It was already autumn and the ground round the field gate where the horses collected was a foot deep in mud. Lauren could feel her wellingtons in danger of being sucked off. As she was leading a pony out through this quagmire, she caught sight of Luke, a boy who helped out on the farm, struggling to open a shed door. He seemed to be holding something fragile in his hand. She remembered her father had given him the old garden hut as a sanctuary for the various small mammals, birds and insects he often rescued.
Later that evening, after shutting up the chicken, Lauren quietly opened the shed door, closing it behind her. She was surprised to see Luke sitting on an old stool patiently feeding a brown bird with tiny pieces of minced meat. He had fixed a torch on the shelf behind him so he had enough light for the task. The torch threw strange shadows on the wooden walls of the hut and framed Luke and the trembling bird as in a picture. He hardly looked up at Lauren’s entrance but continued his patient efforts to persuade the frightened bird to eat. Lauren gazed into the dark space beyond the circle of light. She could hear strange noises of scurrying feet, fluttering wings and occasional squeaking! Nodding quickly at Luke, still engrossed in his efforts, she slipped quietly through the door.
That night, Lauren asked her father about Luke, the creatures in the old shed and the boy’s silence.
“What’s wrong with him, Dad? He never says a word. It’s quite spooky!”
“There’s nothing wrong with a nice bit of peace and quiet. Most kids talk far too much. Luke’s a great boy. He just can’t speak in a big group or to strangers, people he doesn’t. trust. Apparently, it’s called ‘selective mutism’ in medical books. To me, he’s amazing with animals and we get on like a house on fire.”
With this her father picked up the newspaper. For him the discussion was over.
It was the beginning of the Spring Term, one of those rare February days when the pale winter sun entices early daffodils and crocuses to break through the frosty earth. Lauren sat on the wall at the end of the school playground. She was eating crisps and watching girls practising their shooting with a netball which often got tangled up with junior girls skipping.
Suddenly, she heard shouting and the sounds of fighting on the other side of the wall where there was a patch of rough grass leading down to the boundary fence. Here was a struggling heap of boys who seemed to be intent on kicking someone or something underneath this heaving pile. Elbows and legs were viciously directed at the unseen target!
Loudly, the school bell rang the end of morning break! Boys began to extricate themselves from the tangled heap. Straightening their ties, tucking in their shirts, they ran back to school. Looking back, one boy yelled,” Luke Mortimer, you’re not even a bloody monkey! They can at least open their mouths.”
Lauren looked at Luke, his hair tangled, almost garrotted by his tie, blood dripping from his bruised nose. She jumped down from the wall, but before she could say anything, Luke had clambered over the back fence and run off down the lane.
After school, Lauren was in the long barn which housed the incubators. At this time of year, the goslings were beginning to hatch. Sometimes her father would give the young birds a helping hand by making a small hole in the shell or cracking it slightly. As she looked at the youngsters which had just hatched, Lauren gently put them under a warm lamp to dry off. Hearing footsteps, she turned to see Luke standing behind her.
He was in his usual t-shirt and jeans. His nose looked bruised, but otherwise there was no sign of the fight that morning. He picked up one gosling which seemed unable to stand. Every time it struggled to its webbed feet, its legs gave way. It ended up with its orange legs uselessly splayed beneath it. Cradling the small bird in his hand, Luke reached in his pocket for a ball of string and some old matchsticks. Silently handing the gosling to Lauren, Luke carefully tied a matchstick to each leg. The bird was completely still as if it knew these improvised splints would give it a chance of survival. Lauren saw the smile on Luke’s face as the gosling and his matchsticks walked across the pen to claim a place under the light.
INSTANT NOODLES 