"Grandpa, why are you looking at me like that?"

Hector Zeroni was woken from his doze by the shrill voice of his young grandson. He was remembering one of his good friends and what had happened to them after their release and amazing survival at Camp Green Lake. They had come a long way from where they had first started off.

Hector had no idea why he was suddenly thinking about all of this. It might have been because his grandson was playing with the small set of plastic tools which he had been given for Christmas. And in that tool box, was a small, coloured shovel.

Hector didn't make a habit of remembering the past. In fact, he had tried to forget all about it since Stanley had died. What happened in the past was gone, and he had planned to never re-visit it.

But Hector had found that he had been thinking about Stanley more and more since his sudden death a few months ago. And maybe, just maybe his grandson was the trigger which had set off Hector's reel of emotions and memories.

He needed someone to listen to him – why couldn't his grandson be that person? No one else would; they expected him to get over Stanley's death and stand up to the truth. As a result, Hector had buried deeper and deeper inside himself until he couldn't stand the silence anymore. He needed to tell someone, and who better than the boy who had helped him to remember what he had tried so hard to forget?

Hector decided to try.

"Jeremy, would you like to hear a story?" Suddenly the little boy stopped playing and ran over to his side. He loved stories and Hector had always avoided telling him any. And Hector wouldn't have to tell him the first half of his tale – Stanley already had.

"You already know all about what happened at Camp Green Lake from your Uncle Stanley, don't you Jeremy?" The little boy nodded in earnest – he didn't want his grandfather to repeat what he already knew. Grandpa sighed. "Well, would you like to hear what happened after all of that finished?" Jeremy looked confused but nodded.

Here goes nothing, thought Hector. And he began.

"After we were released, both of us didn't quite know what it was we would do. All that we knew was that we had to get away from that place – as far as we could possibly go. We had the money we needed to do that; we were rich from the suitcase we had uncovered." Hector was about to go on to tell about the suitcase and the hidden treasure, but Jeremy stopped him.

"I already know about that Grandpa. Uncle Stanley was a good storyteller. Tell me more about where you went."

Hector started again.

"Well, we went somewhere where our families, along with us, had always wanted to go."

"Where was that Grandpa?"

"New York."

"Why didn't you stay there, Grandpa?"

"Jeremy, if your skin was as dark as mine, you wouldn't want to stay there for long either. Too much racism and prejudice swirling in the air. No one wants a feller coloured black living in the neighbourhood. Actually, it wasn't really my choice to leave. Everyone there made me. If I could have stayed I would, as long as no one despised me because of my skin colour. It wasn't my fault I was born black." There was a trace of resentment in Hector's voice.

"All you want to do is fit in. I wanted it very badly because I never had fitted in before in my life. I was always the outcast, staring on at others more fortunate. I guess I just wanted to change it all, and I would do anything it would take. But then again, some people just aren't accepting of others. And New York is one of those places. We didn't stay there for long."

Hector looked into his grandson's eyes and was surprised at the level of understanding shown in them. He continued to stare at little Jeremy, wondering what the world had come to.

"I see the other boys who have dark skin being bullied at school. They tell the teacher, but that doesn't do anything. They just bully them more and call them tell-tales. It never does any good."

Hector nodded. It was distressing that his grandson had to see what he had been through. Everything was changing. One day he would have to come to terms with that.

"Yes, well it's everywhere. The only thing that differs is the level people take it too." Hector continued on his story.

"So we came to Australia where we thought we knew we would be safe. And since then, our sunburnt country has become our home and shelter we had longed for for so long." And with that, Hector Zeroni sent away his grandson. He slowly lent back in his chair and slept, trying not to think about what he sorely wanted to forget.