It was all going so well until Dean’s Bluetooth speaker gave out. 

He’d had it pumping the entire ride, and danced to everything from reggae tunes to house music. Without the speaker, the van suddenly seemed much quieter. 

The sun had almost set again and there were black rings around Dean’s eyes. In the distance, we could see the lights of Milan. 

Ayamin and Mila were talking, Connor was sleeping and Dean was fidgeting with the wheel. 

‘Are you sure it won’t go?’ he asked Mila. 

‘It’s not going to go, Dean, just like the twenty other times you asked.’ 

He swore and tapped on the steering wheel. Then turned his attention to the radio.  

‘I’m getting a little desperate.’

He flicked it on, an Italian pop song was playing. 

The voice was soft and sweet and it was the sort of tune you could bop your head to. 

‘What’s she saying?’ Dean asked Mila. 

‘She’s talking about a girl – but she’s not just a girl she’s also the sun.’

Dean reached over and rubbed Mila’s shoulder, ‘Could you?...’

She rolled her eyes, ‘You always ask me to…’

‘I know. But you’re so good at it.’

‘Fine,’ Mila said, she turned down the volume of the radio slightly and began to translate the words.  

 

‘Then one day she floated free. 

She was too much, and not enough for he. 

 

She had no more space, 

And took to the stars. 

 

Running her own race, 

And bringing light to ours. 

 

But when she saw her light reflected,

The feeling was more than she’d expected.’

 

We sat in silence after the song ended. Mila’s voice had a hypnotic tone. 

Then a beeping came over the radio and a news broadcaster started delivering quick bursts of information in Italian. 

Dean looked at Mila, and with a roll of her eyes, she continued translating. 

‘blah blah blah… something about a new tax hurting people in Milan… um… The hunt for a British teenager who went missing from an aid programme in Turkey has resumed after the teenager was spotted in a bank in Austria.’ 

I drew in a breath and glanced sideways. Ayamin was looking at me, but everyone else seemed oblivious. 

‘Danny Frey, now eighteen, was sent on the Red Cross expedition after he was convicted of the robbery and vandalism of a liquor store.’ 

As the announcer went further into my background, I felt Ayamin lean away from me. Her face had gone pale and her eyes burned into mine until I had to look away. 

Dean had stopped tapping on the steering wheel and when he looked into the rear-view mirror, I knew that he knew. 

When Mila was midway through translating a sentence, Dean reached across and turned the radio off.

Apart from the van’s whine, we sat in silence. Milan’s street signs flew past. I looked at Ayamin, she stared straight at me, straight into my eyes and soul. A tear flowed freely down her nose. 

Conor woke up. Stretched out his legs. My throat was almost too dry to breathe.

‘I’ll drop you here,’ Dean said, pulling off the motorway. 

Ayamin hoisted up our bag, and I slumped my way out the door after her. 

‘Thanks for the ride Dean,’ I said. 

He nodded, ‘Take care.’ 

The colourful van pulled away into the traffic. Its engine strained as it tried to accelerate. 

Ayamin stood on the footpath, she was just over a meter away from me, but it felt like all the distance in the world. Her eyes gazed straight into mine and I had to look away. You have messed up Danny-boy, I thought to myself, you’ve darn messed up.

‘Sh-should we find somewhere to sit and talk about this?’ I asked, feeling like I was talking to a stranger. 

Ayamin didn’t say a thing. Her eyes remained on my face, but she did nod at least. 

Sheltered from the road by a stand of trees stood a white concrete wall. I climbed on top of it and looked out over Milan. An orange sun was setting on the horizon and bathed the city in its glow. 

Ayamin fumbled her way to the top of the wall.

She sat there, staring at me. Her cheek had small lines of orange on it from where her tears reflected the sunset. I reached out to wipe at it, but Ayamin jerked backwards without a word. 

I pulled my hand back and stared out at the sun again. 

‘The reason I lied to you about the refugee camp is I was scared you wouldn’t want to have anything to do with me. I wanted you to see me as more than a criminal.’

