And here is the fourth extract of As Winter Came and Went! This time it is taken from the beginning of chapter 2 (so chronologically it is situated before extract n°2).
Please note that this is not necessarily the final version, since I am still in the process of revising my manuscript.
Feel free to comment and let me know if you like or dislike it, what you think work or doesn’t work, and if this taster makes you want to read the rest of the book!
Extract from the beginning of chapter 2
He has been sitting there for ages since he alighted from the boat. There, on the shingles, at the foot of a wall weathered and stained by the slime of seaweed. The water is green and dirty, and the foam yellow.
Algae everywhere, brown stains on the surface. Water that cannot breathe; the waves are choked, spluttering foam. It is clearer away from the shore, clearer where the sea is deeper and the currents carry the waste from the harbour further along the coast.
I have been sitting there for ages. Looking at the sea, losing myself in the sea. I don’t want to go back, not yet, to the noise and the bustling life behind me on the cobbled streets of the harbour. Back to the world I left more than two years ago.
The tide is low; wet pebbles where I’m sitting. Wet, cold feet too. I’m not used to that cold anymore. It was cold at nights but not like this, not so damp…It was dry and cutting and there was the cold of death over me, death which hunted me down as I huddled under rocks and shivered on the sand, praying it would pass by without claiming me. I shivered with the cold, I shivered with the fever and the wound in my belly gnawed at me like a live beast. I prayed, though I had no faith, and the moon looked down at me with her eternal smile. She smiled and claimed me too. She led me away, astray. She smiled and I forgot why I was there. She lured me and tried to rob me of my mind with her silvery charms. I looked at her and thought, I’m back, among the grey hills of my homeland, feeling the grass beneath my feet and the wind on my face, and there is the sound of the sea in the distance. And she smiled in agreement, you’re right, you’re home. Then the sun rose, and it scorched and burnt me to nothingness.
Never again now, will I shield his eyes from the African sun.
A sail on the horizon. Fisherman or smuggler. Bobbing up and down. The sea is restless over there and pitiless. It swallows the sail and spits it out again. Up and down and down.
He closes his eyes. Soft drizzle on his face. The overwhelming smell of seaweed. The wind isn’t strong; heavy clouds darkened the sky. A storm tomorrow?
Footsteps behind him; the pebbles crunch and roll down to the sea. Rolling, rolling, ending with a splash. Footsteps coming, coming, they stop.
“Danny? Danny, it is you!”
Words stick down his throat, he struggles to say something, anything, hello Lizzie, it’s me. Nothing, he stares at her; she has not changed. She sits down besides him. She’ll get her skirt wet. Not that she ever cared about that when they were children, running on the beach, jumping in the waves. Lizzie, unchanged, and him… A hesitation in her voice: is that man my brother? That she should hesitate, of all people.
“Lizzie…” His voice breaks off, strangled by a sob. He wants to cry, unquenchable tears, for the pity in her eyes and that bewildered unrecognition, for Oliver, for the two years he lost, for not being able to go back. But his eyes remain dry as he stares at her, remain dry though he is all broken inside.
She puts her arm round his shoulders as tears roll down her own face.
“I’m so glad you are back, Danny. So glad, and Ma will be overjoyed!” Her voice is soft, with the same sing song lilt as his. “We waited for the boat, as soon as we learnt. We’ve been waiting for you today. We waited at the quay and did not see you. So we asked the captain. I told the others I would search for you.”
“The others?”
“Yes.” She pats her eyes with a tiny lace handkerchief. “Victoria and your friend Andrew Telbury. And Edwin, Captain Wandell. I married Edwin. I married him six months ago. If only you could have been there at the wedding!” Her voice is casual now, they could be in a drawing room, exchanging news. “Come now, Danny.”
They rise, brush away the sand and fragments of seaweed that cling to their clothes. She takes his hand, as when they were children and she would lead him along a path she had discovered in the wood, or on the cliffs. You are my little brother, she used to say, so you must follow me.
The tide is low; wet pebbles where I’m sitting. Wet, cold feet too. I’m not used to that cold anymore. It was cold at nights but not like this, not so damp…It was dry and cutting and there was the cold of death over me, death which hunted me down as I huddled under rocks and shivered on the sand, praying it would pass by without claiming me. I shivered with the cold, I shivered with the fever and the wound in my belly gnawed at me like a live beast. I prayed, though I had no faith, and the moon looked down at me with her eternal smile. She smiled and claimed me too. She led me away, astray. She smiled and I forgot why I was there. She lured me and tried to rob me of my mind with her silvery charms. I looked at her and thought, I’m back, among the grey hills of my homeland, feeling the grass beneath my feet and the wind on my face, and there is the sound of the sea in the distance. And she smiled in agreement, you’re right, you’re home. Then the sun rose, and it scorched and burnt me to nothingness.
Never again now, will I shield his eyes from the African sun.
A sail on the horizon. Fisherman or smuggler. Bobbing up and down. The sea is restless over there and pitiless. It swallows the sail and spits it out again. Up and down and down.
He closes his eyes. Soft drizzle on his face. The overwhelming smell of seaweed. The wind isn’t strong; heavy clouds darkened the sky. A storm tomorrow?
Footsteps behind him; the pebbles crunch and roll down to the sea. Rolling, rolling, ending with a splash. Footsteps coming, coming, they stop.
“Danny? Danny, it is you!”
Words stick down his throat, he struggles to say something, anything, hello Lizzie, it’s me. Nothing, he stares at her; she has not changed. She sits down besides him. She’ll get her skirt wet. Not that she ever cared about that when they were children, running on the beach, jumping in the waves. Lizzie, unchanged, and him… A hesitation in her voice: is that man my brother? That she should hesitate, of all people.
“Lizzie…” His voice breaks off, strangled by a sob. He wants to cry, unquenchable tears, for the pity in her eyes and that bewildered unrecognition, for Oliver, for the two years he lost, for not being able to go back. But his eyes remain dry as he stares at her, remain dry though he is all broken inside.
She puts her arm round his shoulders as tears roll down her own face.
“I’m so glad you are back, Danny. So glad, and Ma will be overjoyed!” Her voice is soft, with the same sing song lilt as his. “We waited for the boat, as soon as we learnt. We’ve been waiting for you today. We waited at the quay and did not see you. So we asked the captain. I told the others I would search for you.”
“The others?”
“Yes.” She pats her eyes with a tiny lace handkerchief. “Victoria and your friend Andrew Telbury. And Edwin, Captain Wandell. I married Edwin. I married him six months ago. If only you could have been there at the wedding!” Her voice is casual now, they could be in a drawing room, exchanging news. “Come now, Danny.”
They rise, brush away the sand and fragments of seaweed that cling to their clothes. She takes his hand, as when they were children and she would lead him along a path she had discovered in the wood, or on the cliffs. You are my little brother, she used to say, so you must follow me.
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