Paupers Graveyard Read Online Free PDF

answer.’
    â€˜There’s nothing wrong, Da. Black Jack just let me finish early, that’s all.’
    He watched in relief as his father returned the stick to its rightful place. His brothers had been looking on, ashen-faced, and Rose’s lower lip was trembling. They had all felt the sting of the stick in the past. Brushing past them, their father slumped into his chair and sat gazing glumly into the fire. Their mother, trying to lighten the mood, chatted gaily as she checked the potatoes, sticking a fork in to see if they were soft enough to eat. Once she was happy, so were her children. She carried the pot outside and, covering the top with a piece of sacking, tilted it to one side to allow the water to drain off. The pot was placed back over the fire for a few minutes, to let the potatoes dry, and the piece of sacking, steaming from the boiling water, was held in front. When it was dry, she placed it in the centre of the table and upturned the pot, allowing a mountain of potatoes to appear. Some tumbled and rolled, and the children laughed, as their mother and Timmy tried to stop them from falling onto the dirt floor.
    From a small cupboard she took a covered dish. This, like the cups, was chipped and the flowers on it faded, but it was still her pride and joy, given to her by her mother when the flowers were still bright blue. The same colour as your eyes, her mother had said, as she kissed her goodbye on her wedding day.
    She had been fifteen when she married Pat, and now, almost fifteen years later, she was faded, like the bowl. Sometimes she felt as though she had been alive forever. Lifting the lid, she carefully spooned a piece of dried fish onto her husband’s plate. His large hand covered hers.
    â€˜Take a bit for yourself.’
    â€˜I have no appetite, Pat. I’ll save it for tomorrow.’
    â€˜Eat it now, you’re skin and bone as it is.’
    She had no choice but to obey, and the children watched her trembling hand spoon out a small piece of the fish and replace the lid.
    â€˜Eat,’ she nodded at the children, and Timmy picked up a knife and began to peel the potatoes for Tom and Rose. His father and Peter ate them skin and all, but his mother and the younger ones had no stomach for that. The skins did not go to waste though, because they went to feed Nelly, their pig. From a churn his mother scooped up buttermilk, pouring it into each of the cups and bowls. As always, she took the least, and Timmy watched her picking at the piece of fish, pulling it apart, checking for bones. He knew what was coming next, so he turned to his father and started to talk.
    â€˜The new master came into the stables today.’
    â€˜Did he indeed?’ His father was interested. ‘They say he’s not a patch on his brother, though he was a hard enough man, God knows. Not that it matters to us,’ he snorted. ‘He’ll do little enough to help here.’
    Now that Timmy had started his father off about the changes that needed to be made, it allowed his mother some free rein. He watched as she studied her husband, and when she was sure he wasn’t looking, she took bits of the flaked fish in her fingers and fed them to Rose and Tom. They opened and closed their mouths soundlessly, reminding Timmy of the fledglings in the trees beside the cabin. He would have loved some of the dried fish and, licking his lips, he tasted the salt from the potatoes and pretended it was from the fish.
    Peter watched each mouthful, his eyes as big as saucers. Timmy and Peter knew that the younger ones needed the food more than they did, but it would have been nice to taste it, just this once. His mother caught his eye and winked, he winked back, glad to be sharing a secret with her. They had outwitted his father who was now in full flow, waving his knife in the air and sending bits of potato flying into his hair. Soon it looked as though it had snowed on his head, and she shook her head in