Read Online Bitter Chocolate by Sally Grindley - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sally Grindley
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didn’t it?’
‘You all right?’ Olivier whispered as Pascal continued to cough.
Pascal nodded. His mouth felt burnt and bitter, and the lingering taste of smoke made him desperate for water.
‘Where are you boys from, then?’ Seb asked after they had been walking for some time.
Olivier told him the name of their village.
‘Bad was it, there?’
‘You should know,’ Olivier muttered.
‘Wasn’t us,’ Gustav said sharply. ‘But we heard about it.’
Pascal didn’t believe him and a huge rage began to well up inside him. Were these the men who had . . . ?
‘We’re trying to protect people,’ Seb protested. ‘You can’t lump us all together.’
‘There are different factions,’ Gustav added.
Pascal didn’t know if he was supposed to believe them, but he didn’t trust them.
‘Where are you taking us?’ Olivier asked.
‘Our camp is close,’ Seb replied. ‘You hungry?’
Pascal nodded in spite of himself and despite a doubtful look from Olivier.
‘Then you shall eat,’ said Seb. ‘And drink. And sleep.’
They continued in silence, until the forest cover thinned and finally broke away. The shock of finding themselves in broad daylight again after so many hours in darkness made Pascal recoil, his eyes unable to adjust. The heat was suffocating. Then he saw village huts ahead of them and his heart skipped a beat in the hope of finding friendly faces there.
The village, however, was empty.
Seb and Gustav led them to one of the houses, ordered them to sit down and brought them bowls of cold maize soup. Pascal checked that Olivier was eating before he too started to eat. Then he wolfed the soup down, even though it was thin and tasteless. He glanced up to catch Seb smirking at them, which made him feel awkward and powerless.
‘Good, eh?’ Seb said. ‘Nice of someone to leave a pan of soup behind when they ran away. Sorry if it’s gone cold.’
‘What are you going to do with us?’ Olivier asked.
‘I told you. Here, drink this and then you’ll be ready for a good sleep.’ He held a beaker out to each of them.
‘You know that’s not what I meant,’ said Olivier.
Gustav glared at him and growled, ‘You ask too many questions. We don’t like kids who ask questions.’
‘Drink,’ Seb repeated. ‘You don’t want to go upsetting Gustav. He’s got a very short fuse.’
Pascal and Olivier took the drink they were offered. It tasted like some sort of fruit juice, Pascal thought, but he wasn’t sure what. He drank thirstily nevertheless. Seb then pointed to the beds and told them to lie down. Olivier protested that he wasn’t tired and didn’t want to go to sleep.
‘It’s not even dark yet,’ he said.
‘It will be when I close this door,’ Seb snorted. He went out, closed the door and locked it behind him.
‘Pig,’ Olivier called after him, but without any intensity.
Pascal fought to keep his eyes open in the blackness. ‘What do you think they’re going to do with us?’ he whispered. His voice sounded strange to him, as if it were travelling through a long tunnel.
There was no reply.
Chapter 17
It was raining the next morning. The sky was sombre in its dark-grey blanket, matched by the mood of the boys as they set off into the plantation. Nothing dampened their spirits more than working when it was wet. Everything was harder then. The machetes and cutting tools slipped dangerously in their hands. The sacks in which they collected the pods soaked up water and, added to the weight of the pods, rubbed their shoulders raw. Their sodden clothes chafed their skin.
Pascal and Tiene were ordered to fill sacks and carry them to the edge of the field. Kojo was sent to the field to split open pods, much to his dismay.
‘I’ll have Mr Piggy on my back again,’ he grumbled. ‘And my hands are already so covered in blisters I won’t be able to hold on to the machete.’
‘Hopefully you’ll let go of it and it’ll wing its way towards Pigface,’ grinned
‘You all right?’ Olivier whispered as Pascal continued to cough.
Pascal nodded. His mouth felt burnt and bitter, and the lingering taste of smoke made him desperate for water.
‘Where are you boys from, then?’ Seb asked after they had been walking for some time.
Olivier told him the name of their village.
‘Bad was it, there?’
‘You should know,’ Olivier muttered.
‘Wasn’t us,’ Gustav said sharply. ‘But we heard about it.’
Pascal didn’t believe him and a huge rage began to well up inside him. Were these the men who had . . . ?
‘We’re trying to protect people,’ Seb protested. ‘You can’t lump us all together.’
‘There are different factions,’ Gustav added.
Pascal didn’t know if he was supposed to believe them, but he didn’t trust them.
‘Where are you taking us?’ Olivier asked.
‘Our camp is close,’ Seb replied. ‘You hungry?’
Pascal nodded in spite of himself and despite a doubtful look from Olivier.
‘Then you shall eat,’ said Seb. ‘And drink. And sleep.’
They continued in silence, until the forest cover thinned and finally broke away. The shock of finding themselves in broad daylight again after so many hours in darkness made Pascal recoil, his eyes unable to adjust. The heat was suffocating. Then he saw village huts ahead of them and his heart skipped a beat in the hope of finding friendly faces there.
The village, however, was empty.
Seb and Gustav led them to one of the houses, ordered them to sit down and brought them bowls of cold maize soup. Pascal checked that Olivier was eating before he too started to eat. Then he wolfed the soup down, even though it was thin and tasteless. He glanced up to catch Seb smirking at them, which made him feel awkward and powerless.
‘Good, eh?’ Seb said. ‘Nice of someone to leave a pan of soup behind when they ran away. Sorry if it’s gone cold.’
‘What are you going to do with us?’ Olivier asked.
‘I told you. Here, drink this and then you’ll be ready for a good sleep.’ He held a beaker out to each of them.
‘You know that’s not what I meant,’ said Olivier.
Gustav glared at him and growled, ‘You ask too many questions. We don’t like kids who ask questions.’
‘Drink,’ Seb repeated. ‘You don’t want to go upsetting Gustav. He’s got a very short fuse.’
Pascal and Olivier took the drink they were offered. It tasted like some sort of fruit juice, Pascal thought, but he wasn’t sure what. He drank thirstily nevertheless. Seb then pointed to the beds and told them to lie down. Olivier protested that he wasn’t tired and didn’t want to go to sleep.
‘It’s not even dark yet,’ he said.
‘It will be when I close this door,’ Seb snorted. He went out, closed the door and locked it behind him.
‘Pig,’ Olivier called after him, but without any intensity.
Pascal fought to keep his eyes open in the blackness. ‘What do you think they’re going to do with us?’ he whispered. His voice sounded strange to him, as if it were travelling through a long tunnel.
There was no reply.
Chapter 17
It was raining the next morning. The sky was sombre in its dark-grey blanket, matched by the mood of the boys as they set off into the plantation. Nothing dampened their spirits more than working when it was wet. Everything was harder then. The machetes and cutting tools slipped dangerously in their hands. The sacks in which they collected the pods soaked up water and, added to the weight of the pods, rubbed their shoulders raw. Their sodden clothes chafed their skin.
Pascal and Tiene were ordered to fill sacks and carry them to the edge of the field. Kojo was sent to the field to split open pods, much to his dismay.
‘I’ll have Mr Piggy on my back again,’ he grumbled. ‘And my hands are already so covered in blisters I won’t be able to hold on to the machete.’
‘Hopefully you’ll let go of it and it’ll wing its way towards Pigface,’ grinned
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