ourselves, and … and this moment. Now.’
I sniff and nod and make myself listen. Andjela stirs in her sleep behind us. He bends and whispers in my ear, warm breath: ‘You’ve got me.’
It’s so faint that afterwards I’m not sure I heard it right.
He leans back and he’s quiet, and I’m starting to tear the stupid T-shirt into bandages when I see him. There’s softness in his honey eyes, and all at once I know he’s been watching me. I mean really watching me. A birdcalls away in the treetops. With his eyes still on mine, he takes the T-shirt from me and puts it down. He lifts his hand and lightly brushes the tips of his fingers across my collar bone and under my bra strap. My skin prickles at his touch. He dips his hand into the hollow between my breasts, and there’s a bolt, a spark from his skin into mine that makes me shudder.
‘Sorry – you’re cold. I …’ he says and goes to help me back on with the jacket.
I stop him and find his hand. ‘No. No … it’s not that … I … please … I want …’
‘Come here.’
He smiles and brings me towards him, and then I see him wince in pain. I draw back at once.
‘Shit Joe. Your leg. Sorry!’
‘No it’s OK. It’s just … shit … actually it’s not. Sorry …’
He falls back against the wall and lets out a long breath. I turn and grab the T-shirt. I pull off a strip that just about covers the wound but won’t go all the way around his leg. I try again with another piece, but in the end, I use the whole T-shirt.
‘Sanda. You shouldn’t have done that,’ he says.
‘What? Why?’
‘The T-shirt. It’s freezing. You’re going to freeze. Anyway, I’m OK. I’m not going to die of a dog bite am I?’
‘Joe, it might have rabies.’
‘Oh right. Yeah. Thanks a bunch. Rabies.’
‘Sorry. I didn’t mean …’
‘Sanda. It’s OK.’
The stones crackle as he shifts his weight. I dig my fingernails into my palms and I wait. He reaches for my hand and presses it in his. He breathes, ‘Let’s try and get some sleep.’
I smile and suddenly I’m so cold. It crashes on me like a wave. I wrap my jacket tightly about me and button it. Soon his breathing is steady and I know he’s sleeping. And I’m on my own.
I lie awake watching my breath coming and going in misty plumes. I can still feel his fingers on my skin, and inside me, along every artery, in every vein, my blood fizzes and whips like electricity.
13
The next thing I know, light is pouring in through windows and the thousands of little holes in the wall. My body just doesn’t want to move. It’s so broken from the beating that I can’t lift myself up for a while. And when I do, the pain makes me gasp. An old tractor passes down the lane. The driver, a fat-faced man with hair the colour of straw, is chomping on a sandwich. I look down at Joe. My T-shirt bandage is wet with blood. He’s awake though, and staring at the ground.
‘How you feeling?’ I say. ‘Did you get any sleep?’
He shifts his weight and groans. ‘Not much. I’m OK. Just hungry.’
He turns his head away from me. I force myself to talk. ‘Look, we need to eat and we need to get that looked at. I think we should try to get away from here, to a village.’
‘Makes sense,’ he mutters. ‘Are you OK?’
I nod quickly. ‘I’m fine. Can you walk?’
‘Of course. It’s just a scratch.’ He smiles. ‘Look Sanda… about last night –’ I’m about to say something when he looks behind me and his eyes widen. ‘Where’s Andjela?’
‘What?’
I turn. She’s gone. He looks at me for a long time then says, ‘How well d’you know her?’
‘What?’ I snap.
‘All I’m saying is … can you trust her?’
I look at him. ‘You –’
We’re interrupted by a rustling in the weeds outside the house. We instinctively crouch into the shadows. A hand over the window ledge, and then a face: Andjela.
‘Where have you been?’ we both say at once.
In answer two loaves are thrown
I sniff and nod and make myself listen. Andjela stirs in her sleep behind us. He bends and whispers in my ear, warm breath: ‘You’ve got me.’
It’s so faint that afterwards I’m not sure I heard it right.
He leans back and he’s quiet, and I’m starting to tear the stupid T-shirt into bandages when I see him. There’s softness in his honey eyes, and all at once I know he’s been watching me. I mean really watching me. A birdcalls away in the treetops. With his eyes still on mine, he takes the T-shirt from me and puts it down. He lifts his hand and lightly brushes the tips of his fingers across my collar bone and under my bra strap. My skin prickles at his touch. He dips his hand into the hollow between my breasts, and there’s a bolt, a spark from his skin into mine that makes me shudder.
‘Sorry – you’re cold. I …’ he says and goes to help me back on with the jacket.
I stop him and find his hand. ‘No. No … it’s not that … I … please … I want …’
‘Come here.’
He smiles and brings me towards him, and then I see him wince in pain. I draw back at once.
‘Shit Joe. Your leg. Sorry!’
‘No it’s OK. It’s just … shit … actually it’s not. Sorry …’
He falls back against the wall and lets out a long breath. I turn and grab the T-shirt. I pull off a strip that just about covers the wound but won’t go all the way around his leg. I try again with another piece, but in the end, I use the whole T-shirt.
‘Sanda. You shouldn’t have done that,’ he says.
‘What? Why?’
‘The T-shirt. It’s freezing. You’re going to freeze. Anyway, I’m OK. I’m not going to die of a dog bite am I?’
‘Joe, it might have rabies.’
‘Oh right. Yeah. Thanks a bunch. Rabies.’
‘Sorry. I didn’t mean …’
‘Sanda. It’s OK.’
The stones crackle as he shifts his weight. I dig my fingernails into my palms and I wait. He reaches for my hand and presses it in his. He breathes, ‘Let’s try and get some sleep.’
I smile and suddenly I’m so cold. It crashes on me like a wave. I wrap my jacket tightly about me and button it. Soon his breathing is steady and I know he’s sleeping. And I’m on my own.
I lie awake watching my breath coming and going in misty plumes. I can still feel his fingers on my skin, and inside me, along every artery, in every vein, my blood fizzes and whips like electricity.
13
The next thing I know, light is pouring in through windows and the thousands of little holes in the wall. My body just doesn’t want to move. It’s so broken from the beating that I can’t lift myself up for a while. And when I do, the pain makes me gasp. An old tractor passes down the lane. The driver, a fat-faced man with hair the colour of straw, is chomping on a sandwich. I look down at Joe. My T-shirt bandage is wet with blood. He’s awake though, and staring at the ground.
‘How you feeling?’ I say. ‘Did you get any sleep?’
He shifts his weight and groans. ‘Not much. I’m OK. Just hungry.’
He turns his head away from me. I force myself to talk. ‘Look, we need to eat and we need to get that looked at. I think we should try to get away from here, to a village.’
‘Makes sense,’ he mutters. ‘Are you OK?’
I nod quickly. ‘I’m fine. Can you walk?’
‘Of course. It’s just a scratch.’ He smiles. ‘Look Sanda… about last night –’ I’m about to say something when he looks behind me and his eyes widen. ‘Where’s Andjela?’
‘What?’
I turn. She’s gone. He looks at me for a long time then says, ‘How well d’you know her?’
‘What?’ I snap.
‘All I’m saying is … can you trust her?’
I look at him. ‘You –’
We’re interrupted by a rustling in the weeds outside the house. We instinctively crouch into the shadows. A hand over the window ledge, and then a face: Andjela.
‘Where have you been?’ we both say at once.
In answer two loaves are thrown
Similar Books
