A Place of Meadows and Tall Trees Read Online Free Page A

Forgive me.
    Megan, Megan, Megan.
    â€˜Hush,’ Elinor hadn’t answered but had held Richard out to him. ‘Look after your son.’
    But he hadn’t taken him, not straightaway. ‘Is she dead?’
    Too loud. Blurted out. Elinor had shaken her head. ‘Hush, think of the child.’
    Then they’d both heard: a weak crying and Elinor had shoved Richard into his arms and hurried back, shutting the door behind her.
    Then, for a long time, not a cry, not a shout, not even the murmur of conversation, until at last the door of the cottage had opened and the doctor had called him, his face long and unsmiling. ‘A fine girl,’ he’d said. ‘You’re a lucky man.’
    â€˜And my wife? I heard her...’
    For a few seconds the old devil had played with him, shaken his head slightly but then looked up and at last he had smiled. ‘Lucky for you I managed to turn her. They are both well. Your wife, Mr James, is a courageous young woman. A gem, in fact.’ He smiled more broadly. ‘A bit of a polish now and again and she’ll sparkle for you, I expect. But now she needs to rest. Leave her be a while.’
    Both well. As soon as the doctor had gone he’d rushed in.
    â€˜Mam, can you give that fire a prod? There’s more wood by the stove.’
    Myfanwy had been in her arms, her head twisting and her mouth rooting.
    She’d pretended not to notice him. ‘Not as pretty as her brother, poor thing – looks too much like her father.’ Then she’d looked up at him and smiled. Ah, that smile – how he’d wanted to hug it to him then and make promises he had absolutely no hope of keeping! If only he could see it again now.
    Megan is sitting where he left her, legs drawn up, her chin resting on her knees, staring into the fire.
    â€˜Megan?’ She makes no sign. He calls her again and she turns towards him.
    The light is strange. The sky is too open. The flames and smoke are being churned violently by the wind and make shadows that flicker on her skin. He looks at her sunken eyes, and the flesh drooping from the bones of her cheeks. How can she have changed so much without his noticing?
    â€˜Gwyneth needs you, cariad .’
    She holds out her arms in silence. He watches as she tends to Gwyneth, guiding the child’s mouth onto her nipple and then stares again into the fire. His gem. His precious stone. Something he should have cared for. He slumps down beside her and holds her hand in his. His fault. Every promise he made himself, he’s broken. I’m sorry, he says. We shouldn’t have come here.
    He looks around. Desert. A cold desert of bitter winds. He squeezes her hand again. Then wraps his arm around her shoulder, holding them both to him. Sorry, he says again.

Four
    Yeluc

    This I know: the world belongs to Elal. Where his arrowheads touched the ocean floor so the ground rose up. Great rivers drained the water from the land and the memory of this is imprinted in the dry gorges and wide empty canyons. This was before man came. Before man became. Before Elal thought of us. He planted forest, swept out plains with his arms, drew up mountains with his fingertips, and then he thought of us: his Tehuelche. He made us large and strong like himself and he gave us legs so we could wander around his great creation. I suppose he wanted an audience, animals who would talk more loudly than the mikkeoush and armadillos. So he thought of us. His people. His guardians for all that he had made rise up from the ocean. He filled us with promises and hope. He told us that when we die he would see that we would take our places in the firmament and shine as stars. Elal. A god but also a man. A giant but also small enough for us to see. It is his land, he allows us to dwell here because of his great munificence. It is important to remember this. Important to know. Important to tell those around us and to remind the children that come after