Day by A. L. Kennedy

Author:A. L. Kennedy [Kennedy, A. L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Literary, War & Military
ISBN: 9780307268679
Google: F6FNfK75X04C
Amazon: 0307386317
Barnesnoble: 0307386317
Publisher: Vintage
Published: 2008-01-08T05:00:00+00:00

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On the train back from Scotland the crew occupied a compartment, filled the luggage racks, lit up, removed its boots. They hadn’t slept much, not really at all – talking and singing their last night into tatters before a far too early start. Alfred, snug beside the window, glanced round at his family, his people: Miles asleep already – was he ever entirely awake? – and his snoring desynchronised with the engine, the Bastard nodding, Torrington eating a sandwich – one of the many dozen Mrs MacKenzie had supplied – Pluckrose sitting opposite and gazing out through the glass, something slightly misty in his expression, Molloy slowly courting a bottle of beer, then going in very quick but gentlemanly with his opener, and the skipper glancing back at Alfred, winking. Alfred couldn’t quite return the wink, it didn’t seem respectful, but he grinned, let himself believe what it seemed the skipper wanted – that they were set, every one of them set and a good, good fit and ready to go and do their work again.

You’d always remember Skip’s hands. After the first few ops, you could see the bone in them, the tendons, a sense of grip. Hauling a Lanc about, it changed you. Said it gave him forearms like Popeye – but that was no good cos he’d always favoured Betty Boop, not Olive Oyl. Skinny girls were never any fun.

Without discussion, they’d happily commandeered the compartment’s eighth seat, sat bottles on it, two fruit cakes and a small deer’s head (with antlers for the use of), a dilapidated object which Pluckrose was bringing down for the sergeants’ mess.

Dilapidated – more appropriate for buildings, it being to do with stones, but you’d liked to have the thought of it in your mouth. You’d let your first sip of beer in to melt it through you, a word you might never have met, would probably never use, but it was there in any case, swallowed down and warm, slipping under your chin.

Put it in a letter – try and make her laugh. Tell her about the deer. Joyce would want to know about the deer.

Of course, any civilian or even a service type could have come in and spoiled the arrangements, but Molloy said he had a plan ready for just such emergencies.

Alfred was travelling backwards because he now preferred it – liked things in the turret direction – the pools and streams and tawny slopes of moorland sliding away from him as he looked, being replaced by mountains: real mountains with snow on the top in Britain, he’d never have thought. And he watched the fat, white backside of a stag as the animal turned in fright, headed up over a slope in a punching, stilted run and disappeared. He’d never seen a live deer before, but didn’t want to mention this when Pluckrose seemed so fond of his little dead one.

And Alfred didn’t feel like talking, anyway – holding this stillness under his skin while the

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