Taken Away Read Online Free PDF

sleeping brother in the shadows of the bunk above mine. Car lights occasionally travelled across the walls, sending crosshatched slashes of shadow from the apple trees, and hazy rivers of reflection from the rain-soaked windows. Each intrusion of light sent a flare across the mirror glass, and the bunk would leap into focus for a moment before the car passed on.
    Despite myself, I began to drift off. Just before I fell asleep, another set of beams strobed across the mirror, making me jump but not quite waking me. As I slipped under I heard Dom whisper, loud and clear as though he was calling warily into the room, hoping for but not expecting an answer.
    â€˜Lorry?’ he whispered. ‘Lorry? Are you still there?’

THE AULD DRUNK
    THE FIRST THING that leapt to my mind the next morning was FOOD. I went from deeply asleep to mindlessly starving all in one go. I was so thoroughly hollowed out that it felt like someone had gutted me in my sleep. I lurched out of my bed before I knew I was conscious, and was out of the room and following the smell of bacon rashers down the stairs before my eyes had even opened.
    Dom and I flanked each other into the kitchen and launched ourselves at the table like wolves. I hadn’t noticed him following me, and even if I had, I wouldn’t have bloody cared. I was solely focused on getting something down my gullet. We paid absolutely no heed to the rest of the world, our attention centred on the six slices of batch bread that we buttered one after the other and swallowed in a compulsive, ravenous gorge. We paused at the sight of the suddenly empty bread plate and turned to scan the room, our hands opening and closing, ready to pounce on anything edible.
    Dad regarded us dryly from the cooker. A grill of rashers sizzled in his hand; a pan of eggs were frying on the hob. ‘Bit hungry are we, lads?’ I made a move towards the rashers and he turned slightly, shielding them from me. ‘Sit down,’ he said, the way you would with a dog you weren’t sure of.
    We sat, our eyes glued to the food. Dad deposited rashers and eggs and fat, sizzling sausages onto our plates. We were barely containing ourselves, our eyes devouring the food before it left the pan. He refilled the bread plate, poured us all mugs of milky tea and, finally, sat down himself.
    As soon as Dad picked up his knife and fork, Dom and I dived in. I lost track of everything but shovelling food into my gob and banging back cup after cup of tea. It was only after I had wiped up the last smear of egg yolk with the last hard-won crust of bread and was looking around hopefully for a few remaining scraps that I realised exactly how much nosh I’d packed away. I was stuffed . I was crammed with food. My belly felt like a perfectly round football straining against my pyjamas. At the same time, I wanted more.
    Dom was sitting very still, his hands flat on the table, his jaw working slightly as he stared at Dad’s plate. I followed his gaze and had to swallow a surge of saliva at the sight of Dad’s half-eaten breakfast.
    Dad hunched protectively over his food. ‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph,’ he muttered. ‘It must be the sea air.’ He pulled the plate closer to him. ‘Don’t suppose either of you gannets heard a word I just said to you?’ We looked blankly at him and he rolled his eyes. ‘I said your mam and Dee are still asleep, don’t wake them. Dee had a bad night and your mam was walking the floor with her.’
    That snapped me out of my food-induced trance long enough to ask, ‘What’s wrong with her? Is she sick?’
    Dad shook his head and stuck a mass of fried bread and egg into his gob. Dom followed the food with his eyes. His mouth opened with Dad’s, his jaw worked in little chewing movements as Dad ate. Dad eyed him as he answered me. ‘I think she’s just out of sorts because of the move,’ he said. He swirled a bit of rasher in