The richest refugee on the planet

She could feel the arms of the fever surrounding her body, one by one, a monstrous octopus arising from a deep, dark sea. The water was boiling in the kettle - and the noise was almost unbearable. Shivering and dizzy, she could barely keep herself standing on her feet while looking frenetically for medicines. She took Paracetamol, a Vitamin C, a sleeping pill, and then poured the hot water from the kettle in a plastic bottle with shaking hands. "That's it; I'm almost ready to fly now.”

Reaching the small, freezing bedroom, she started counting: “Blankets and duvet - checked; hot bottle - checked; pillows in position - checked; pyjamas on - checked; socks on - checked; Santa Clause hat - checked; sleeping mask - checked, earplugs - checked - and - yep, checklist completed. Ready to take off to the dreams land, baby? I think so.”

She quickly jumped into the nest of her bed. Then, with the last murmuring, "This is Alaska, seriously", she allowed herself to be embraced by the night, fever, cold, and the chemicals of the pills. Soon the room got quiet - and quieter - an ice sculpture on a winter, dull, ordinary night.

Too quiet.

The mobile phone thrown on the chest of drawers started to ring. It was ringing and ringing - obviously, on the other side, somebody was determined not to give up easily.

Eventually, a sleepy voice answered. “Hello?”

“Hey April, that’s me, Val. Long time I haven't heard from you. Are you OK? Sorry to disturb you so late.”

“What’s up? Get straight to the point, please, I've caught a cold, and I'm not feeling well.”

“Sorry to hear that; I'll be quick then. I’ve returned from Calais today - you know, I go there at the refugee camp to volunteer from time to time. I’m exhausted.”

“What’s going on?”

“A while ago, I took in my house a widow with her kid, and later a man - they’ve been refugees there. I’ve been battling for a while with the woman and kid’s papers. I've got all the approvals, and now I’m placing them around. But about the man, I’ve been contacted by the Government - they know I’ve been heavily involved with refugees in Calais and my community, and they’ve asked me to give a hand. ”

“Good for you - and why are you calling me?”

“Well, I couldn’t find a place yet, and I can't keep him at my house anymore. Please take him over to your flat for a while. I know you took two of my guests before, two girls, and I was hoping you can help me again.”

“Excuse me? Do you want me, a woman living on her own, to take here a stranger in my flat? How much thought have you put into this?” Suddenly her voice and blood pressure were raising. “And why should I trust him?”

“I completely understand you. I saw the guy working in Calais with the charities, always helping around and sharing his food and toiletries with other refugees. Then he's been in my house for two weeks, and he's a real gentleman - he’s trustful. I know to read the people, April. Look to him as he'd be your father, please. Give him a chance, and if you see something you don’t like, I’ll come to pick him up immediately.”

Silence. A longer silence. She was processing the information. Val said the magic words, "your father, " which have raised a big wave of memories in her mind, touching a fresh, sensitive, still open wound.

“April, are you there?”

“Yeah. Bring him in - tomorrow late afternoon.”

“Oh, thank you so much - I knew I could rely on you. May I say two last things?”

“Go ahead.”

“First: he doesn’t like questions - so don’t ask him anything unless he tells you.”

“Lovely. That supposed to make me feel even safer, I guess. Is it something else that I should know? Dietary requirements, medical problems?”

“Not for now - other details can wait till tomorrow. But the second important thing is this: he always carries with him, everywhere, even in the bathroom, a small black notebook. He even sleeps with it. You’ll see him writing in it quite often, and nobody is allowed to see what’s in there. It may seem weird, but let him be - it’s his pleasure. That’s all.”

“Fine. Good night and see you both tomorrow. Call me when you’re coming.”

“Bye, April. Thanks again.”

She hanged up and jumped in bed. “How on earth I’ve forgotten to switch off that stupid phone? I hope I can fall asleep now.” She could - after her tired brain built a last, foggy projection of the lost father, looking at her without saying any words. A few tears rolled on her pillow, and then the sleep came - that balm she was so much hoping for.

The next day she woke late but feeling much better. She took other pills and then ignored the running nose and the high temperature, but got busy instead to clean the flat, cook, prepare the room and bathroom for the guest. It filled her battery with energy and purpose. It was almost evening when the two men arrived. By then, she was entirely functional.

When she first saw the man, he looked nothing as she expected - white, tall, robust, around 70 years old. April looked straight into his blue eyes. She saw there a piece of calm, serene sky. No pride, no aggressivity, not a shadow of revenge or judgement.

