SMITH
IV
Supper was both a delight and ordeal. It was a delight because he was sitting opposite a pretty girl who looked at him in a manner which suggested she was not entirely ill-disposed towards him. It was an ordeal because Uncle Galt had stopped even trying to keep a smirk off his face; and his father was almost as bad.
It was Dav's mother who did most of the talking. That at least was normal. When they had no guests she'd keep up a virtual monologue about doings in various parts of the village, to which her husband would respond, "Really, dear; what happened then, dear; I would never have guessed that, dear…" at suitable intervals. This evening, however, Dav's mother questioned the red-headed girl. It wasn't exactly an interrogation, but it did seem to Dav that Sonja was being sounded out in some way. Whatever; at least it meant that he didn't need to come up with a constant stream of witty things to say.
Sonja answered all the questions politely and with patience. Yes, she was from Hyrkania. She'd been brought up on a farm. No, she had no family living (she was a bit vague on the reasons for this, and Dav's mother didn't press the point). Her clothes? Well, she'd had two older brothers and times had been hard, sometimes. No, she didn't really know where she was headed; something would turn up.
Each face round the table expressed the thought, "Perhaps it just has," though with varying degrees of seriousness. No mention was made of the long bundle Sonja carried with her, and which she'd left propped unobtrusively by the door.
Finally, Dav broached the subject he'd been trying to steel himself to mention. "Father? You know we're not too busy at the moment -"
"Alright, but just half a day."
"What?"
"You were about to ask if you could have tomorrow off so that you could show Sonja some of the country around here."
"Er, yes; but how..?"
"One day, boy, you'll realise that your father isn't a complete fool. Tomorrow morning old Conig will be in. His plough-horse needs shoeing. You can help me with that. Then you can do what you like with the afternoon. I suggest you try the waterfall up in the West Woods."
"Er, why?" Dav asked.
"Because that's where I took your mother."
"Yes, and his knees knocked all the way there."
Dav blushed crimson. Surely has parents hadn't – well, technically they must've done, he supposed – but really. He stole a glance at Sonja; she was smiling broadly. Dav managed to turn an even brighter red.
After supper Dav's father and Uncle Galt lit their pipes, whilst Dav's mother bustled in the kitchen. Dav smiled at Sonja, trying desperately to think of something to say. Their conversation was a form of torture. Flirting with a girl was one thing. Doing so in front of one's parents was quite another. There was a tremor in his right leg, and more than once he stumbled over his words.
The worst part was that Sonja seemed to get the joke. There was certainly a strange smile on her face; perhaps she enjoyed teasing boys. On the other hand, she seemed happy to talk to him. She had an odd habit of breaking eye-contact every now and then, and staring at the table for a bit. At first, Dave thought this was because she was shy; but he soon rejected this idea. However demure her behaviour, it was plain that Sonja had a core of steel.
And she liked him. Dav was sure that Sonja liked him. He laid his hand flat on the table, a few inches from Sonja's. He waited. Sonja moved her hand forward. Their fingers touched; their eyes spoke to each other…
"Right, young lady," said Dav's mother. Dav and Sonja each gave a guilty start, but Dav's mother gave no sign that she'd noticed. "I've made up a bed for you in the kitchen," she said. "It's not much, I'm afraid, but it's warm and dry. And in the morning, whilst these men-folk are busy in the forge, you can help me with the chores. I suppose you know how to use a broom?"
