gripped the glass.
At the bench, Pat cut a slice of bread. He must have heard what Anna said, but appeared completely focused on the loaf of bread. She’d forgotten how precisely he moved; it lent an importance to everything he did, even if it was just turning the pages of a book.
From outside came the sound of Sabine singing something in French. Her voice was sweet and high but she stopped singing as she entered the kitchen with the empty washing basket on her hip. She didn’t acknowledge Anna and Charlie where they sat on the floor, but disappeared into Pat’s bedroom.
Pat squatted in front of Charlie and offered her a plate of bread and honey. ‘This honey is from my hive. The bees got the nectar from the trees and bushes all around us,’ he said, gesturing over his shoulder.
Charlie looked at the bread but didn’t move.
‘Did you know that bees make honey?’ he asked.
Charlie shook her head.
‘Why don’t you take the plate?’ he said.
His eyes were as kind as ever but he looked much tireder. Or maybe that was just what ageing looked like.
Charlie lifted the slice of bread and took a big bite. Crumbs dropped to her lap. Anna heard a clunk from the bedroom.
Pat stayed crouched there, balancing the plate on the palm of his hand. He and Anna watched Charlie eat.
‘Good?’ he asked.
Charlie nodded, chewing, her eyes down.
‘Come up to the table, Charlie.’ Anna took the plate from Pat, and led the girl to the table and sat her on a chair. Charlie brushed crumbs from her lips.
Pat sat down. ‘A bee has to visit hundreds of flowers to make a teaspoon of honey.’ He’d always been good with kids. When Anna lived here, there was a family staying in a cabin on the next property. The three kids adored Pat and would hang around his workshop while he built furniture.
Anna said, ‘That seems like a lot of work for a little bit of honey.’ She was waiting for Sabine to emerge from the bedroom.
‘It’s precious stuff.’
Outside, the sun slipped behind the mountain and the breeze coming in the window cooled. Was it because she was exhausted or were things strangely dreamy here? She felt like she was in some weird film. Thunder rumbled and Charlie glanced at Anna.
‘It’s thunder,’ Anna said.
The girl’s face was blank.
‘Have you heard thunder before? In a storm?’
Pat said, ‘It’s the clouds bumping into each other and having a bit of a grumble about it. Nothing to worry about.’
Sabine appeared from the bedroom. She’d changed into a long loose dress and her hair was down. She leant over Pat to pour herself a cup of tea. ‘So, are you sleeping here tonight?’ Her voice was loud.
‘If that’s okay?’ said Anna.
Pat smiled. ‘Of course.’
Sabine nodded. ‘Good. So what do you need? Bath? Sleep?’ She glanced at the crumbs on Charlie’s plate. ‘Real food?’
‘Oh, a bath. I’d love a bath. We both need one.’
Sabine said, ‘The tanks are full and a storm coming. So take advantage and have a big one.’ She laid her hand briefly on Pat’s shoulder. ‘Just going to Beatie’s. Back soon.’
Anna remembered Beatie. A bit older than Anna, she’d lived in a tent while she painstakingly and single-handedly built a cabin further up the hill. One humid, hot day she’d helped Pat and Anna make three raised vegetable beds from railway sleepers.
Anna watched Sabine cross the yard, teacup in hand, and disappear into the forest, the clouds dark overhead.
Chapter Twelve
C harlie cupped her hand under the water trickling from the tap. Beside the bath was a big coloured-glass window, the red and orange triangles making the branches and leaves outside look a murky colour.
Charlie reached for the white cake of soap and it slipped away under the water. Anna – who knelt on the floor beside the bath – retrieved it for her. Charlie sat quietly as Anna rubbed at her skin with a soapy washer, cleaning the rings of ingrained dirt at the base of Charlie’s neck. The girl’s
At the bench, Pat cut a slice of bread. He must have heard what Anna said, but appeared completely focused on the loaf of bread. She’d forgotten how precisely he moved; it lent an importance to everything he did, even if it was just turning the pages of a book.
From outside came the sound of Sabine singing something in French. Her voice was sweet and high but she stopped singing as she entered the kitchen with the empty washing basket on her hip. She didn’t acknowledge Anna and Charlie where they sat on the floor, but disappeared into Pat’s bedroom.
Pat squatted in front of Charlie and offered her a plate of bread and honey. ‘This honey is from my hive. The bees got the nectar from the trees and bushes all around us,’ he said, gesturing over his shoulder.
Charlie looked at the bread but didn’t move.
‘Did you know that bees make honey?’ he asked.
Charlie shook her head.
‘Why don’t you take the plate?’ he said.
His eyes were as kind as ever but he looked much tireder. Or maybe that was just what ageing looked like.
Charlie lifted the slice of bread and took a big bite. Crumbs dropped to her lap. Anna heard a clunk from the bedroom.
Pat stayed crouched there, balancing the plate on the palm of his hand. He and Anna watched Charlie eat.
‘Good?’ he asked.
Charlie nodded, chewing, her eyes down.
‘Come up to the table, Charlie.’ Anna took the plate from Pat, and led the girl to the table and sat her on a chair. Charlie brushed crumbs from her lips.
Pat sat down. ‘A bee has to visit hundreds of flowers to make a teaspoon of honey.’ He’d always been good with kids. When Anna lived here, there was a family staying in a cabin on the next property. The three kids adored Pat and would hang around his workshop while he built furniture.
Anna said, ‘That seems like a lot of work for a little bit of honey.’ She was waiting for Sabine to emerge from the bedroom.
‘It’s precious stuff.’
Outside, the sun slipped behind the mountain and the breeze coming in the window cooled. Was it because she was exhausted or were things strangely dreamy here? She felt like she was in some weird film. Thunder rumbled and Charlie glanced at Anna.
‘It’s thunder,’ Anna said.
The girl’s face was blank.
‘Have you heard thunder before? In a storm?’
Pat said, ‘It’s the clouds bumping into each other and having a bit of a grumble about it. Nothing to worry about.’
Sabine appeared from the bedroom. She’d changed into a long loose dress and her hair was down. She leant over Pat to pour herself a cup of tea. ‘So, are you sleeping here tonight?’ Her voice was loud.
‘If that’s okay?’ said Anna.
Pat smiled. ‘Of course.’
Sabine nodded. ‘Good. So what do you need? Bath? Sleep?’ She glanced at the crumbs on Charlie’s plate. ‘Real food?’
‘Oh, a bath. I’d love a bath. We both need one.’
Sabine said, ‘The tanks are full and a storm coming. So take advantage and have a big one.’ She laid her hand briefly on Pat’s shoulder. ‘Just going to Beatie’s. Back soon.’
Anna remembered Beatie. A bit older than Anna, she’d lived in a tent while she painstakingly and single-handedly built a cabin further up the hill. One humid, hot day she’d helped Pat and Anna make three raised vegetable beds from railway sleepers.
Anna watched Sabine cross the yard, teacup in hand, and disappear into the forest, the clouds dark overhead.
Chapter Twelve
C harlie cupped her hand under the water trickling from the tap. Beside the bath was a big coloured-glass window, the red and orange triangles making the branches and leaves outside look a murky colour.
Charlie reached for the white cake of soap and it slipped away under the water. Anna – who knelt on the floor beside the bath – retrieved it for her. Charlie sat quietly as Anna rubbed at her skin with a soapy washer, cleaning the rings of ingrained dirt at the base of Charlie’s neck. The girl’s
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