Sunday
Each day of the winter holidays was cold and lifeless – Sunday proved no different. Yasmin Ali, a 13-year-old refugee, rose at seven to tend to the family vegetable garden. She grabbed her rubber boots, chalky with dried mud the previous weekend, from the family shoe cupboard. She swept her hijab over her hair, rough fingers catching on rougher material, and held it in place with a salvaged pin. She wore a two-year-old puffer coat from the local charity shop. It was black, timeless and like her mother had told her, kept her warm in the harsh Scottish wind. She cut a slim, shaky figure with a top-heavy look; it seemed impossible that her legs would hold all that weight.
