Free Red Sky at Sunrise: Cider with Rosie, As I Walked Out One Midsummer Morning, A Moment of War by Laurie Lee Page A

corner, began to talk to the cat and play with some fragments of cloth. So with the curtains drawn close and the pancakes coming, we settled down to the evening. When the kettle boiled and the toast was made, we gathered and had our tea. We grabbed and dodged and passed and snatched, and packed our mouths like pelicans.
    Mother ate always standing up, tearing crusts off the loaf with her fingers, a hand-to-mouth feeding that expressed her vigilance, like that of a wireless-operator at sea. For most of Mother’s attention was fixed on the grate, whose fire must never go out. When it threatened to do so she became seized with hysteria, wailing and wringing her hands, pouring on oil and chopping up chairs in a frenzy to keep it alive. In fact it seldom went out completely, though it was very often ill. But Mother nursed it with skill, banking it up every night and blowing hard on the bars every morning. The state of our fire became as important to us as it must have been to a primitive tribe. When it sulked and sank we were filled with dismay; when it blazed all was well with the world; but if – God save us – it went out altogether, then we were clutched by primeval chills. Then it seemed that the very sun had died, that winter had come for ever, that the wolves of the wilderness were gathering near, and that there was no more hope to look for…
    But tonight the firelight snapped and crackled, and Mother was in full control. She ruled the range and all its equipment with a tireless, nervous touch. Eating with one hand, she threw on wood with the other, raked the ashes, and heated the oven, put on a kettle, stirred the pot, and spread out some more shirts on the guard. As soon as we boys had finished our tea, we pushed all the crockery aside, piled it up roughly at the far end of the table, and settled down under the lamp. Its light was warm and live around us, a kind of puddle of fire of its own. I set up my book and began to draw. Jack worked at his notes and figures. Tony was playing with some cotton reels, pushing them slowly round the table.
    All was silent except Tony’s voice, softly muttering his cotton reel story.
    ‘… So they come out of this big hole see, and the big chap say fie and said we’ll kill ‘em see, and the pirates was waiting up ’ere, and they had this gurt cannon and they went bang fire and the big chap fell down wheeee! and rolled back in the ’ole and I said we got ’em and I run up the ’ill and this boat see was comin’ and I jumped on board woosh cruump and I said now I’m captain see and they said fie and I took me ’atchet ’ack ’ack and they all fell plop in the sea wallop and I sailed the boat round ’ere and round ’ere and up ’ere and round ’ere and down ’ere and up ’ere and round ’ere and down ’ere…’
    Now the girls arrived home in their belted mackintoshes, flushed from their walk through the dark, and we looked up from our games and said; ‘Got anything for us?’ and Dorothy gave us some liquorice. Then they all had their supper at one end of the table while we boys carried on at the other. When supper was over and cleared away, the kitchen fitted us all. We drew together round the evening lamp, the vast and easy time… Marjorie began to trim a new hat, Dorothy to write a love-letter, Phyllis sat down with some forks and spoons, blew ah! and sleepily rubbed them. Harold, home late, cleaned his bike in a corner. Mother was cutting up newspapers.
    We talked in spurts, in lowered voices, scarcely noticing if anyone answered.
    ‘I turned a shaft to a thou’ today,’ said Harold.
    ‘A what?’
    ‘He said a “thou”.’
    Chairs creaked awhile as we thought about it…
    ‘Charlie Revell’s got a brand new suit. He had it made to fit…”
    ‘He half fancies himself.’
    ‘Charlie Revell!…’
    Pause.
    ‘Look, Doth, I got these bits for sixpence. I’m going to stitch ’em all round the top here.’
    ‘Mmmmm. Well. Tccch-tcch. S’all