Angel Boy by Bernard Ashley Page B

and they were from England. They were younger than his dad, but a bit older than Leonard’s teacher at Blessed Wisdom. They were serious people, but they smiled a lot and agreed with each other in quiet voices – unlike the noisy people in the seats behind.
    â€˜Are you going to see the fort at Elmina?’ Chris asked Leonard.
    â€˜Yes, I’m going to see the fort at Elmina,’ Leonard told him – saying it loudly enough for everyone else in the tro-tro to hear.
    â€˜You learn about it at school?’
    Leonard nodded, his head dangerously near to coming off his shoulders.
    â€˜Then would you come round with us? Tell us what you think…?’
    â€˜I surely will,’ Leonard said, sagely.
    â€˜It would be good to get your impressions…’
    In about the time the tro-tro mate had said, the bus arrived in Elmina. It dropped the gossipy women off in the town, near a knot of mean-looking street kids, their stares at Leonard through the glass making him turn his head in the other direction. It went on up to the fort with the three remaining passengers, where Leonard counted out his fare. It used up just about half of what he had.
    â€˜What time, here?’ he wanted to know from the mate, needing to be sure that he’d get back home in time.
    â€˜You go around,’ the mate said to Leonard and the backpackers, flicking his fingers at the fort. ‘We come back…’ And he nodded his headin the general direction of the small car park, as time to go was when things happened, not what numbers the hands of a clock pointed to. He banged on the roof for the driver to be off before they got embroiled in the commotion running up the track – a crowd of older kids chasing up from the car park and immediately surrounding the two backpackers.
    â€˜What’s your name, Boss?’
    â€˜What’s yours, Missus?’
    â€˜Where you from?’
    â€˜You got an e-mail address?’
    Vicky walked on. ‘He’s Chris and I’m Vicky, from London.’
    â€˜London! England! We love England!’ the boys called after them as Leonard hurried with his new friends up the slope to the fort entrance. ‘Give England our love!’
    Leonard kept his shirt well tucked in. He’d looked at the boys. For school holiday kids they were far too neat in their clean shirts and jeans: they looked more like students on a Sundayouting. By contrast, beyond the fort, down by the beach, men and boys were stripped off and sweating, hacking at big tree trunks to make dug-out fishing canoes. On a nearby stretch of land set up with goal posts other youths were playing football, everyone hot and scruffy. No one around Elmina looked as neatly turned out as these boys at the fort entrance – quite different from the raggedy boys Leonard had seen in the town, those kids with mean, hungry-looking faces. That scruffy lot had seemed threatening, but these tidy ones were puzzling. What was their game? Suddenly Leonard suddenly didn’t feel so comfortable far away from home, and he hurried to keep up with the backpackers going into the fort.
    But how was he going to go inside? His pocket money didn’t take account of entrance fees. He just about had enough for the tro-tro back home. What should he do? Could he skulk just inside the entrance until Chris and Vicky came out? He didn’t fancy being alone with either set of theElmina kids.
    â€˜Will you be our guest?’ Vicky suddenly asked him, turning from the pay box.
    â€˜Sure, do us the honour of coming round with us?’ Chris said.
    To which Leonard was happy to say ‘thank you’.

    They were in the company of a guide – a young woman who took them all over the fort, and didn’t spare the horrors of the place. First, she stopped them at a plaque on the wall, and in a quiet voice read aloud the words on it.
    IN EVERLASTING MEMORY OF
THE ANGUISH OF OUR ANCESTORS.
MAY THOSE WHO DIED REST IN