White Ravens by Owen Sheers

Author:Owen Sheers
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: epub, ebook, QuarkXPress
ISBN: 111-1-11-111111-1
Publisher: Seren
Published: 2013-03-06T05:00:00+00:00

‘I made you some breakfast,’ she said, laying the knife in place. ‘Though lord knows, it’s more like yer lunch now.’ Bending down at the range she covered her hand with the dishcloth and took out a plate of bacon from the warming shelf. The smell of it spread through the kitchen. When was the last time he’d smelt bacon like that? Never since he’d left home, that was for sure. Placing the plate on the table she pulled back the chair and, raising her eyebrows, invited him to sit down.

‘Thank you,’ he said, looking around the room for a clock. There wasn’t one and his own watch lay beside his bed upstairs. ‘What time is it?’

She was at the counter, her back to him, slicing some eggs she’d boiled. ‘Around eleven I’d say,’ she said, peering out of the window. ‘Or half-past.’

Was that really the best he could do? The first time he addresses her and he chooses a question you’d ask any stranger in the street. As she tipped the slices of egg onto his plate he tried again.

‘I’m Matthew.’

‘I know who you are,’ she said, turning back to the counter. ‘Ben told me.’

He waited for her to introduce herself, but she carried on preparing some potatoes as if he wasn’t there. She’d begun to hum the song again.

‘I hope I didn’t wake you last night, coming in so late.’

‘Wake me? Duw, I wouldn’ worry about that bach,’ she said without turning round. ‘I wasn’ even here.’

She was making him feel foolish, like a little boy.

‘Where were you?’

The question sounded blunt and clumsy on his ear.

‘Down at the exchange.’

‘The exchange?’

‘’Mergency telephone exchange. Got t’ do yer bit haven’ you? Though since they stopped bombing there hasn’ been much emergency about it.’

Turning around she leant back against the counter, wiping her hands on her apron. When he looked up she was smiling, as if she’d stopped playing with him now. ‘I do the late shift. Once a week.’

‘Right, I see. Yes.’

For a moment neither of them spoke. The sun lit swirling motes of dust in a broad beam that fell through the kitchen. The bleats of lambs and birdsong filtered through to them. Matthew felt an urgent pressure to speak, to say something, anything.

‘Lovely flowers,’ he said at last, nodding at the primroses on the table.

She smiled again, acknowledging his awkwardness. Pulling out a chair she sat down beside him ‘So,’ she said leaning forward and placing her elbows carefully on the table. ‘You’ve come for the birds?’

‘Yes,’ Matthew said, glad to be answering a question rather than asking one. ‘That’s right.’

Suddenly, she was laughing. A bright, full laugh, and shaking her head as if in disbelief, loosening the dark knot of her hair, a few strands falling free. And then, because she was, he was laughing too, though at what or why he didn’t know.

‘What is it?’ he asked her.

‘Oh,’ she said, speaking through a deep breath. ‘Nothin’ really. It’s jus’ well, ridiculous isn’t it? I mean Ben used to get such a tellin’ off for going’ up there an’ stealin’ eggs an’ such.

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