A few moments passed. They were examining each other attentively and with no rush, enjoying the process. Perhaps, like those lucky people who often take time to drink a good coffee on a sunny morning while looking at other fellows passing by on the street. She started to feel at ease and sighed with relief.

“I’m April. And you are?”

“Hi, April. I’m Nathan. Thank you for taking me.”

“Don’t mention it. Come in, and welcome.”

And so, in such a simple way, a new chapter in her life began that day.

Well, I can’t tell you much about the next two months, though I bet you’re dying out of curiosity. You have to take the risk one day and experiment to understand. How can I explain that - building a relationship with a stranger who comes out of misery and nowhere to live with you?

April decided not to consider him a stranger, though. She treated him as he would have been her father, who never had the chance to visit her there and see with his own eyes what she began. April was, in fact, one of those immigrants who managed to survive, achieve something, and keep going, no matter what. No matter the pain flooding in her soul and how far were those dear ones she missed deeply.

She offered him her room and bathroom and took the other ones, where her sister lived before her departure. She bought him clothes; took him to the hairdresser, manicure and pedicure. She gave him one of her cards for essential shopping and a mobile phone; went with him to explore the surroundings and visit the best London attractions. A few times, she invited him to the best local restaurants. She was pampering him with delight and no many worries for her limited monthly budget.

She was determined to make him smile more often, making him feel a special human being, then a special guest, and further, with days passing by, a special, close friend. While doing that, it became quite evident that she was the one thriving the most. She never noticed Nathan looking at her with a sparkle of mystery and content in his blue eyes. She started to smile more often, to laugh, to talk enthusiastically. She returned to long-forgotten hobbies: reading, drawing and playing the piano.

They spent many days walking in beautiful parks, cooking together, and evenings commenting, debating challenging ideas from books, movies or listening to classical music. He was the best company she could ever hope for in those times of healing.

However, one day when she woke up, he wasn’t there anymore. He was gone. Just one small note: “Thank you very much for all, April. I must go now. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine - I'll write to you soon. Yours, Nathan.” and a small bunch of springtime flowers. That day she felt sick and empty. Confused. “Why did he need to leave so suddenly? Legally, he could have stood much longer. I didn't upset him with anything; I gave him freedom; I was never inquisitive. Why?”

But after a few months, she got used to that, and her life fell peacefully into a new routine - better though, enriched with more interesting things, imported from the time when he was around.

Till one day, when she opened the letters arrived in the mailbox. One nice envelope sent from the USA captured her attention. "Who would write to me from the USA? I know only a few people there, and they can all find me easily on Facebook. That's strange. Let’s see.”

"Dear April

I hope my letter finds you well. I miss you lots, and the lovely time spent together while I was in London. I’ll cherish those memories for as long as I’ll live.

I’m going to answer you now to some of the questions you never asked me, although you wanted to. All the others - we’ll get plenty of time to discuss later.

A long time ago, I went to a lovely country in Africa with my wife and our six-year-old boy for a safari. Unfortunately, a terrible local conflict caught us in the middle of it, and we had to run for our lives, together with thousands of other refugees. We were fortunate to reach our Embassy and escape. However, my wife could never fully recover from the things we witnessed. She lived her last years battling with ineffective psychiatric treatments. While she was still alive, we started to support charities that would offer emergency relief to refugees and those affected by natural disasters.

I'm a rich man - last year, I was one of the guys on the Forbes’ list. My son is going to inherit most of the wealth. However, a good part of it will be dedicated to my humanitarian work. I've been looking for somebody to take care of that when I am not around anymore. I decided to choose by myself that person. I knew officials from the UK Government; I came to Calais, then I met your friend Val and later, you.

You’ve made my mission much easier. I don’t have any doubts that you’re the right person for the job. My notes, recorded diligently, are the best proof, and my son could only fully agree with my choice. Don't worry. We'll teach you everything you'll need to know.

I've just transferred £20,000 to your bank account. That's to help you with the arrangements to finish with all you're doing there and come here – of course, if you agree. If not, you're free to spend the amount for whatever you'd like to.

Soon you’ll get an email from my PA with details; once you confirm that you accept the offer, we’ll start the process, send you a flight ticket - and then, we’ll take it from there. I'd feel priviledged if you’ll say YES.

We both look forward to having you here. Thank you again.

Big hugs,

Nathan”

And so beautifully, like in a fairy tale, a new chapter began.