Read Online Back to Blackbrick by Sarah Moore Fitzgerald - Free Book Online

thought I wasn’t allowed to talk about that anymore,” I replied.
    â€œFair enough, then,” he said, and he smiled and looked down again at the horses’ feet.

    Hitching horses to a cart is a difficult thing to do, especially when there’s not much light left and there are only two people available to do it, and one of them doesn’t know how to, but I watched him really carefully and tried to remember everything.
    â€œI thought you said you were a horseman,” said Kevin. He reckoned it was weird that I didn’t know anything about carts. I said nobody learns everything all in one go.
    Afterward I drew a few sketches and wrote all the details down in Ted’s notebook because you never know when information like that will be useful.

    I did my best not to think too much about the present, but it wasn’t easy. It kept floating into my head in the middle of conversations with Kevin, and I kept picturing John and wondering how he was getting on in his new home and thinking about how much I needed to see him. But I was committed to spending at least a few days in the past, and okay, it was weird that I was there and everything, but I had to stay calm, and I had to keep it together. When I did think about what Ted and Granny and Granddad might be doing now that I was probably an official missing person, I started to feel sick. I just hoped that when I got back, they’d be so relieved to see me that they’d forget about how ragingthey were. I wondered if Mum had been ringing, and if so, what the heck they were all going to tell her. But I couldn’t let myself get too distracted. When you’re studying your own ancestors’ childhood and taking as many notes as I was trying to—well, it’s a full-time job. You have to stay focused. You can only take care of one time zone at a time. That’s something I’ve definitely learned. It’s a useful thing that everyone should know.
    So when Kevin said, “Well? You ready?” I said I was. A hundred percent.
    The animals snorted and whinnied at us. Kevin patted them and said, “Easy, girl. Easy, fella,” and then we all went out of the courtyard and those horses were excellent, all serene and obedient. John would have gone mental if anyone had tried to attach him to a cart like that.
    Ghostly fingers of fog had started to drift around the trees again. Kevin had brought a blanket, and the two of us climbed up onto the cart, and he said, “Go on, go on,” and Ross and Somerville started trotting along, as if being hooked up to a cart with two nearly full-size humans on it was perfectly grand. Kevin spread the rug over our knees, like we were old people.
    There was nothing old about the way we took off. We picked up a load of speed, down a new and different driveway. This was the way to the north gates, he said.
    Soon we were rattling along, tearing down to the end of that drive with this new gateway staring us in the face. Iscrunched up my eyes, half ready to cross back over some time threshold or other as soon as we went out onto the road. I was on the brink of saying good-bye. But when I opened my eyes, we were already outside and the roads were made of mud. I laughed a bit. The wind was getting stronger, and I could feel the cart wobbling as gusts of it invisibly belted against us from all directions.
    â€œWow, I’m still here,” I whispered.
    And Kevin went, “Of course you are. Where else would you be?”

    It turns out that it’s easier to talk to someone who’s on a fast-moving cart than it is in practically any other situation that exists.
    â€œHey, Kevin, I hope you don’t think this is a personal question or anything, but how did you lose that finger?”
    He looked down at his hand and he went, “Good God! My finger. It’s missing!”
    It must have been the first time he’d ever cracked that particular joke, because he laughed for ages,