I waited for her to say something… her eyes were intense, almost magnetised to mine and her mouth hung open slightly, but she didn’t speak so I continued.

‘After that, I just couldn’t find the right time – or the bravery to tell you… and it's more than that; I started to feel like a different person – a good person. Because of you, I wanted to be someone better – and that’s who I became. Meeting you was like a fresh start Ayamin. I didn’t want that tarnished with the bad things I’d done before.’ 

I paused and breathed in. My heart was beating way too fast. I felt almost angry – but not quite. Ayamin just sat there. Watching. 

‘Umm,’ I said, ‘That’s it… you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me Ayamin and I love you and I hope you can see that the only reason I didn’t tell you before is because I was scared to lose you.’

She sat. waiting for me to speak again. I let the silence hang. I wanted to hear from her – I desperately wanted to hear her say something. 

Ayamin let out a sigh and jumped down from the wall, swung the bag onto her back, and walked off. Her boots tapped on the concrete path and every step seemed to echo. 

I got to my feet. I was ready to chase her, to beg her like I had when we left the refugee camp, but then I stopped. 

She’s just found out that the guy she’s been travelling with is a wanted criminal. She needs space. 

I sat back down on the wall. It felt colder now that the sun had set. 

It got colder and colder as I waited for Ayamin to come back. Below me I watched clubs begin to open up and foreigners walk out of supermarkets carrying bags bulging with alcohol. 

I shivered, stood up and looked around. No Ayamin. I kicked at the wall, imagining it was my face, then toppled off and grazed my forehead on the ground. 

‘Woah buddy, you alright?’ 

I moaned as a group of university students gathered around me.

‘He’s cracked his head,’ one of the girls said, she had an English accent. 

‘Nah,’ I said, sitting up, ‘I’ve just cracked my heart.’ 

The group gave a sympathy ‘Ahhh,’ and two of the guys helped me to my feet. They placed a half-empty bottle of wine in my hands then wandered off.

I went back to the wall and leaned against it. I took a swig of the wine. It tasted terrible. 

A girl called out, I turned, but it was just some backpacker calling out to their friends. I took another drink. It still tasted like ass. 

I let my feet fall from under me and sat on my butt clutching the wine bottle. Surely she’ll be here soon? I took a good long swallow and decided I’d never drink cheap wine again. 

There was a street party just down the road from where I was sitting. People were laughing as they stumbled out of it with their arms around each other. That’s all I wanted, just to go to the street party with Ayamin, we’d dance and we’d sing and we’d forget everything bad had happened. I took another swallow and decided to go check it out. 

As I wobbled to my feet, I looked around for Ayamin. Nothing. She was gone. I drank. Tossed the empty bottle in the bin. I needed more alcohol.

The street party was a mass of colourful cloth, flags, and confetti. There were hundreds of people with painted faces singing along to Italian tunes. 

I slipped in, wandering through the throngs of people and drinking discarded liqueurs and wines sitting on tables.

The music was bright party music. People bounced and twirled and smiled. Drinks spilled into my mouth and I felt a numb smile begin. 

The beat changed but I was still swaying. I put my hand to my head just before I hit the ground. I felt my nose explode… little drips of blood floated past like flowers in the wind. I felt hands on my face. Soft hands and caring eyes. 

‘Ayamin?’ I asked, ‘Where did you go?’ 

****

I woke up on carpet so soft that for a moment I thought I was still dreaming. The carpet was white, the ceiling was white, the blanket stretched over me was white, but my head felt grey like a storm. 

I stretched my arms. The room smelt good, like rose or strawberries. 

‘Morning.’

I sat up quickly, someone sat in the bed next to me, and that someone wasn’t Ayamin. 

Long, brown flecked hair. A foreign face. Where was she from? Britain? Scandinavia? Germany?

You’re an idiot I told myself. 

‘Rough night?’ she said in an accent that screamed Northern England. 

