The Ice is Singing
“To prevent intruders, perhaps – or stop the children, like creatures in a zoo, from escaping. He stood right next to the wire, close enough so that each eye was looking through a separate diamond-shaped space. As he leant forward to stare, silently imploring the clusters of children by the wall, and round the boilerhouse, to break up and reveal themselves, his hands came up and gripped the wire either side of his staring face. She wasn’t there at first. His clenched hands were sweating. He stood rigid, willing her to appear.
Then from around a corner – or skipping out from the middle of a crowd right under his nose – would come the yellow-white fluff of hair, framing the terrible sweet face. There she was.
She never looked at him. She seemed to be happy, engaged with other children. Laughing, or being chased, or intent in intimate conversation. Once he had spotted her it was impossible to lose sight of her; she was the only child in the playground with hair so blonde it was ne...arly white – silver in some lights, a warm pale-yellow silver, like early morning sunshine, not the sad grey-silver of old age.MoreLess
Then from around a corner – or skipping out from the middle of a crowd right under his nose – would come the yellow-white fluff of hair, framing the terrible sweet face. There she was.
She never looked at him. She seemed to be happy, engaged with other children. Laughing, or being chased, or intent in intimate conversation. Once he had spotted her it was impossible to lose sight of her; she was the only child in the playground with hair so blonde it was ne...arly white – silver in some lights, a warm pale-yellow silver, like early morning sunshine, not the sad grey-silver of old age.MoreLess
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