Dawn of Fear
“They were there very shortly after breakfast, knocking self-consciously at the back door of Tom’s house, each arguing with the others in violent whispers over the best way to apologize to Mrs. Hicks if they had waked her up. But there was no need. When Tom came to the door, pushing his fingers sleepily through his short curly hair as if it were a hearthrug, he said that his mother was working an early shift at one of the factories and that she had already been gone for an hour.
“Come on in for ...a minute,” he said.
They stood in an awkward group in the small kitchen, waiting while he rinsed a plate and a cup at the sink. There was a coal stove in one corner, of the kind that all their own houses had, serving both to warm the kitchen and to heat the water supply. Tom bent down and shut its draft door when he had finished at the sink; his most casual actions seemed odd to them, like those not of a boy but of a grown man, the kind of things that their fathers would naturally do. Derek looked curiously around the kitchen and saw on one wall a picture frame that held not a picture but a printed notice.MoreLess
“Come on in for ...a minute,” he said.
They stood in an awkward group in the small kitchen, waiting while he rinsed a plate and a cup at the sink. There was a coal stove in one corner, of the kind that all their own houses had, serving both to warm the kitchen and to heat the water supply. Tom bent down and shut its draft door when he had finished at the sink; his most casual actions seemed odd to them, like those not of a boy but of a grown man, the kind of things that their fathers would naturally do. Derek looked curiously around the kitchen and saw on one wall a picture frame that held not a picture but a printed notice.MoreLess
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