When she has finally gone, he breathes out. How could they do this to him? Such a stupid child, such an illiterate bumpkin.
And she is supposed to take care of him? To do everything that Joseph did? No, no way, never! If she comes back, he will bite her to death.
Did she really sit with him all night, singing to him? Or did he just dream it? Oh well, so what?
No one else wanted to come, or more like no one dared to come, and so they sent that child.
If his father knew about this, then he would, he would… He would never approve. He would throw her out and look for someone else, another Joseph or someone else who was good enough for his son.
Or would he? Would he really be bothered?
Of course he would.
So where has he gone? Why hasn’t he come back?
He always comes home a few times a year, doesn’t he? Edward has lost count – has it been a year already?
Edward turns onto his side, sees the harness in the corner, his walking bars. He has not practised for days, of course, what with everything going on.
And I’m supposed to come all the way back from Japan for that? he can hear his father saying. For a son who doesn’t do his best, who doesn’t even try?
I was ill, he says, defending himself. I nearly died.
Ill? You call that ill? Seven weeks of malaria – now that’s what I call ill. Shaking with fever, red lumps full of pus – that’s what I…
Yes! he shouts. You can stop now. I know! Edward has a headache. And of course he still has not had anything to eat. He should have eaten those disgusting eggs after all.
He lies on his back. He’ll practise tomorrow. First thing tomorrow morning. And this afternoon, a bath – finally!
At least, if she ever comes back, that stupid child.