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07 Mart 2016, 15:08
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| Çevrimdışı  IF Ticaret Sayısı: (0) | The Way The Pit Works Kitap Özetleri We went on holiday to the seaside every year, the three of us. Mum would wake me up before it got light. Once we were in the car, I'd watch for the dawn through the gaps in the houses. I'd tell myself that the sky only looked grey because it was really still night-time, not because it was cloudy. Some years I was right, but the year I'm thinking of, the year I was nine, the sun didn't appear at all. By eight o'clock we were on the beach, Mum and me sitting on our macs huddled together under a blanket which still smelt of our dog, even though he'd been dead nearly a year. A thin, bad-tempered breeze blew sand into our faces and whipped up under my skirt. Dad was pacing up and down the beach looking for destroyers. I could picture them wading through the sea to smash the houses and caravans and people with their enormous sandalled feet. I suppose I must have been getting fidgety. We couldn't get into our caravan until mid-day, so that was nearly four hours to wait. The beach shops and the amusement arcade didn't open until ten. Mum pulled the rug up over her arms. by Gaye Jee
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