I peered down at myself. I was naked from the waist up but thank goodness I still had chinos on. Still, I almost slapped myself in the face. How am I going to explain this to Ayamin?

‘Good morning,’ I said, watching her watching me. There was this awkward silence, I didn’t know what to say to her and she didn’t seem to know what to say to me. I wanted to ask about the night before but I was a little afraid. 

‘Who’s Ayamin?’ she asked. 

I opened my mouth but didn’t speak. I wanted to say that she was my girlfriend, travel buddy, partner. But I didn’t know if that was true anymore. 

The British girl hugged her pillow, ‘Just the way you said her name… seems like you care about her a lot.’

I nodded, ‘Ummm… Did we do anything last night?’

The girl laughed, it was a nice laugh, full of colour, ‘No, you wouldn’t even let me kiss you. When I tried you were all… Ayamin this… Ayamin that.’

I let out a breath, at least I hadn’t made it worse for myself. 

She looked a little sad, ‘Why did you break up? I’d love someone as fit, tanned, and wholesome as you.’

‘I’m not so sure wholesome should be on that list,’ I shrugged, ‘I’ve been lying to her since we met.’

 ‘Oh… what about?’

This British girl seemed nice and all, but I found myself wondering, What am I doing here? Why am I talking to her? 

I shrugged, looked up at the clock that sat on her wall, ‘I should get going.’

‘Are you sure? Do you want to grab some breakfast first?’ 

Despite the groan of my stomach, I shook my head, ‘I’ve got somewhere to be.’ 

****

In daylight, the wall where Ayamin had left me looked like a grave. A solid concrete marker of what had been lost.

I sat cross-legged underneath the wall and watched people glide past. The stone I sat on was cold, and I shivered with hunger. I watched throngs of tourists move through the area. Shopkeepers yawned. 

I waited until well past midday for Ayamin to show up before I walked past a McDonald’s and swiped some leftovers people had left on their trays. 

For water, I stopped by a group of ancient stone lions that had springs trickling from their mouths. 

The water was supposed to be lucky, but even though I waited at the wall all afternoon there was no sign of my favourite traveller.

As dark approached, a conversed pair of feet appeared in front of me. 

‘Did she come?’ 

I looked up. It was the British girl. She seemed to already know my answer so I kept my mouth shut and looked back down at the concrete. 

‘You can’t stay here all night.’

‘I’ve done it before.’

She seemed at a loss for words. I was hungry and angry. I didn’t want her pity.

With great care, the girl sat down on the concrete opposite me. 

‘Well, I guess I’m staying too.’

‘Don’t be stupid.’ 

‘Look, either you’re coming back to my place where it’s warm and we can order Italian takeaway, or we’re both going to sit here in the cold and die.’ 

I gave her my meanest stare, pushing all the hate and sadness and heartbreak I had in me towards her. The girl flinched but she stayed sitting. 

My tummy rumbled and then I sighed, ‘Okay you win.’

I stood, held out my hand, ‘I’m Danny.’ 

She took it and gave a slight smile, ‘Gianina.’ 

 

By the next morning, I was sitting on the wall before the sun had risen. Gianina joined me and we sat gazing out at the town. From our vantage point, she pointed to her favourite spaces. When we were hungry we ate, and when it got dark we went back to Gianina’s house. 

That night it began to rain, and as we ate breakfast the next morning Gianina glanced out the window and told me she had a busy day of catching up on Netflix ahead of her. I said I’d bring Ayamin back and we could all watch together. Gianina laughed, but her eyes seemed worried.  

I sat in the rain in Gianina’s pink jacket. The rain quickly soaked through my pants. The tip of my nose was impossibly cold.

People dashed in and out of buildings. The only colour was flashes of warm yellow light from the stores, everything else was a different shade of grey. 

It grew dark and I kept sitting there – only I wasn’t waiting – I was stuck.  Ayamin and her quest had been my purpose, my life, for months. Suddenly I had nothing. 

