A Bit of Earth Read Online Free
Author: Rebecca Smith
than Guy. Resolutely single, he lived in Geneva and took energetic, purposeful holidays. Guy had never got to know him that well. Once, before Felix was born, they had joined him on a skiing holiday. Guy still felt diminished by it. Before they went, he had resolved to try to like skiing, but how could he really enjoy anything that involved such silly outfits and day-long bonhomie? On the first day he had ventured onto the slopes with them, but the snow had been much too slippery, and heâd had to take an ignominious ride back down on the lift and in an empty cable car. For the rest of the holiday he had walked in the forests and looked at mosses. Susannah had just laughed and said it didnât matter.
Although they had rarely seen Jon, Susannah had had long telephone conversations with him, usually in German or Swedish, conversations that Guy would never have been able to keep up with.
Now contact with Jon would be reduced to presents sent to Felix at random times of the year. Jon wasnât a rememberer or observer of other peopleâs birthdays, or even Christmas. But Felix loved the presents: a book about rocks and minerals; a book of maps of the Alps (perhaps Jon was imagining that he might take Felix on holiday with him one day); a box of huge seed pods (which Guy and Felix worked out were from starnutpalm, Maryâs bean, crabwood, and sea coconut); the shed skin of a viper; an Amazonian soldier ant pickled in a bottle (Guy said it was lucky that Grandpa Kenneth hadnât seen it first); some sharksâ teeth from a sailing holiday off Australia â¦
âDo you think Uncle Jon will ever come and visit us?â Felix would ask each time something arrived.
âMaybe,â said Guy, but he couldnât imagine what might bring Jon to their dull city, their shire-bound backwater. There were no dangerous sports to be had, no rapids to shoot.
âThen maybe we could go and visit him,â said Felix.
âMaybe.â
After the funeral, Kenneth would stay in touch only by letter, often enclosing some Euros for Felix. Guy knew that Kenneth had his own swallowed grief to cope with â first his wife, then his daughter â and that they should be sticking together. Perhaps Kenneth blamed him for the accident, thought that he could not have been taking proper care of Susannah. Words seemed to turn to pebbles in their mouths.
There must have been other relatives of Felix somewhere in Sweden. Elfie had had siblings. There must have been cousins somewhere, but Guy gave them no thought. He and Felix might appear as an English Misselthwaite dead end on that branch of the Swedish family tree. It didnât occur to him to be concerned.
Guyâs parents and his sister Jenny arrived for the funeral. They only mentioned the cost of their last-minute flights from New Zealand a few times. They stayed in the same Travelodge as Jon and Kenneth, and all carefully avoided having breakfast together. Guy was deeply grateful that nobody stayed with him, and didnât mind that Susannahâs family made their stay as short as possible. He found Jonâs physical resemblance to Susannah disturbing.
Jennyâs usual heartiness was muted, but only slightly. She found it hard to step out of her role as a tour leader of trekking holidays in the Tongariro National Park, the sort of vacations that are advertised in the back of the weekend papers and are supposedly designed for intrepid souls. Footloose in walking boots. Guy didnât think that it had been very independent to follow your retiring parents halfway across the world, and set up in their spare bedroom. He didnât hear his mother persuading Jenny not to wear her cargo shorts to the funeral.
They only stayed a week, and they hardly mentioned Susannah. They had all thought that she was so nice. They kept remembering the wedding, when they had been so impressed; it had been as though a Misselthwaite had managed to bag the blonde one
Although they had rarely seen Jon, Susannah had had long telephone conversations with him, usually in German or Swedish, conversations that Guy would never have been able to keep up with.
Now contact with Jon would be reduced to presents sent to Felix at random times of the year. Jon wasnât a rememberer or observer of other peopleâs birthdays, or even Christmas. But Felix loved the presents: a book about rocks and minerals; a book of maps of the Alps (perhaps Jon was imagining that he might take Felix on holiday with him one day); a box of huge seed pods (which Guy and Felix worked out were from starnutpalm, Maryâs bean, crabwood, and sea coconut); the shed skin of a viper; an Amazonian soldier ant pickled in a bottle (Guy said it was lucky that Grandpa Kenneth hadnât seen it first); some sharksâ teeth from a sailing holiday off Australia â¦
âDo you think Uncle Jon will ever come and visit us?â Felix would ask each time something arrived.
âMaybe,â said Guy, but he couldnât imagine what might bring Jon to their dull city, their shire-bound backwater. There were no dangerous sports to be had, no rapids to shoot.
âThen maybe we could go and visit him,â said Felix.
âMaybe.â
After the funeral, Kenneth would stay in touch only by letter, often enclosing some Euros for Felix. Guy knew that Kenneth had his own swallowed grief to cope with â first his wife, then his daughter â and that they should be sticking together. Perhaps Kenneth blamed him for the accident, thought that he could not have been taking proper care of Susannah. Words seemed to turn to pebbles in their mouths.
There must have been other relatives of Felix somewhere in Sweden. Elfie had had siblings. There must have been cousins somewhere, but Guy gave them no thought. He and Felix might appear as an English Misselthwaite dead end on that branch of the Swedish family tree. It didnât occur to him to be concerned.
Guyâs parents and his sister Jenny arrived for the funeral. They only mentioned the cost of their last-minute flights from New Zealand a few times. They stayed in the same Travelodge as Jon and Kenneth, and all carefully avoided having breakfast together. Guy was deeply grateful that nobody stayed with him, and didnât mind that Susannahâs family made their stay as short as possible. He found Jonâs physical resemblance to Susannah disturbing.
Jennyâs usual heartiness was muted, but only slightly. She found it hard to step out of her role as a tour leader of trekking holidays in the Tongariro National Park, the sort of vacations that are advertised in the back of the weekend papers and are supposedly designed for intrepid souls. Footloose in walking boots. Guy didnât think that it had been very independent to follow your retiring parents halfway across the world, and set up in their spare bedroom. He didnât hear his mother persuading Jenny not to wear her cargo shorts to the funeral.
They only stayed a week, and they hardly mentioned Susannah. They had all thought that she was so nice. They kept remembering the wedding, when they had been so impressed; it had been as though a Misselthwaite had managed to bag the blonde one
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