Free Breaking Light by Karin Altenberg Page A

stream today …’
    Michael took the boat and looked at it. ‘Wow!’ he said, and it made Gabriel feel good.
    â€˜You like it, then?’
    â€˜Yeah, it’s brilliant … But look, Gabe, I only came over to say that I can’t come to the bridge today.’
    â€˜Oh?’ Gabriel shrugged.
    â€˜Dad’s taking me to the beach. And afterwards we’re having fish and chips for supper, by the harbour, where the fishing boats come in.’ Michael was beaming.
    â€˜All right,’ Gabriel said, and looked down at his shoes. Why should he care about the fishing boats?
    â€˜Thanks for the boat, though. I’ll test it at the beach and let you know how it works.’
    â€˜That’s okay. I don’t even like sailing boats. I prefer motorboats.’
    The words rolled out over the road as hard as the pebble before. Gabriel frowned and bit his lip. It was not what he had meant to say. He wanted to say something else. But Michael was in a hurry, already crossing the street to where Mr Bradley’s car was waiting, somewhere nearby.
    Gabriel felt cold again, although he was standing in the sun, blinking hard.
    And then he saw Mother outside Mr Rowden’s. He was suddenly glad to see her, although he felt he didn’t really want to talk to anyone at that moment – not to Michael, not to Mother – just put his head inside her summer coat where he knew it would be warm.
    â€˜Oh, dear. But, Gabriel, what
are
you doing?’ Mother’s laugh sounded nervous. ‘In the middle of the street.’ So that he felt he had to pull away from her and, when he did, he saw Mr Bradley’s car parked just a few yards away and he saw Michael standing next to it and Mrs Bradley opening a door to put a hamper in theback seat, and he hoped that Mother hadn’t seen but he knew by her body, by the way she held her breath, that she had. Suddenly, Mrs Bradley looked up, and Mum looked too, and Mrs Bradley’s smile went strange and, for a moment, Gabriel thought she was going to say something – to call out to them. Only, he didn’t want her to. He felt a vague sense of panic rising inside him and he took Mother’s hand and pulled it hard and, for once, they both pulled in the same direction – away from the car where the Bradleys were getting ready to go to the seaside; away from Mrs Bradley, who wore a pale yellow short-sleeved summer dress. Her arms looked lovely and her dark brown hair, shining in the sun, was tied loosely with a yellow ribbon at the back. Because Gabriel had time to see all this before he pulled Mother away.
    As they turned their backs on the car and started in the other direction towards the church, Mother’s hand felt rubbery and strange, as if she too was cold and forgotten like he had been in the shade. He felt he ought to say something but he could not say anything, because of his mouth, the dryness that would smell stale and the feeling of
alone
that he remembered still, and what was there to say, anyway? It was very warm and the sun made sharp geometries of the world, triangles of light and dark, and Gabriel held on to Mother’s hand all the way back to the cottage, even though he was already nine.
    *
    Perhaps the memory of the incident in the street still lingered somewhere in Gabriel’s mind as he found himself at the back of Uncle Gerry’s cottage a few weeks later with the big sledgehammer. The summer was weary by now and so were their games. The weight of the sledgehammer felt good in his hand as he flattened the woodlice against a stone, his own desolation diminishingwith each perfect thud. Michael was there, of course, a frantic shine in his brown eyes and his dirty fingers eagerly feeding more woodlice for the block. ‘Let me try! Please, Gabe, let me!’
    â€˜No!’
    Thud! Thud!
    Michael with his rich dad, a father who afforded where others failed – and his hands the