I maintain the obligatory six feetdistance behind him and again I feel that detachment set in as I am captivatedwith watching the droplets of crimson blood make contact with the snow. He willleave his mark; an offending trail of blood; staining the perfect crisp whitevirgin snow.
As we near the croft, I cannot help butcast my mind to my siblings. Will they be happy with the outcome? (Well Julietknows nothing about our plan so I imagine she will be shocked.) And I am unsurewhat James will think as he said very little when we were plotting it all out.Have I succeeded or have I failed? I set out to cause him injury and I havesucceeded on that count but at first glance it didn’t appear to be as bad as Ihad thought it might be. He was lucky not to have lost the whole thumb or tohave damaged any other fingers. He also escaped unscathed from any debrisflying out of the chute which could’ve easily happened when he unclogged it(since the engine was still running). I felt fairly satisfied I’d seen the planthough with the desired outcome, but would everyone share my point of view?Caroline in particular was baying for his blood, desperate to see him suffer.Understandable, since he had pushed her to the limit, and she was looking forretribution.
He is cradling his hand tenderly like anew-born baby, every so often glancing down at it, clearly still in shock aboutit all. The normally swift walk back to the croft takes us considerably longerthan it should do thanks to the forces of nature. We were being blown this wayand that and enduring driving snow in our face. I am fearful of how he is goingto react when we make it indoors. We reach the croft, and he uses his good handto fling the door wide. He does it with such gusto that it flies back towardsme and I have no choice but to step backwards. The door rattles loudly as thehinges moan and groan when they are activated, such was the force applied. Thisis not looking good; he is clearly fuming.
The only presence in the kitchen is motherand I can see the slam of the door already has her scared witless. Like afrightened rabbit caught in the headlights, she jumps to attention, all wideeyed and fearful about what is to come. I catch sight of her reaction as heenters the room, and she looks genuinely shocked.
“Bert, what happened? Goodness, are youalright?” She rushes to find the first aid box, witnessing the blood beginningto pool at his feet.
“Do I look alright, you daft bitch?! Thisone here is out to get me and make no mistake!” He points towards me. What tosay, what to say? This is going southwards, rapidly. “He had me put both handsdown the chute of that godforsaken snowblower to unblock it with the enginestill running and look; just look at the result would you!” He thrusts hisbloody, torn, and tattered thumb right into her face and she snaps her headback but somehow manages to regain some composure.
“Don’t worry, Bert, we’ll get it bandagedup and stem the flow.” She busies herself with getting dressings and tape fromthe first aid box and meanwhile he turns his attention towards me.
“Well come on then, we are all ears! Whatthe fuck happened out there?! Give me one good reason not to string you upright now!” Again, I have that detached feeling come over me as though if Ileave my body, even for a moment, I can pretend this is not happening. I can bethere witnessing myself from outside of myself. It is at that point I canclearly hear the voices of my siblings. They have my back; they are the voicesof encouragement, of love and support and they help me to formulate a response.
“I am so sorry. It was an accident. Idon’t know how it happened, honestly! The engine was turned off long before youwent in to unblock the chute. The only thing I can think of is that there wasstill torque left in the system after I cut the engine which caused theimpeller to keep spinning.” A stony silence fills the room as he takes in myresponse. The only noise to be heard comes from mother as she expertly tends tohis wounds. I am feeling brave and confident with my response and give myself avirtual pat on the back. Not half bad considering I’d just came up with it onthe spot! The original plan had been for me to cut the engine off completelythen turn it back on, using the excuse that my hand had slipped, but sincethat’s not what happened the rest I was making up as I was going along.
“Aah, smart guy huh? Mary, we have onesmart ass here, do we not? What do you know about ‘torque in the system’ and‘impeller blades’?” he says, mimicking my voice. “Bullshit Thomas! That enginewas never turned off, you knew exactly what you were doing! You meant for thisto happen. In fact, I imagine you were hoping I lost far more than just the tipof my thumb! Look at me boy! LOOK AT ME!” he says menacingly and with such ferocity,I have no option. I stare him straight in the face and we take each other in,weighing each other up and our opposing versions of events.
I am more than aware that whatever I saynext could have a ground-breaking effect. This is pressure like I have neverfelt before. And we are in unchartered waters here as he is on the receivingend for the first time. OK, here goes nothing.
“I cut the engine off, I swear to you. Iam not lying. And you asked me to read the
