was suddenly standing beside him. Adrian wondered if he always made his entrances like this, sly and ghostlike. He shook Adrian’s hand, but in a distancing way, as if to keep him at arm’s length. He looks devious, Adrian thought; even his admiring glances round the hotel foyer lacked sincerity. Fifteen minutes later they were back in the airport lounge with Anne and Mujtabaa.
‘He didn’t sleep well,’ said the nurse. ‘I think he found it very noisy with all the aircraft.’
The young man was sitting in his wheelchair, looking like he hadn’t moved all night. He didn’t acknowledge the two men when they entered. It went through Adrian’s mind that he looked as out of place in the room as those palm trees in the hotel foyer – a monochrome apparition in a full-colour setting.
‘Did he sleep on the sofa?’
‘He lay on the floor with a blanket over him.’
‘How about food?’
‘I gave him a little porridge.’
‘He managed to eat it all right?’
She nodded. Adrian walked across to where Mujtabaa was sitting and reached out to touch his hand. ‘Good morning.’ The Ethiopian didn’t stir. He looked vulnerable, and Adrian wondered briefly if he’d ever be able to bridge the gulf that lay between them.
He frowned, and turned away. ‘We should get over to the conference centre.’ He spoke to the nurse: ‘I think it’s a good idea if you wear your white coat over your dress, Anne. It tells people who you are, and also that you’re medical.’
It was a fairly modest turnout by the press, although there was a representative from most of the major newspapers, as well as the BBC. The commercial stations had obviously decided that ‘an important message from Africa Assist regarding a revolutionary fundraising scheme’ was not of sufficient interest to them. Most, if not all, of the reporters were permanently situated at the airport, just to cover departing and arriving celebrities or politicians.
Anne and Mujtabaa sat in chairs in the front of the room, along with James Balcombe, who arrived at the last minute and faffed around uselessly, getting in everyone’s way and causing unnecessary stress. Adrian addressed the journalists.
‘The young man you see here is Mujtabaa. He’s flown here from his home in the Danakil Desert, in Africa, and he’s about to set off on a walk from Heathrow to Trafalgar Square. The aim of this walk is to bring the world’s attention once again to the plight of Mujtabaa’s fellow Ethiopians. He wants to raise money to feed them. As you know, many parts of Africa are still suffering from – in Michael Buerk’s famous phrase back in October 1984 – “a famine of biblical proportions”, and Mujtabaa is the face of that tragedy. Anne Chaffey, a nurse who has worked in Ethiopia for over 40 years, will accompany him on his walk. The walk will end in Trafalgar Square at a rally against world hunger on Sunday.’
This brief statement was followed by questions.
‘How far are you hoping to cover every day?’
‘Trafalgar Square is about 25 to 30 miles from here, depending on the route. We intend to start on the A4, then take the A3006 – the old Roman road – through Hounslow and Brentford.’ He indicated the map on the wall behind him. ‘We’ll cross the Thames into Richmond, possibly Barnes, then walk through Chiswick, Hammersmith, Fulham, Chelsea and, finally, Westminster.’
‘So you’re not intending to walk far every day?’
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