My teeth chattered between each breath. I tried to bury my hands under the coat to keep them warm, but that skin was just as cold. 

‘Danny! Danny!’

A tiny phone light appeared in the rain. Footsteps splashed in the puddle I was sitting in. 

Gianina was yelling at me but her voice seemed muted and cold… We stumbled back to her flat and she pushed me, fully clothed, into the shower… She was hugging me and crying and the hot water was soaking through her clothes… Gianina pulled my jacket off and then my shirt… and then the two of us were sitting on the floor of her shower with hot water gushing over us…and then as the water thawed me I started to cry and talk. I told her about the journey. About Greece, Macedonia, riding trains, kissing under the stars, and cuddling in the cold. 

‘And now… and now it’s all gone.’

Gianina had her arms around me, her skin was warmer than mine, she was crying too. 

‘Maybe that’s okay Danny. Those memories make you sad now, but one day they’ll make you smile.’

‘She was everything. She made me a good person – and now what am I? I’m nothing. I’m a criminal.’ 

Gianina was kissing my bare shoulder, she was rubbing my back. 

‘I came here for an Italian boy. I gave up my job, said goodbye to my family, got a lease on this apartment and he dumped me after just a month. Everyone has breakups, Danny.’

‘But I just thought we were more… we’d been through so much shit together… I thought we couldn’t be separated.’

She shook her wet hair, ‘I wouldn’t have left you Danny. Seriously. I’ve never met anyone like you.’ Gianina was looking into my eyes, and I saw in her face that same desperation I felt inside.  

I looked away from her. The shower was starting to run cold. I turned it off, stood, and grabbed two towels.

‘It’s getting late.’

****

I woke before Gianina, and I was glad of that. The city streets were quiet as I walked them in the dawn light. 

There’s no way Ayamin’s coming to find me, I thought as I passed the wall where she’d left me. 

Not far from the wall was a bus stop, and next to it – a radio station. I walked past the bus stop and thought about travel, she could already be in France – or even England. 

Something made me stop outside the radio station. It had its signs written in English and Italian. It made me wonder if perhaps there was a slight hope… So I can’t text or call her… but maybe there’s another way? A plan was beginning to form.

I fixed the address of the station in my head and hurried back to Gianina’s. She was sitting in bed, and laughed when she saw me, ‘Danny, it’s good to see you smiling.’ 

‘That’s because I have a plan – I think I know how to get a message to Ayamin.’ 

Her face dropped, ‘Oh… that’s great.’ 

‘I’m going to ask the radio station to put a message on, but it’s got to be something only she will understand.’

I sat down on one of Gianina’s chairs and glanced at her bookshelf – there on the upper left corner was a very familiar sight. Two Hearts in the French Night.

*****

I rubbed my eyes and tried to focus on the world around me, the Italian people, the shops, the smells. 

Many blocks later I found myself standing outside the English radio house.

‘She’s worth it,’ I reminded myself, ‘She’s worth it even if you can’t convince her.’ 

Taking a breath, I walked into the radio house. 

Inside I found that the radio house also shared its building with an accounting firm and a laundromat. 

I walked into the radio place and rang the bell for reception, then sat on their lone chair. The only thing hanging from the walls was a menu for a local pizza place that looked about five years out of date.

After waiting a few minutes, a young woman’s head popped through the reception window, ‘Oh hello there!’

‘Hello, I’m...’ my nervous pitch was cut short as she disappeared. The sound of a bolt dropping came from a door to the reception. 

‘Ciao!’ she said, shaking my hand, ‘Come in I’ll show you around.’ 

‘Okay,’ I said, my voice lifted a little in surprise.

The woman took me through the door and into the second half of their building which was marginally bigger than the reception area – only this one had two booths with microphones and sound pads and cables running everywhere. 

‘So that’s Chris,’ she said pointing at the man sitting in one of the sound booths, ‘He’s our journalist here, he prepares the news bulletins and sometimes does work for the BBC.’ She waved her hand, ‘Well very occasionally.’

