The Credit Draper by J David Simons

Author:J David Simons [J. David Simons]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781908643858
Publisher: Saraband
Published: 2014-05-05T04:00:00+00:00

Twenty-eight

IT WAS DEEP INTO THE NIGHT when he awoke to a light thudding sound at the door. At first, he thought the noise came from the snout or claw of a wild deer, a fox or even a sheep, but then he realised it was the scratching of a hand searching the cottage door for its handle.

“Uncle Mendel,” he whispered.

There was no reply. Just the click of the handle as it turned downwards.

“Uncle Mendel?”

The door opened. Backlit by the moon, a shrouded figure stood at the entrance.

“Uncle Mendel?” His voice shook from the realisation that the shape standing in the doorway was far too small to be that of his adopted uncle. He slipped his hand from underneath the bedclothes, his fingers searching desperately for the iron poker lying in the hearth. The figure took a couple of steps into the cottage.

“I’ve got a poker,” he shouted.

The intruder stopped. “No, ye havenae.”

“Bloody hell! It’s you.”

“Is that a way to greet a lady?”

“What are you doing here?”

“Have ye no a match to light a cruisie?”

He wrapped himself in his blanket, got out of bed, scrambled for the matches on the table by the window, lit the oil-soaked wick. The flame flickered to life, showing up Megan standing in the middle of the room, dressed in a maid’s uniform, a shawl drawn around her face. Some burrs clung to her black stockings. Her shoes and the lower part of her apron were splattered with mud.

“What happened?”

“I’ve run away.”

He saw she was trembling.

“I’ll get us warm,” he said. He quickly set about stoking up the fire, set a kettle above it when the flames took to the peat. Megan sat on the edge of the bed, leaning her head against the wall, watching him. She let her shawl drop around her shoulders, her hair shining in the flickering light as if it were her own personal beacon.

“Are you hungry?”

She nodded.

He brewed a pot of tea, cut her some slices of vursht. She looked at the meat suspiciously.

“It’s German sausage,” he explained.

“I thought we were at war with them.”

“More for you, less for the Germans, then.”

He was glad to hear her laugh, for she looked so close to tears. She folded the slice of meat in half, popped it into her mouth. Her hands were still shaking.

He passed her a cup of tea. “Put your palms around that. It’ll warm you up. I’ve got some milk if you want it.”

“Black’s fine.” She took a sip to wash down the meat. “Yer no bad with the fire for a city boy.”

“I’m better with coal. I’m not used to this peat. So what happened?”

“I dinnae ken what I’ve done. But I just cannae take it there.”

“What? You were only there half a day.”

“Aye, it’s all right for you to say. I saw from the first moment how it was going to be. Her ladyship was fine. She kent faither from him being the gamie. And I was all full of curtsies and ‘yes and no, your ladyship’.

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