Read Online Hymn From A Village by Nigel Bird - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Nigel Bird
Ads: Link
stupid, but you can ask Davy and Gran if you like. I couldn’t hear the sea or the birds and it was creepy, then there was music, soft at first, then louder and louder. It was like a choir in church. It was all high voices and ladies singing and it was the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. There weren’t any words, just tunes. Davy held my hand tightly and then the sound was suddenly the wind again. Just like that.
We looked at each other then sprinted over to Gran. Davy was first and grabbed onto one leg, and I got the other. He was telling her about the music and I joined in until she couldn’t tell who was saying what, so we had to start again one at a time. He’d heard the same as me.
She went quiet for a moment and said, just like it was nothing important,
“That’ll be bad news at sea; someone won’t be making it to supper tonight.” She looked up, touched her forehead and shoulders and chest and said something Gaelic.
“I heard it once when I was a girl a long time ago. My mother heard it too. Like the sound of heaven itself, and yet it was a horrible thing that happened when it came to me. Two boats collided. Full of men they were - fathers, husbands, brothers – none of them seen again.” It sounded a bit like the start to one of her fairytales, but she didn’t take it any further.
“Now don’t you worry, there’s nothing to be done. Let’s get this bag filled up,” she said, and so we did.
The bags were heavy, but we managed to drag them to the pile.
I couldn’t believe what was there: lobster pots, a bicycle, tubes, bottles, netting, a doll’s arm, crates and rope. The twins had brought a bag of seaweed even though the man at the start had told us that seaweed wasn’t rubbish, so that couldn’t count for the competition.
Angus got to light the bonfire. He’d found a whole carpet, but he didn’t carry it back himself so I don’t think he should have been the winner.
Mum hadn’t arrived. Now it was later and I wanted her to be there.
It turned into a party. There were guitars, fiddles and songs. The people who weren’t playing were mostly dancing. The only ones who didn’t look happy were the twins, because they’d had a fight, and Gran. She was gazing into the flames, the light seeming to make her look strangely old and tired. I guess she is pretty old, really.
Eventually we had to go because my eyes wouldn’t stay open. The music could be heard from the cottage till we shut the door behind us.
She wasn’t in bed. It was the first thing we did, go and see if she was better.
I cried and Davy told me to stop being a baby, but I think he was nearly crying too, so Gran made us hot chocolate. We got into Mum’s bed, wrapped ourselves up in the blankets and she told us cheery stories until I fell asleep.
I had a funny dream. I walked down to the sea and could hear the church music again. I could see my mother sitting in the things we’d collected, except the bicycle was like brand-new. She was staring again and brushing her hair and we smiled at each other for ages.
When I woke up I tried to keep that picture in my mind and when it faded I pulled my knees up and gave myself a huge hug.
You Dirty Rat
T he guns behind us fell silent for the first time in two days.
Their constant pounding had kept us awake. Twisted our minds. We hated our artillery almost as much as we hated Fritz. Nevertheless, soon as peace descended, I wanted the roars to return.
Stopping the barrage like that we might as well have sent a telegram to the Germans - ‘We’re coming to get you’. In case they missed it, smoke-signals from a trench-line of soldiers would have got the message across.
Stared hard and stood our ground until I got bored. I tore off a corner of my sandwich and tossed it over. It picked it up and went at the stale wedge like a teenage boy at a whore.
“Hungry, eh?” I asked.
There wasn’t time for it to reply. A boot slammed into its head. Knocked the bread into
We looked at each other then sprinted over to Gran. Davy was first and grabbed onto one leg, and I got the other. He was telling her about the music and I joined in until she couldn’t tell who was saying what, so we had to start again one at a time. He’d heard the same as me.
She went quiet for a moment and said, just like it was nothing important,
“That’ll be bad news at sea; someone won’t be making it to supper tonight.” She looked up, touched her forehead and shoulders and chest and said something Gaelic.
“I heard it once when I was a girl a long time ago. My mother heard it too. Like the sound of heaven itself, and yet it was a horrible thing that happened when it came to me. Two boats collided. Full of men they were - fathers, husbands, brothers – none of them seen again.” It sounded a bit like the start to one of her fairytales, but she didn’t take it any further.
“Now don’t you worry, there’s nothing to be done. Let’s get this bag filled up,” she said, and so we did.
The bags were heavy, but we managed to drag them to the pile.
I couldn’t believe what was there: lobster pots, a bicycle, tubes, bottles, netting, a doll’s arm, crates and rope. The twins had brought a bag of seaweed even though the man at the start had told us that seaweed wasn’t rubbish, so that couldn’t count for the competition.
Angus got to light the bonfire. He’d found a whole carpet, but he didn’t carry it back himself so I don’t think he should have been the winner.
Mum hadn’t arrived. Now it was later and I wanted her to be there.
It turned into a party. There were guitars, fiddles and songs. The people who weren’t playing were mostly dancing. The only ones who didn’t look happy were the twins, because they’d had a fight, and Gran. She was gazing into the flames, the light seeming to make her look strangely old and tired. I guess she is pretty old, really.
Eventually we had to go because my eyes wouldn’t stay open. The music could be heard from the cottage till we shut the door behind us.
She wasn’t in bed. It was the first thing we did, go and see if she was better.
I cried and Davy told me to stop being a baby, but I think he was nearly crying too, so Gran made us hot chocolate. We got into Mum’s bed, wrapped ourselves up in the blankets and she told us cheery stories until I fell asleep.
I had a funny dream. I walked down to the sea and could hear the church music again. I could see my mother sitting in the things we’d collected, except the bicycle was like brand-new. She was staring again and brushing her hair and we smiled at each other for ages.
When I woke up I tried to keep that picture in my mind and when it faded I pulled my knees up and gave myself a huge hug.
You Dirty Rat
T he guns behind us fell silent for the first time in two days.
Their constant pounding had kept us awake. Twisted our minds. We hated our artillery almost as much as we hated Fritz. Nevertheless, soon as peace descended, I wanted the roars to return.
Stopping the barrage like that we might as well have sent a telegram to the Germans - ‘We’re coming to get you’. In case they missed it, smoke-signals from a trench-line of soldiers would have got the message across.
Stared hard and stood our ground until I got bored. I tore off a corner of my sandwich and tossed it over. It picked it up and went at the stale wedge like a teenage boy at a whore.
“Hungry, eh?” I asked.
There wasn’t time for it to reply. A boot slammed into its head. Knocked the bread into
Similar Books