‘Then there’s Andrea who’s not here but sells our advertising.’ She pointed to a desk between the booths, ‘That’s where Andrea works.’

She pointed to herself, ‘I’m Caitlynn, and you’re… Brian, right?’ 

‘Ahh, Danny actually.’ 

She frowned for a moment, ‘Sorry…. I swear I was told it was Brian… anyway let me introduce you to the equipment.’ 

Caitlynn took me through to the empty booth and sat me down in a chair in front of one of the microphones. 

‘Do international stations ever pick this up?’ 

Caitlynn shrugged, ‘They’re allowed to pick up pretty much whatever they want but basically don’t. I think the last time someone picked up my station was two years ago when we had a big fire here and I spoke to the mayor. It does happen but only if it’s big news or something crazy.’

I nodded, feeling rather sure my story would qualify as at least crazy.

She checked her watch, ‘Hey sorry to throw this at you on your first day, but I’m going live in like thirty seconds, want to join me?’

I grinned, ‘Yeah that’s what I was hoping for… but what do you mean by first day?’

She smiled, adjusting knobs and switches, ‘Well I hope you’re going to come back. It gets boring here by myself.’

I went to speak, to try to explain that we were both talking about two completely different things but Caitlynn held her hand up, ‘And we’re live in 5 - 4 - 3…’

I drew in a breath and ran a palm over my forehead. This is not what I was expecting.

‘Hello and welcome to Radio Milan, your favourite English language show, the time is currently nine o’clock and we’re here for the first time with my new co-host Danny!’

I sat unsure how to respond, Caitlynn stared at me for just a few seconds before leaning over her microphone again, ‘Why don’t you tell us a bit about yourself.’

I nodded and looked from her to my microphone, ‘Actually I’m not trying to become a co-host.’

Caitlynn’s eyes went wide, ‘That’s why I thought your name was Brian,’ she gave a nervous laugh, ‘He must’ve never shown up.’

I nodded, wringing my hands a little as she thought for just a split second, 

‘Well, on radio we have two golden rules – one is that you must never say these words,’ she held up a sheet with a list of swear words on it, ‘And the other is to never have ‘dead air’ – to never let the radio go silent. That’s basically all you need to know to have a career in radio Danny.’

She grinned, but it was still slightly forced, ‘Why don’t you tell us why you came to our station in the first place, we don’t usually get social calls.’

I grinned, ‘We have an hour, right?’ 

Caitlynn shrugged, ‘More or less.’

I nodded and began to tell my story.

 ‘It was Friday, a school day, and once again I was stuck in court...’

I told Caitlynn everything, or as near to everything I could fit into one hour. At the start she interrupted a few times, ‘How old were you? What about your parents? Why did you follow her?’

But as the journey wore on, she fell silent, and for a long time, I felt like I couldn’t see her anymore. Instead, my eyes were focused on the inflatable we’d used to travel to Greece, the waiting in the North Macedonia camp, the old man with the weed and the guitar in Budapest, by the time I arrived back here at the radio house we’d gone ten minutes overtime and Caitlynn had been silent for over half an hour. 

‘And the last thing I want to say is Ayamin I am so sorry for lying to you. I’m an idiot, but I’m also an idiot that can’t go without you. In a week I’m going to be in the same place that Samantha sat waiting – the place where the lights were dark to save electricity – and where she only had the moon to find Rudy.

Please come and see me. Please. I’m an idiot, but even idiots deserve second chances.’

I sniffed, wiped my nose then looked at Caitlynn, ‘I think that’s all I wanted to say.’

Caitlynn’s eyes looked as far away as mine had been, they refocused and then she broke the first golden rule of radio by swearing her head off, ‘I think I believe you.’

I nodded, and for the next five minutes she broke the second golden rule – she fell silent and just stared ahead like she was trying to process what happened. Eventually, she seemed to come to her senses and flicked a few knobs.  

Bon Jovi's Living on a Prayer came on – sort of a fitting theme song, I guess. The door next to us burst open and Chris the journalist came in. 

