Little Wing Read Online Free
they both sat there with her for a long time, and didnât press her to say anything, and after a while she got up and said goodbye to them and left.
T oday i told Matt about you. i watched him closely for his reaction, for any sign that you might not be welcome to him.
You canât count his initial hesitation. Then â Are you sure, he said.
â iâm sure.
â Weâll keep it, yeah? was the first thing he said.
And then he hugged us close.
â Yeah, i said.
It was such a relief to tell someone.
5
Emily lay in bed and listened to the sounds of Charlotteâs house. Even if Emily hadnât been there, it would still have sounded exactly the same. Sometimes she felt that she didnât exist, that she somehow filled no space in the world.
A door opened and closed with a hollow sound. The toilet flushed. There were footsteps down the hallway.
The sounds were remote and peaceful, and Emily, who had spent what felt like most of the night awake, turned over and closed her eyes again.
The cat had deserted her; it yowled in the kitchen. The refrigerator door opened and closed. A dish rattled.
She stayed in bed until well after Charlotte had gone out to her shed, and after dressing she just had to get out for a walk. She didnât enjoy walking, but it helped her not to think. She trudged to the lookout, stayed for as long as it took to glance down into the valley, and then went back. Something took her to Martinâs place.
It was a week since her last visit, and on the way up the hall Martin showed her Peteâs room, where the painting had been completed. It was a bright, glorious yellow.
âItâs beautiful,â she said flatly.
Emily knew that the room, so optimistically bright and still smelling of fresh paint, should be admired. But she didnât feel it was beautiful. Its freshness and hopefulness rather oppressed her. She lay down on Peteâs bed and closed her eyes, and when she looked up, Martin was standing there with two cups in his hands. Not tea this time, but hot chocolate.
They drank it in the back yard. For a little while he allowed her to sit hunched with her hands pressing the sides of the warm cup, and he didnât try to rush in with words; he waited for her to speak, and when she didnât, he squeezed her shoulder softly and said, âI was planning to replace some rotten boards in the bathroom. Want to help?â
They worked quietly. He asked her to hand him the tools, and got her to measure the length of the new lining boards. âI try to get stuff done while Peteâs not here,â he told her. She said nothing, just watched him. He bashed his thumb with the hammer and laughed. âShit!â He sang a song while he worked: âEagle Rockâ. But without any backing music it sounded thin and wistful.
After a while she drifted away, back to Peteâs room, where she lay on the bed listening to the sounds of hammering and sawing. The rhythmical sounds, and the way the timber house moved in response to the hammering, lulled her to sleep. She felt someone come into the room and drop a soft rug over her feet.
When she woke it was a different time of day, and the whole quality of the light had changed. Pete was standing next to her, saying, âThatâs my bed, Emmy! Itâs mine!â
âIâm sorry.â
But he forgave her quickly.
âDraw with me, Emmy! Draw with me!â A piece of paper was thrust at her, and soon she was crouching on the floor beside him. She was astonished at how physically she felt his presence â he had a ripe, yeasty odour, and when he leaned against her he was surprisingly heavy.
He scrawled over the paper, making a random pattern, and Emily filled in the spaces that were formed with squiggles, spots and stripes of various colours.
âWhat are you drawing?â said Martin, coming into the room with a plate of cheese on toast, which he placed on the floor next to
T oday i told Matt about you. i watched him closely for his reaction, for any sign that you might not be welcome to him.
You canât count his initial hesitation. Then â Are you sure, he said.
â iâm sure.
â Weâll keep it, yeah? was the first thing he said.
And then he hugged us close.
â Yeah, i said.
It was such a relief to tell someone.
5
Emily lay in bed and listened to the sounds of Charlotteâs house. Even if Emily hadnât been there, it would still have sounded exactly the same. Sometimes she felt that she didnât exist, that she somehow filled no space in the world.
A door opened and closed with a hollow sound. The toilet flushed. There were footsteps down the hallway.
The sounds were remote and peaceful, and Emily, who had spent what felt like most of the night awake, turned over and closed her eyes again.
The cat had deserted her; it yowled in the kitchen. The refrigerator door opened and closed. A dish rattled.
She stayed in bed until well after Charlotte had gone out to her shed, and after dressing she just had to get out for a walk. She didnât enjoy walking, but it helped her not to think. She trudged to the lookout, stayed for as long as it took to glance down into the valley, and then went back. Something took her to Martinâs place.
It was a week since her last visit, and on the way up the hall Martin showed her Peteâs room, where the painting had been completed. It was a bright, glorious yellow.
âItâs beautiful,â she said flatly.
Emily knew that the room, so optimistically bright and still smelling of fresh paint, should be admired. But she didnât feel it was beautiful. Its freshness and hopefulness rather oppressed her. She lay down on Peteâs bed and closed her eyes, and when she looked up, Martin was standing there with two cups in his hands. Not tea this time, but hot chocolate.
They drank it in the back yard. For a little while he allowed her to sit hunched with her hands pressing the sides of the warm cup, and he didnât try to rush in with words; he waited for her to speak, and when she didnât, he squeezed her shoulder softly and said, âI was planning to replace some rotten boards in the bathroom. Want to help?â
They worked quietly. He asked her to hand him the tools, and got her to measure the length of the new lining boards. âI try to get stuff done while Peteâs not here,â he told her. She said nothing, just watched him. He bashed his thumb with the hammer and laughed. âShit!â He sang a song while he worked: âEagle Rockâ. But without any backing music it sounded thin and wistful.
After a while she drifted away, back to Peteâs room, where she lay on the bed listening to the sounds of hammering and sawing. The rhythmical sounds, and the way the timber house moved in response to the hammering, lulled her to sleep. She felt someone come into the room and drop a soft rug over her feet.
When she woke it was a different time of day, and the whole quality of the light had changed. Pete was standing next to her, saying, âThatâs my bed, Emmy! Itâs mine!â
âIâm sorry.â
But he forgave her quickly.
âDraw with me, Emmy! Draw with me!â A piece of paper was thrust at her, and soon she was crouching on the floor beside him. She was astonished at how physically she felt his presence â he had a ripe, yeasty odour, and when he leaned against her he was surprisingly heavy.
He scrawled over the paper, making a random pattern, and Emily filled in the spaces that were formed with squiggles, spots and stripes of various colours.
âWhat are you drawing?â said Martin, coming into the room with a plate of cheese on toast, which he placed on the floor next to
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