Читать книгу The Last Family in England - Matt Haig - Страница 13

garden

I was in the garden with Adam.

On my side, in the middle of the grass, loving the sun and the warm breeze. With my ear to the ground I could pick up, deep below, the gentle pulse of the earth. Paa-dah. Paa-dah. Paa-dah.

Adam did not hear the sounds of the earth. He was in the middle of wrestling with a rosebush. And, even though he was armed with metal snippers, the rosebush clearly had the upper hand.

‘Agh. Shit. Jesus. Agh. Bloody. Christ,’ he said as thorned stems took the necessary defensive action. Eventually, although a few snips had been successful, he stood back and admitted defeat.

‘I don’t know, boy, I don’t know,’ he told me, drying his brow with the back of a gloved hand. One quick, squinted look towards the sun and then he was back, bending down and grappling with softer targets.

Snip, snip, snip.

Making sure Nature knew her place.