Free Breaking Light by Karin Altenberg

last year, she had found a DVD in the
Gazette
with a free interactive induction course to corporate management for small-scale entrepreneurs. She had taken it into the village hall and put it into one of the computers. A nice young man from the college had helped her start it all up and then all she had to do was push the big button to the right. The young man had asked her if she was about to start her own business and she had said no, not really, but perhaps she would become employed one day.
    â€˜Oh dear; but I’m not really your manager – I have just asked you to do some cleaning for a few hours …’ His voice trailed off as she turned to glare angrily at him, but there was no way he could recoil further into the corner by the door.
    â€˜You may call yourself whatever you like, but what I mean to stress is that I still have my rights.’
    â€˜Yes, yes, naturally …’ He nodded, albeit still hesitantly. ‘But what exactly are they?’
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜The rights.’
    â€˜Oh.’ She was beginning to sound – and feel – rather impatient and she spoke very slowly and clearly. ‘As I said before, I expect you to listen.’
    â€˜Ah, of course … What was it that you said again?’
    She sighed deeply and shook her head. ‘
Where
would you like me to start?’
    â€˜Didn’t I say?’ He blushed and laughed briefly. ‘In the kitchen, please, if you wouldn’t mind. The floor needs washing; it’s a bit greasy, I believe.’
    Once he had shown her to the kitchen and laid out a smorgasbord of cleaning products, brushes and sponges, he retreated upstairs to the small room he had chosen as his bedroom. His armpits were clammy and his heart was beating so hard he could see his chest juddering as he lay down on the narrow bed. Through the floorboards, he could hear the anger in her limbs as she moved around downstairs. The white trainers squeaked against the floor and her arms clanked a brush hard on the sink.
Crash!
    He winced as he remembered the weight of the sledgehammer in his hand as he flattened the woodlice against a stone.
    â€˜Let me try. Please, Gabe, let me.’
    â€˜No!’
    Thud! Thud!
    *
    It was a day towards the end of that endless summer, the sun still warm; Gabriel was waiting outside the post office, wherethey had agreed to meet that morning. The plan was to make a new dam in the millstream under the bridge where the water was shallow and could easily be waded. Only Gabriel had been up early to buy a present for Michael in Mr Rowden’s shop. It was a little boat with a cotton sail that could be tacked and fastened to nails at the aft. The hull was dark blue and the keel was red and Gabriel thought it looked quite authentic. He had been eyeing it in the shop window for weeks. He had used all his savings, but he reckoned it was the right thing to do – to make up for making Michael cry that time when Mr Bradley had come to see Uncle Gerry.
    He had been waiting for a long time already; the sun had moved a little and he was now in the shade, so that he felt cold and a bit forgotten. He kicked a pebble across the tarmac and watched it settle in the middle of the road just as a car passed, coming in from the moor road. Then it was all quiet again. Waiting sometimes made him feel queer and he shuddered a bit. But, just then, he saw Michael on the other side of the street by Mr Rowden’s shop and he stepped into the sun, raising his arm, shouting, ‘Hey, Michael!’
    Michael looked up and waved. Then he turned and looked back over his shoulder once, before crossing the street towards Gabriel.
    â€˜Hey!’ Michael said, skipping a few steps. You could tell he was in a good mood.
    â€˜Here, I bought this for you.’ He handed over the little sailing boat, gently. ‘It can sail for real if you tie the sails to one corner. I thought we could try it in the