Читать книгу The Messiah's Dream Machine - Jennifer Friedman - Страница 6

Promises

Of all Ma’s promises to me, the most important one she made was when I was nearly five years old, sad and heartsick after Sandy, my old dog and best friend, had died.

On the day she made that promise, we walked hand-in-hand to where two men were standing on the platform at the railway station. They looked exactly the same.

“That’s because they’re identical twins,” Ma whispered. She said hello to them, but the men only grunted. I held Ma’s hand tighter.

“What’s the matter with them, Ma?”

“There’s something wrong with their brains, love. They don’t work very well. It makes them think very slowly.”

The sun clicked on the hot, corrugated-iron roof above our heads. In the shade behind the men, a trolley was piled high with suitcases and crates, milk cans and trunks. I could hear a puppy whimper. A small boy and girl, dressed in school uniforms, sobbed as they clung to their mother’s skirt. I watched her kneel amongst the piles of bags and trunks at their feet to comfort them; watched how she held them in the close circle of her arms. I looked at Ma, saw her brows crease as she stared at the sad tableau.. The corners of her mouth drooped, and her eyes looked flat, and far away. I could smell the hot smell of coal dust, and grease.

Suddenly, she reached out and hugged me, and then – just as suddenly – she pulled away, put one hand on my shoulder, and with the other, tilted my chin so that I looked up at her.

“I would never do that to you, love,” she said. “I’ll never send you away to a boarding school.” Her voice was fierce and low. “Never,” she promised.

I believed her.