrations. They only wanted to stay for one year — real life could only be put on hold for so long — but all of the jobs they circled were permanent. No one seemed willing to bend the rules.
    When Bembe spoke to recruitment firms, explained his skills and the type of job he was after, they were always enthusiastic — until he raised the twelve months.
    ‘That’ll mean you’re after temporary roles,’ Barbara fromBooks Recruitment had said.
    ‘I guess so.’
    ‘Okay. Well, you can still come in for an interview. But you’ll be seeing Lindsey,