After the Storm by Margaret Graham Page B

picnic for you and Don. What do you think? We’ll ask Grace, she’ll like a picnic.’
    ‘Oh aye, Annie, that’d be …’
    ‘Oh God,’ Don broke in, ‘not old fatty.’
    Annie turned to him. Why could he never be easy? She felt anger growing. He knew she couldn’t stand to hear him start on Grace. She felt hotter as the anger took her over, made words spill out.
    ‘Why d’you have to be so mean?’ she hissed. ‘You know she can’t help being plump; she’s made that way and she’s nice with it an’ all.’
    She strode over the uneven ground in a hurry to reach him, in a hurry to fight him, to make him stop it once and for all. She stood above him, hands clenched, waiting. Georgie reached out and held Tom back as he moved to follow. He was squinting against the sun now that Annie had moved. ‘Stay here with me lad, it’s between them two, I reckon.’ Tom tugged against him but Georgie held firm so he stood and they both watched.
    ‘Look at me Don Manon and stop poring over your bloody money for a minute.’ Annie waited but he ignored her, banging with his hammer at the lead. ‘Don, look at me.’ She moved closer but still he ignored her and a great swamping rage cut out the banging, cut out the sun and she grabbed his hair.
    ‘I’m not bloody Betsy and you’re not me da so don’t start treating me as though you are.’ Her voice was low, her hand clenched his hair tighter.
    Don slapped her hand away, still without looking up. She grabbed his hair again and pulled. ‘Lift your head and look at me,’ she shouted.
    This time his slap caught her leg and she almost went down but did not. She still had his hair and at last his head was forced up as she pulled again. His eyes were watering with the pain, his face was red and sweating and full of anger.
    He lashed out at her leg again, the crack echoed across the allotment. Tom struggled in Georgie’s grasp.
    ‘She’s doing fine bonny lad, she’s all right for now.’ But though his voice was still soft, his eyes were narrowed and alert, and there was a set to his face. His legs were tensed to spring, though he still squatted like the miner he would become.
    ‘I’ll kill him if he hurts her,’ Tom cried, still tugging away.
    ‘You won’t need to Tom, because he won’t hurt her. I won’t let him. I won’t let anyone ever hurt her.’ His voice was still quiet but there was something in it that allowed Tom to relax, to stand and wait.
    Again Annie withstood the slap and tightened her grip. ‘Grace is not fat, she is clever. She is just big for her age – got it. And don’t ever let me hear you say that again, and don’t let her hear you either. You made her cry last time.’ She was speaking slowly, clearly, her face close to his. She could feel his breath on her cheek, see his eyes staring into hers.
    ‘You’re a cruel boy sometimes Don Manon and when you are I don’t like you.’
    She released him and still he said nothing, just glared. As she turned he tripped her. She sprawled on the ground and smiled, she had known he would and she had let him. It made him think he was even but she knew he would not call Grace fat again. She scrambled to her knees and looked at Tom. He would understand that she was all right. He always understood her but would Georgie? Would he think she had been defeated? She looked past Tom to him and he winked.
    ‘For God’s sake sit down and stop causing a draught,’ he said and suddenly laughter played around the group again. The atmosphere was broken and Tom and Don began to bang again.
    Annie sat down shaking inside, upset by the sudden fight. She raised her face, eyes closed towards the beating sun and felt the heaviness of her hair as it dropped on her back. She shook it until it brushed against her shoulder. Forget it she told herself and made the last few moments squeeze into a black box she kept at the back of her mind. She was sheltered from the slight breeze by the blackberry bushes and the allotment