This time my gaze lingered to observe the burnt skin that stretched across one half of his face and covered it with ridges like furrows on a sandbank when the water has drained away.

After adam’s death everything changed. We used to be no different from other smallholders scraping a poor living from work on the land. Dad would take forestry jobs in the winter and go fishing in the summer. When dad was away adam was in charge. Not mum. Her usual place was a stool next to the workbench. She ate what was left on our plates. It wasn’t that she saw herself as a menial. She did what seemed right to her.

For a while he sat in silence with his eyes fixed on the memory. 13

Dad blamed me for adam’s death. Insisted I could have saved my brother. Because I had a harelip and was hard of hearing I was sent away to a school in örebro where they were supposed to be able to cure both cleft lips and deafness.

How old were you I asked for chronology’s sake.

Ten, almost eleven.

I dressed. Pulled my trousers over the longjohns. My socks and boots had dried. It was still snowing but only lightly. The sun was fighting to get out from behind the massed clouds. It might be a nice day.

A soft light fell on his face. I wanted to touch the burnt skin so that later I could shape the clay to look like it but thought the gesture might be misunderstood.

May I look in the bestroom before I go.

Feel free.

The room looked just as I remembered it. The ceiling was decorated in faded rustic patterns and the timber walls were splatter painted.

Even the chest was still there but not the boots.

The biggest difference was the set of large oil paintings. The canvases had simply been stapled onto the walls. Paintings like stage sets. Fire smoke faces grass sea body parts rubber boots and hands all so skilfully painted the effect was photographic.

Are these yours I asked and he nodded. I paint now and then.

Have you shown them to anyone but no he hadn’t I was the first to see them.

You can paint I told him stunned by what I saw. It affected me so much I had to move on. As I backed out of the room the canvases formed the background to john in the foreground with his damaged face and large head of black hair. 14

I didn’t see only the paintings I saw myself my brother my parents. And there mum came running. Screamed you must do something. Save him. Excited cattle were bellowing.

The horse was neighing kill kill.

John raised his hand meaning bye see you. I did the same. And when I had closed the door behind me I ran until there was no more oxygen to keep me running.

15

TWO