Work in progress...

“Come and have a look at this” he said and opened a door into the night. It was not quite dark. She followed him out onto the steps and stood there for a moment, breathing the foliage scented air. The house was a presence behind her, a dark mass of stagnant time, just watching. He was down the steps already and only now turned to see if she had followed him outside. They were so strange these English boys, such a mix of confidence and fear. Languid in their movements, louche in their poses and yet so fragile the slightest touch could break their spirit. So unlike the determined Austrian boys, neat and tidy even in the midst of brutality. For a moment she thought she would faint away, saw the piggy eyes so close to hers, the lank blonde hair falling across a distorted face. But the house seemed to hold her on her feet and as the cool summer breeze stirred the leaves again she managed to focus on his slight smile. His hair was red and fine.

Loti walked down the steps and out onto the lawn. He was already away, striding ahead of her, fidgeting with something in his fingers. What about the peas? The disastrous silver service incident when she made her mother cry.

"Kinder - sie werden senden Sie uns weg!"

He just laughed and joked about escapees, not the most sensitive of remarks given the circumstances she and her mother found themselves in, but made out of kindness. She remembered him on his knees under the table whilst his mother scoffed and chided, the way he emerged with a handful and wrapped his handkerchief around them. He was kind and so he would be kind. If she could not believe in this then everything was spoiled just as her mother claimed. They could never be happy, never smile or feel good again.

He did have a name, Michael. She had heard other people use his name. Loti followed him across the wide lawn and around the pond, glancing as she passed through the mirrored surface to see the fish circling ghostly below. It was only now that she became aware of the light. Although it was dark the garden was glowing, there was no other way to describe it. She hurried after Michael and saw he was opening the door that led through the red brick wall of the ornamental gardens into the orchard beyond. Where was the moon? The night was clear and cool. She felt dew on the wooden door as she leant against it and it swung aside, creaking on age-old hinges. Michael was standing at the bottom of an apple tree in the middle of the orchard, looking back towards the house. Why had she leant against the door? She could feel the damp material of her nightdress against her skin as she walked over.

“There – look at that!”

Loti turned and followed his gaze. The moon hung in the sky above the house, a hazy harvest moon, wide and full.

“Oh! It’s beautiful...the way it is shining...”

Her English was still so bad she tried to avoid speaking as much as possible. As she spoke Michael smiled and drew himself up slightly, leaning back against the tree, he reached one hand out to grasp a branch and, raising his arm, pointed with the other.

“In fact the moon does not shine at all. We see it shining but that is simply an illusion. Physics, astronomy, mathematics; these disciplines have enabled us to understand that any light that appears to shine from the moon does not. It is in fact reflected. That is to say the light that does indeed shine from the sun, that is emitted from that fiery sphere, strikes the surface of the moon and bounces off it...”

Oh but it does shine she thought. Just look at it hanging there. It was her turn to reach a hand out and grasp a branch of the apple tree. She drew it close and smelled the bark, brushed a leaf across her face. Then she placed her hand around one of the bulging apples and looked at the light shining off its cheek.

“Not quite ripe yet...” said Michael before trailing off.

His cheeks were glowing too. She could sense their colour, even with this strange stage lighting. Loti had never felt quite like this before. Her vision blurred a little then the orchard swam dramatically before coming back into focus. She just happened to be looking at Michael now and could not fail to notice how lovely he was. Where the light struck his red hair it gleamed golden so that she believed for a stunning instant that what she saw before her was not a boy but an angel, haloed and amazing. Her heart beat hard in her chest. Wild thoughts rampaged around her brain. I am going to be sick or faint or maybe this is how you die. She wanted to thank him for this vision but most of all she wanted to speak his name aloud.

“Michael...”

The spell was broken. He stood up straight and drew his back away from the tree. He placed a finger between his stiff collar and his neck and pushed it from side to side. He looked at the ground. Then he glanced for a brief moment towards her but could not look at her face. His whole body contorted, shuddered with embarrassment. Without a word he hurried away, struggling in his haste to unfasten the old door.

Loti had stopped breathing after saying his name. Now she let the rest of the breath escape from her lips as a deep sigh. She began to wander around the orchard, walking up to trees, running her fingers through the leaves and then leaning against them as he had done.

“Michael...” she spoke his name again and smiled. What a funny boy! She was delighted and seduced by his embarrassment.