The Nature of Blood Read Online Free Page A

his mind. He should show himself. Surely, I am no more hideous to look at than any of the others.
    If Mama had been a more patient woman, it is possible that we might have gone to America. She could have talked quietly to Papa, instead of forever raising her voice and driving Papa into himself. Papa was the brightest of her father's medical students and, upon his graduation, he became a junior partner in her father's practice. It was then that Papa noticed Mama, for Papa was a frequent guest at their dinner table, and her father clearly enjoyed the knowledge and wit of this young man. But having secretly wooed the daughter, Papa was informed that not only would there be stern opposition to a marriage, but his services as a junior partner were no longer required. Papa was devastated, but Mama stood by him and they were married in a quiet ceremony to which neither set of parents were invited. Shortly before Mama's parents died, Mama and Papa were able to move from the small house they were renting into their own four-storey house, with their two daughters and the few pieces of furniture they had managed to buy.
    Mama refused to employ a nanny, and raising her two children became her job. And then, as life deteriorated, she began to insist that they should leave for America, reminding Papa that if they left now they would impose no financial burden on the host country. But Papa was stubborn and Mama, instead of being patient, accused Papa of being typical of his class in his fierce attachment to his possessions. She raised her voice and accused him of cowardice, of not daring to begin again elsewhere, and of being happy to risk the future of his two daughters. This merely infuriated Papa, who could clearly see how impoverished and desperate the situation was becoming, but who refused to be ruled by a spoilt wife. And so he buried his head in his medicine and ignored his wife, and tried to pretend that nothing untoward was happening. But Mama talked incessantly about America, and about how important it was that she put our names on the list at the embassy, and when Papa refused to listen she would shout, and then sometimes scream, but Papa would simply close the door to his study. And then, of course, it was too late.
    I watch Gerry. I stand hidden at the far end of the hut and peer at him through an open window. He is loitering about the place where I usually sit. To begin with, he paced about a little while smoking a hand-rolled cigarette. Now he sits and watches the world go by, occasionally relighting his cigarette and then coughing noisily. Today, the sun is too hot. I am taking shelter, although the smell inside this hut is loathsome. I am not sure what this Gerry seeks. His attention, while flattering, also causes me to worry. I decide that, in future, I will avoid this man as much as possible.
    Tonight, we eat the same soup. It tastes familiar. After this soup I will wash.
    Night falls and I return to my cot. I am cleaner, and my stomach has been satisfied. My bedding has been taken and burnt, so I must sleep on bare boards. There are fewer of us now. It is quiet. The seriously ill have been relocated to a tented hospital, and those of us who remain will not die with any undue clamour. The light from the moon casts a mournful pool on the floor. If only I could bathe my face in the pool, then surely I would emerge healed. I look around at my fellow women. All lie with their eyes open and their bodies broken. But slowly and silently, they are gathering strength. In the darkness, beyond the hut, I hear the sound of a soldier's raised voice. And then a nervous burst of laughter. But these noises aside, this night of freedom is tranquil. I continue to be bewitched by the moonlight on the floor.
    I am awoken by a loud noise. It is bright outside. I realize that I am the only one left in the hut, and that I have actually slept peacefully. The noise outside is becoming louder and more raucous. I leave my cot and walk the few paces