‘The BBC want it.’

They want what?’ I asked, as Caitlynn continued to stare ahead. 

‘They want your interview,’ said Chris, ‘Is it true?’ 

I nodded. 

Chris shook his head and now he was staring too, Damn man, damn.’ 

‘Y-you said the government was after you?’ Caitlynn said. 

‘Of course, they are,’ said Chris, ‘His face has been plastered across the news for the last few days.’

‘Then you’ve got to get out of here,’ said Caitlynn, ‘They’re probably on their way.’

I nodded and stood to my feet just as Chris’s phone rang. 

‘Hold up,’ he said as I moved past him to the door, ‘It’s the BBC,’ he called. 

Caitlynn unlocked the door and pushed me through reception and onto the street. 

‘CNN, the Guardian, they all want you, Danny,’ Chris yelled behind me. 

I started to run and for a minute it looked like Chris would try to follow me to Gianina’s. But I’d walked thousands of kilometres to get here, I was lean and fit. Chris, who worked a desk job, didn’t stand a chance.

By the time I reached Gianina’s, there were two helicopters in the air. In the distance, I heard sirens wailing and I gulped as I pushed through the door. 

‘I did it,’ I called. 

Gianina emerged from the kitchen and threw a hug around me. 

‘You were gone for ages,’ she said, ‘Did you manage to get anyone international?’ 

I grinned, ‘All of them by the sounds of it.’ 

Her eyes lit up and she ran to the edge of the kitchen, grabbing a full backpack. 

‘Follow me,’ she said, rushing out the door.

I nearly crashed into her as I leapt outside. 

Gianina was staring up at the sky, her mouth hanging open the way Caitlynn’s had.

‘Is that two Italian police helicopters I see,’ she asked. 

I peered past her, then shrugged, ‘I can’t read Italian.’

Gianina shook her head, a mad grin settling on her face, ‘I think you may have outdone yourself Danny.’

We raced down to the small garage that sat beneath her flat. A Vespa scooter sat next to a pile of canvas. Gianina took a hold of the canvas and in one swift motion lifted it from the heap. 

‘Ta-da!’ she said, revealing a second Vespa scooter – this one light blue.

‘Wow,’ I said, running a finger over it. Scratches ran along its sides and a faint hint of rust was showing on the handlebars, but overall it was a thing of beauty.

‘I hope you’re not giving this to me.’

Gianina laughed, ‘Of course I am, you need it to complete your quest.’

Her craziness made me grin, ‘I couldn’t take this from you Gianina.’ 

She made the sound horses do when they don’t like something, ‘You’d actually be helping me out, this is my ex-boyfriend’s scooter – the same one who ditched me.’

‘Really?’

‘I haven’t seen him for two months and as far as I’m concerned a burglar came one night and stole it.’

I smiled as I sat on the seat, felt the accelerator. 

‘I used to call him Henry,’ said Gianina, running a hand through her hair.

‘Who?’ 

‘The Vespa, I don’t know if you want to change it or anything but the Vespa always seemed like a Henry to me.’

‘Henry the Vespa,’ I said, ‘Perfect.’

I kick-started Henry and watched the fuel level rise to only a fraction above empty. 

‘Here’s the helmet,’ said Gianina, passing me a fluro-pink item. 

‘What’s this?’ I asked.

‘Your helmet,’ she said, ‘I’m sorry, my ex broke the other one.’

I shoved on the helmet and Gianina passed me the bag she’d been carrying. It was heavy and full – two qualities I’d learnt to appreciate in my time as a refugee. 

‘Food – clothes – love,’ she said, kissing my helmet. ‘Now go! Go find your Ayamin.’ 

‘Thank you Gianina – for everything,’ I started to say, ‘I’m going to owe you for th-’

‘You don’t have time to owe me. There are police helicopters in the sky – GO!’

I pushed the throttle as far as I could and felt Henry wheelie as I made it out onto the street.