Strange how I had never noticed before how expressive clouds can be, like people, changing, ageing, drifting apart.
At some point I must have fallen asleep, because suddenly I opened my eyes to find the sun had disappeared and what I had thought was a line of hills, blue in the distance, was in fact a long bank of cloud that had swallowed up the sky. It was going to rain. I was incredibly hungry. If thought if I didn’t eat something soon, I would faint. I squeezed myself out of my hollow and peered down the track. Where I had caught the gleam of sunlight on metal before, there was nothing now but leaves. Had he gone, or was it just that the sun had moved round? Was he hiding, waiting for me? Maybe everywhere I go from now on, he’ll be hiding, waiting. Stop. Don’t think those thoughts. If you think like that, you will be his prisoner all your life .
I knew I had to find food. I looked around me. There were trees, bushes, grass, leaves. Were any of them good to eat? I pulled a handful of grass—well, if cows eat it, it must be OK. I chewed at it, but I couldn’t bring myself to swallow. There were some red berries on a shrub with a vivid toxic lustre. Mamma, Pappa, you know about this sort of thing. Don’t be foolish, Irina. You know you shouldn’t eat berries or mushrooms unless you are absolutely sure. How many times do I have to tell you that?
Even as I was turning these thoughts over in my head, I had already started to walk back down the track. In the daytime, it seemed no distance. I crawled through and walked down the other side of the hedge to keep out of view. At the bottom, the track widened out and there was an old wooden table with benches on each side, though some of the planks had been pulled off. There was no vehicle in sight, but the ground was gashed with tyre marks. Either he’d been back, more than once, or there’d been other vehicles. I looked more closely. There, in one of the wheel-ruts, I spotted the stub of a cigar. My heart started up—boom boom. I remembered he had a cigar last night, but was it the same cigar? Or had he been back? Had he been sitting in his mafia-machine, smoking a cigar and waiting for me? “ Little flower …” I stamped on the stub and ground it into the grass. And there was another strange object, something grey and rubbery. It looked like part of a shoe. What a stink! But Vulk’s shoes were shiny black.
Then I noticed, beneath the broken table, a screwed-up bundle of paper. I knew at once what it was. Another stroke of good luck! I picked it up. That smell! I couldn’t help myself. I was salivating like a dog. I unwrapped the bundle and counted them. One, two, three…There were lots! I stuffed them into my mouth. My stomach growled with pleasure. They were cold and stiff, like dead men’s fingers. They were absolutely delicious. And something else was buried there beneath the chips, something golden and crispy. I broke off a piece and put it on my tongue. It was like manna. It was…It was all gone.
Then I thought, what an idiot you are, standing here by the roadside where anyone passing could see you, stuffing yourself with somebody’s thrown-away leftovers. If Mother could see you… Well, she can’t, can she?
Somebody’s leftovers…Whose leftovers? Did he have some chips in the car last night? No, I would have noticed the smell. So they must be someone else’s. Or maybe he went and bought some chips, and came back here, and sat in the car and waited for me to return. Waited for me so he could… Stop! Don’t think that thought. Every time you think of him, he possesses you .
The ferry terminal is almost deserted, and silent apart from the wailing of a small tired chocolate-smeared girl tugging at the skirt of her equally tired mother. Marta remembers the bustle and excitement of their arrival, only a few weeks ago. Now everyone seems so despondent. Andriy stayed at the beach. Emanuel has gone to look at the boats. The two Chinese girls are
At some point I must have fallen asleep, because suddenly I opened my eyes to find the sun had disappeared and what I had thought was a line of hills, blue in the distance, was in fact a long bank of cloud that had swallowed up the sky. It was going to rain. I was incredibly hungry. If thought if I didn’t eat something soon, I would faint. I squeezed myself out of my hollow and peered down the track. Where I had caught the gleam of sunlight on metal before, there was nothing now but leaves. Had he gone, or was it just that the sun had moved round? Was he hiding, waiting for me? Maybe everywhere I go from now on, he’ll be hiding, waiting. Stop. Don’t think those thoughts. If you think like that, you will be his prisoner all your life .
I knew I had to find food. I looked around me. There were trees, bushes, grass, leaves. Were any of them good to eat? I pulled a handful of grass—well, if cows eat it, it must be OK. I chewed at it, but I couldn’t bring myself to swallow. There were some red berries on a shrub with a vivid toxic lustre. Mamma, Pappa, you know about this sort of thing. Don’t be foolish, Irina. You know you shouldn’t eat berries or mushrooms unless you are absolutely sure. How many times do I have to tell you that?
Even as I was turning these thoughts over in my head, I had already started to walk back down the track. In the daytime, it seemed no distance. I crawled through and walked down the other side of the hedge to keep out of view. At the bottom, the track widened out and there was an old wooden table with benches on each side, though some of the planks had been pulled off. There was no vehicle in sight, but the ground was gashed with tyre marks. Either he’d been back, more than once, or there’d been other vehicles. I looked more closely. There, in one of the wheel-ruts, I spotted the stub of a cigar. My heart started up—boom boom. I remembered he had a cigar last night, but was it the same cigar? Or had he been back? Had he been sitting in his mafia-machine, smoking a cigar and waiting for me? “ Little flower …” I stamped on the stub and ground it into the grass. And there was another strange object, something grey and rubbery. It looked like part of a shoe. What a stink! But Vulk’s shoes were shiny black.
Then I noticed, beneath the broken table, a screwed-up bundle of paper. I knew at once what it was. Another stroke of good luck! I picked it up. That smell! I couldn’t help myself. I was salivating like a dog. I unwrapped the bundle and counted them. One, two, three…There were lots! I stuffed them into my mouth. My stomach growled with pleasure. They were cold and stiff, like dead men’s fingers. They were absolutely delicious. And something else was buried there beneath the chips, something golden and crispy. I broke off a piece and put it on my tongue. It was like manna. It was…It was all gone.
Then I thought, what an idiot you are, standing here by the roadside where anyone passing could see you, stuffing yourself with somebody’s thrown-away leftovers. If Mother could see you… Well, she can’t, can she?
Somebody’s leftovers…Whose leftovers? Did he have some chips in the car last night? No, I would have noticed the smell. So they must be someone else’s. Or maybe he went and bought some chips, and came back here, and sat in the car and waited for me to return. Waited for me so he could… Stop! Don’t think that thought. Every time you think of him, he possesses you .
The ferry terminal is almost deserted, and silent apart from the wailing of a small tired chocolate-smeared girl tugging at the skirt of her equally tired mother. Marta remembers the bustle and excitement of their arrival, only a few weeks ago. Now everyone seems so despondent. Andriy stayed at the beach. Emanuel has gone to look at the boats. The two Chinese girls are
Similar Books
