BooksBarbecue
Back The Black Earth Save as PDF
Chapters (56)
  1. Cover
  2. THE BLACK EARTH
  3. Dedication
  4. Contents
  5. BOOK I
  6. CHAPTER ONE
  7. CHAPTER TWO
  8. CHAPTER THREE
  9. CHAPTER FOUR
  10. CHAPTER FIVE
  11. CHAPTER SIX
  12. CHAPTER SEVEN
  13. BOOK II
  14. CHAPTER EIGHT
  15. CHAPTER NINE
  16. CHAPTER TEN
  17. CHAPTER ELEVEN
  18. CHAPTER TWELVE
  19. CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  20. CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  21. CHAPTER FIFTEEN
  22. CHAPTER SIXTEEN
  23. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
  24. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
  25. CHAPTER NINETEEN
  26. CHAPTER TWENTY
  27. BOOK III
  28. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
  29. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
  30. CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
  31. CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
  32. CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
  33. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
  34. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
  35. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
  36. CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
  37. CHAPTER THIRTY
  38. CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
  39. CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
  40. CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
  41. CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
  42. BOOK IV
  43. CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
  44. CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
  45. CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
  46. CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
  47. CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
  48. CHAPTER FORTY
  49. CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
  50. CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
  51. CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
  52. CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
  53. CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
  54. About the Author
  55. By Philip Kazan
  56. Copyright

Something I wanted to put in the last letter but ran out of time: I was invited out to dinner with my father and his mistress – I suppose she’s his mistress, as she lives with him but he’s still married to my mother. Normally I would have wriggled out of it but I hadn’t seen the old man for some time and I decided to go along. We went to some dreadfully – and dreadful – posh place in Mayfair. Mrs Leeds is a genuinely ghastly woman and ordinarily she dominates things, but I felt, in spite of the surroundings and the proximity of La Leeds, that Dad was making an effort to be, well, nice. We actually had a conversation. At the end of the meal he somehow contrived to get rid of Mrs Leeds and we ended up at the bar, drinking whisky and just talking. He wanted to know about the war, but as a soldier, and he was fascinated by the minutiae (which are unbelievably dull) of anti-tank gunnery. We ended up drawing diagrams and arcs, fields of fire and falls of shot, in spilt water on the bar. When Mrs Leeds came to find him, he hugged me, rather stiffly but still a hug, as we said goodbye. I left not knowing quite what to make of it all. Now he’s taken to writing me rather sweet letters.

Zoë, here we are again, under the same sunlight, but only a thousand miles apart. I’m whittling the distance away, bit by bit, mile by mile. That’s why I’ve ignored your orders to be careful, my love. I’ll only get closer to you by pushing. Pushing away at the bloody enemy, helping to push him right out of our lives. Maybe next time I write, I’ll be a few miles closer. I can’t wait. I love you.

Tom

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Near Foggia, September 1943

Dearest Zoë,

I’m writing this in Italy. Italy! I’ve always wanted to come here, ever since I first saw Botticelli’s Venus in a book. Venus, the lady on the scallop shell, bobbing ashore in all her naked glory. Now that I come to think of it, doesn’t Niko have a repro of her pinned to the lavatory door at the Cordelio? And now I’m wondering whether the Cordelio is still open. Still standing, even. God, I hope it is. I’d hate to think of the world without the Cordelio.