Pynter Bender by Jacob Ross

Author:Jacob Ross [Jacob Ross]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780007287284
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2008-12-15T05:00:00+00:00

23

THESE MORNINGS the women’s eyes searched his face, striving to read the things he was not telling them. Walk more carefully, they said. He would be fifteen soon – a dangerous time for young people. In the evenings, on the way back from his school above the ocean, he should remember to turn to face each vehicle he heard coming up behind him. If it were full of soldiers, never look them in the eye. Force a smile – at least it would soften the sourness of that face of his, if nothing else.

A fast way home was anywhere that was not the road; it was the slopes that rose above San Andrews, the high hill gardens that overlooked the mansions just beyond them. The brutal heave of trees and mud tracks that stood between him and Old Hope.

His mother would reach up and pat his collar for the hundredth time, her eyes fixed on his face. And if, she said, her advice didn make no sense to him, just remember lil Jordan.

Lunchtimes, he reached into his bag and felt his slingshot lodged against his books, folded with the same care with which she wrapped his sandwiches. The rubber straps felt fragile between his fingers. His grandmother never forgot to place it there before he left for school, her way, perhaps, of reminding him too of Jordan. And it was true that every time his fingers brushed those straps, it stirred in him the memory of that boy, with his dangling arms, and eyes so glazed and distant it reminded Pynter of his father’s. The steady, staring eyes of Jordan which could no longer recognise the place he was born in. Jordan, standing at the side of Old Hope Road where Sylus and his men had dropped him, gazing into his mother’s face and not knowing who she was.

Jordan’s mother blamed it on Birdie. It was the scooter Birdie had left them all those years ago. It was the madness that this bit of wood and metal had sneaked into their children’s blood. The memory of their uncle standing on the top of Man Arthur’s Fall, tall as God, with his flying machine, had never left them. It had taken Birdie an evening to build it; a moment to show them what it did; no time at all to tell them how it would make them fly.

In the quiet of that evening, as soon as his uncle had left for Cynty’s house, he and the other boys had sat in a tight group by the roadside and talked about the machine Birdie had built Peter. It was not Birdie’s fault that it did not fly. It was the haste with which he’d built it. Becuz serious tings need serious time. And a jailbird like Birdie never have nuff time. Which meant, of course, they had to build themselves the machine he intended.

News of the carcasses of cars and trucks sent them walking the island with lengths of iron and crowbars across their shoulders.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.