An Unsafe Haven
'Captivating …There's a breadth of humanity in An Unsafe Haven which is very moving. I loved the sense of Lebanon and of what is unique and precious about the Arab world' Helen DunmoreSet in contemporary Beirut, a rich, illuminating and deeply moving novel about a group of friends whose lives are shaped and affected daily by the war in Syria.Imagine trying to live a normal life in a world which changes daily and where nothing is certain …Hannah has deep roots in Beirut, the city of her birth and of her family. Her American husband, Peter, has certainty only in her. They thought that they were used to the upheavals in Lebanon, but as the war in neighbouring Syria enters its fifth year, the region’s increasingly fragile state begins to impact on their lives in wholly different ways.An incident in a busy street brings them into direct contact with a Syrian refugee and her son. As they work to reunite Fatima with her family, her story forces Hannah to face the crisis of the expanding refugee camps, and to question the very future of her homeland.And when their close friend Anas, an artist, arrives to open his exhibition, shocking news from his home in Damascus raises uncomfortable questions about his loyalty to his family and his country.Heartrending and beautifully written, An Unsafe Haven is a universal story of people whose lives are tested and transformed, as they wrestle with the anguish of war, displacement and loss, but also with the vital need for hope.
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AN UNSAFE HAVEN
Nada Awar Jarrar
The Borough Press
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
Published by HarperCollinsPublishers 2016
Nada Awar Jarrar asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
First published by HarperCollinsPublishers 2016
Cover layout design: Holly Macdonald © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2016. Cover photography © Mario Ramadan/EyeEm/Getty Images (steps) and Shutterstock.com (texture)
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books
Source ISBN: 9780008165017
Ebook Edition ©July 2016 ISBN: 9780008165031
Version: 2016-06-01
Table of Contents
They are still on daylight saving and the light, soft and hesitant, comes early, through the gap in the curtains and on to the bed, shaping itself to the contours of their bodies, gently waking her.
Peter does not stir when she sits up. She looks at him, his features in repose beautiful to her, fair skin unblemished, his greying hair fine as silk, an implied calmness to his demeanour even in sleep that still moves her after so many years.
She gets out of bed carefully, puts on her dressing gown and looks back to make sure she has not disturbed him. In the kitchen, Anas is already sitting at the breakfast bar, hair ruffled, his eyes, when he looks up from behind his glasses, uncharacteristically flat.
—Anas, Hannah says quietly. You’re up early.
He does not respond.
She places her hand over his and feels a slight tremor in it.
—Is everything all right?
He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head. She puts an arm around his shoulder and, feeling him shudder, realizes that he is crying.
—Anas, please tell me what’s the matter. You’re scaring me.
He finally looks up at her.
—It’s Brigitte, he says in a whisper. She’s left Damascus and taken the children with her.
She lifts both hands to her mouth.
—I don’t understand, she exclaims. Where did they go? What happened?
There is a pause before he can reply.
—I telephoned them several times yesterday but no one was in. I’d been worried since that car bomb exploded in our neighbourhood after I left. I wanted to make sure they were all right, but when I called my mother late last night, thinking they might have gone there, she said they were gone.
—Gone?
A thought occurs to Hannah though she does not say it out loud. Please God they haven’t been kidnapped, she thinks. It is not unusual for people to go missing in Syria. Since the revolution and consequent civil war began, there have been tens of thousands of abductions.
—It’s not what you think. Anas has read her thoughts. Our neighbour downstairs saw the taxi we always use parked outside for them. They had lots of luggage. When my mother asked the driver later, he said he’d taken them to the airport.
—Thank God. She breathes a sigh of relief. Where do you think they went?
—I’m sure she went to her parents in Berlin. Where else would she go?
—So you’re going to call them?
He shakes his head.
—My in-laws moved recently and I don’t have their number. I didn’t think I’d ever need to get in touch with them without Brigitte there.
—At least you know they’re safe, Anas. Hannah is not sure what else she can say in the way of comfort.
—She waited until she knew I’d be coming here for the exhibition and left without saying anything about it. There is bitterness in his reply. She knows I would never have agreed to it.
—Brigitte has talked about leaving before?
He shrugs.
—Since the fighting began, whenever the subject came up. I always told her Damascus is home and I would not abandon it no matter what happened.
He waits for a moment until Hannah begins to feel a hint of his anguish.
—I also said I would never allow the children to leave. I reminded her that they would always be Arab.
