to his father.
That afternoon they bathed him and laid him in a clean white sheet, placed him with the other children who had died that day, but did not leave him. Sat with him, as the other parents sat with their children, and talked with him for the last time, told him his favourite story and how the summer and the peace would soon come.
That evening, after the dark of night had taken over from the grey of day, offering at least a degree of protection, they walked with the other parents and the doctors and nurses to the cemetery on the hill. As they approached the men finished digging the holes in the rock-hard soil of the winter. Small little holes, Kara thought, small little children.
All so fast now, all so sudden.
Goodbye, my little Jovan – she looked at him again, kissed him again, watched as Adin kissed him then folded the cloth over his face, gave their son back to her for the last time.
They held him, lowered him into the grave, knelt in silence as the imam said the prayers they did not understand.
Nothing else could happen now, she knew; nothing more could be visited upon them.
They trickled the first soil on to the sheet and said goodbye. Then they returned to the hospital, sat in the corridor, and wept.
The grey was coming up and the air was pinched with ice. In the village in the hills to the east of Maglaj, where the surrounding Serb forces withdrew to take their rest and recuperation, the sniper Valeschov left his billet and began the trudge through the snow.
‘Not today,’ his commanding officer told him. ‘You’re needed somewhere else.’
‘Where?’ Valeschov asked.
‘Tesanj.’
London was cold, but at least it had stopped drizzling.
So the Serbs had declared a ceasefire round the Maglaj – Tesanj pocket and he himself had put one across on the Opposition – Langdon sat in the inner sanctum of his office, an adviser on either side, and watched the recording of the early evening news bulletin: the reports from Vienna, his own performance in Brussels that afternoon, plus the live transmission from the House during the bulletin itself.
The schedule that day had been even tighter than he had feared. Brussels had overrun, which had delayed his return to London, so that he had been unable to make his appearance in the House at the customary time. Which had meant that he had made his statement shortly after six. Eight minutes after, to be precise. Or bang in the middle of the BBC TV’s early evening news. So they had gone live on it. Prompted, of course, by the right word in the right ear that the Foreign Secretary had something of interest to say.
So the Serbs had declared a ceasefire, he mused again. Notwithstanding that a ceasefire was already in place, of course. He reached for a sherry. But everything was notwithstanding nowadays.
He should be able to grab a day and a half off this weekend – the thought was in the back of his mind. Even get down to the family home in the West Country. Hilary and Rob and little Sammi were back from Berlin for a flying visit, and he and his wife saw too little of their daughter and granddaughter nowadays.
He sipped the sherry and watched the news bites from Vienna.
‘I think we have a way forward,’ the Bosnian-Serb spokesman told the TV cameras.
‘The latest ceasefire might well give cause for optimism,’ one of the West’s negotiators told the press.
Quite nicely worded, one of Langdon’s advisers commented. Almost gets round the problem of the ceasefire that wasn’t. Almost but not quite.
‘What about the UN refusal to launch an air strike at Maglaj?’ one of the BBC team asked.
‘You could say that the UN decision led to the situation we’re able to report today.’
The report switched to Langdon leaving the Brussels meeting.
‘If the UN and the West had taken firmer action earlier, perhaps the conflict might not have escalated to the present situation?’
‘Perhaps yes, perhaps no,’ he had replied. ‘It’s always easy to be wise, or at least wiser, with hindsight.’
‘What about the reports of a hospital being shelled in Tesanj?’
Langdon had nodded, as if sharing the reporter’s concern. ‘We have received reports of this … At present we’re still trying to get confirmation.’
Wrong time to say that first reports suggested that children had been among the dead, he and his advisers had decided. Wrong time also to take away from the impact of the surprise he had in store at Westminster.
Pity about the kids, of course, but kids were always the victims. And victims were an inevitable price of practically everything.
The bulletin went back to the studio, then live to the House. He leaned forward and paid closer attention.
The Speaker was calling him; he was rising from the front bench and taking his position at the dispatch box.
‘There has been a breach of the original ceasefire, especially in the area of the Maglaj – Tesanj pocket.’ He glanced at the advisers and nodded his approval of the wording they had chosen for him. ‘The renegotiation of the ceasefire, however, is to be welcomed.’
Why not an air strike – the intervention from the Opposition front bench had been predictable. Why not more direct military intervention?
‘The decision whether or not to launch an air strike is the sole prerogative of the United Nations.’ His delivery emphasized the point. ‘It is not the responsibility of Her Majesty’s Government.’
He had held up his hand at this point, stopped the heckling from the other side of the House.
‘What is the responsibility of Her Majesty’s Government is not only to ensure that its commitment to the United Nations Protection Force is fulfilled, but also to ensure the safety of the British contingent in UNPROFOR.’
One British life is a life too many, the Opposition knew he was going to say, and prepared its response. Why not a more positive position on Bosnia, he knew they would throw at him.
‘I have to tell the House …’ his voice was sombre now ‘… and it is right and proper that the House is the first to know, that there have been a number of British casualties during an incident in the Maglaj – Tesanj pocket.’
Even now, even on television, he could sense the sudden tension, the moment the mood in the chamber swung in his favour.
‘It is my sad duty this afternoon to inform the House that, in a reconnaissance operation ordered by UNPROFOR, and acting in their role as authorized military observers, two members of the Special Air Service have been killed in an incident near the town of Maglaj, and two others seriously injured. The injured men have been flown home and we are in negotiation to retrieve the bodies of the two others.’
Of course it wasn’t quite news; of course the press had been sniffing at the rumour. But he had done
