The Dig
“He had not heard her arrive. She had come through the cows and carried the basket that was always on her elbow with the tea towel over it. She had aged quickly some years ago and then seemed to stop and looked now like she had for years. His father had changed differently. He had seemed to be always the same but then went old very suddenly, as if he had given in under a weight.
The basket on his mother’s arm gave Daniel a strange sort of locus; he could rarely remember her coming without it. Sh...e looked him over, was sensible enough not to judge him in the clothes he was in, and they walked back to the house.
“How’s Dad?” he asked.
“Still slow with things,” she said. The stroke had split him down one side like lightning hitting an old tree. “He’s angry for you,” she said.
Daniel nodded.
They went into the house. By the time he had taken off his boots and waterproofs and come into the kitchen she was cleaning up and the kettle was boiling. He felt a slight filial guilt.MoreLess
The basket on his mother’s arm gave Daniel a strange sort of locus; he could rarely remember her coming without it. Sh...e looked him over, was sensible enough not to judge him in the clothes he was in, and they walked back to the house.
“How’s Dad?” he asked.
“Still slow with things,” she said. The stroke had split him down one side like lightning hitting an old tree. “He’s angry for you,” she said.
Daniel nodded.
They went into the house. By the time he had taken off his boots and waterproofs and come into the kitchen she was cleaning up and the kettle was boiling. He felt a slight filial guilt.MoreLess
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