Home » Archive » The Knife » Page 4

The Knife

Page 4

Barry Revill

‘Nice day, mum’ I would say, trying to cheer her up a bit, maybe give me a bit of a smile before I go off to school.

‘That’s right, son, it certainly is, somewhere.’

My father came into the kitchen. He stood behind my mother drawing her close to him and muttered something to her about tonight. She pushed him away. He just grinned. And that night, again, there were more screams and more thumping stuff, and I did not like it. I did not know what was going on, but whatever it was, I did not like it. Outside, I could see the trees and their reflections on the wall of my room because the blind was not down and I could see branches moving around and all over the wall. I liked the trees. I liked their movement. I liked the windy nights. I even liked the noise of the high wind as it blew down the side of the house and rattled the fence. I liked all these things.

I saw Joan the next day. I saw her in the afternoon after school. There was deep rumbling in the sky towards the bay. She was in her long chair on her front veranda. She waved to me so I decided to go over.

‘Saw your dad before. Must be home early from work, real early’, she said

‘That’s strange’, I said

'Yes, real strange’, she said.

‘Bet he bashes her up'.

‘Bet he doesn’t, anyway, he only does that stuff at night time’.

Page 4

This edition