The Thief of Time by John Boyne Page A

there. They bring the cows to the field to graze and in here to milk ‘em. That’s what you’re smelling. The milk.’
    He had a small basket of food but it was enough only to feed himself with a little left over. I declined his offer to share, feeling it would be rude to deprive him of his meal after he had driven us so far for so many hours, but Dominique ate a leg of chicken which he forced on her, and Tomas would have greedily eaten the lot if she had not insisted that she share her portion with him. I watched as they ate, my mouth salivating, still resonant with the taste of the chewing tobacco, but claimed I felt ill from the motion of the cart so as not to appear the martyr. We talked for a little more time, the four of us, and Dominique grew animated now, asking him many questions about his village and the activities of – as she put it – the surrounding ten square miles, as if she was considering changing our London plans now that we had a horse and cart to take us elsewhere. It sounded a pleasant enough place but then I was not too concerned with our final destination, so sure was I that I could make a go of our lives anywhere, as long as we were together. It grew darker in the barn as our candle burned out but in its flicker her smile, as she told some tale of a show she had once seen in Paris where the girls had worn no underwear and the men had been tied to their seats in order to avoid a riot, made me long to hold her, to take her in my arms and feel my body become one with hers. My mind swam with the madness of my desire for her and I wondered whether I could get through an evening without wanting to kiss her. I questioned our friendship, whether it was simply based on my desire to touch her, to be touched by her, and found that I no longer heard a word of her conversation as I simply stared at her face and body and allowed my head to be filled with visions of the two of us together. I longed to tell her how I felt but the words were not to be found. My mouth opened and closed and despite Tomas and despite Furlong I found myself close to falling on top of her as the room would swim in darkness around us and there would be just us, just the two of us, just Dominique and Matthieu. No one else.
    â€˜Matthieu,’ said Dominique, pushing me gently on the arm and snapping me out of my daze. ‘You look as if you are about to collapse with exhaustion.’
    I smiled and looked around the group, blinking several times as I tried to focus on them. Tomas was already curled up asleep in a corner, his jacket taken off and thrown carelessly across his body. Furlong was watching Dominique as she stepped outside the barn for a few moments and walked not so far away that we could not hear her pissing in the grass, a sound which embarrassed me as we sat there in silence. When Furlong and I went outside upon her return to do similar, I tried to move further away but he stopped short and I was obliged to stand alongside him as he talked.
    â€˜You’re a lucky lad to have a sister like that,’ he said, laughing. ‘She’s something for the eyes, ain’t she? And those stories she tells, saucy girl. Why, she must have suitors all the way from here to Paris and back.’
    Something in the tone of his voice offended me and I looked across at him sharply as he shook himself dry. ‘She keeps to herself and to Tomas and I,’ I said gruffly. ‘We still have a distance to travel and we have no time for suitors or anything of that sort.’ I decided immediately that we would continue on to London in the morning and nowhere else.
    â€˜I meant no harm,’ said Furlong as we stepped back inside and settled ourselves in the remaining two corners of the barn for a night’s sleep. ‘Some things just cry out to be said, that’s all,’ he whispered in my ear as he left me, his breath stinking now from the chicken he had brought with him. ‘Like some deeds