For how long had he tried to forget that day in the barn? Snuggled there among the straw, bale upon bale, balanced almost to the rafters? His mother had told him not to go up there. She’d said there were rats, so when he clambered up the bales he always dragged with him his favourite farm cat, black and soft and kind natured, not like the other cats that ran wild. Mouser, they called her. Uncle said she was the best.
He had lain there stroking Mouser, looking up at the rafters, watching the swallows dive in and out, for what seemed an age. He heard someone come into the barn. It was Uncle Jack. He was mending a piece of machinery at his bench, using that grease gun that looked like a squashed metal teapot. He was humming to himself and Edward was just about to call out to him, proud to be king of the castle, when he saw his mother silhouetted against the door. She was wearing a floral summer dress, belted at the waist, that she had made herself the week before they had travelled down. It was yellow with big red poppies. Edward had thought she looked beautiful in it.
His uncle stopped what he was doing and wiped his hands on an old rag and then, to Edward’s surprise, he put his arms around his mother’s waist. She’d laughed and tried to pull away, but he’d held her, all the time trying to unbuckle his belt. He undid his fly and fumbled inside. Turning her around with one hand, he bent her over the bench. He lifted the hem of her dress, showing her bare white legs, and Edward saw that she wasn’t wearing any underwear. And then he was doing something to her, pushing and thrusting into her. She was groaning out loud, head flung back, teeth bared like a horse.
Edward wanted to shout out – Stop it! Stop hurting her! – but it was as if he was frozen in time. He tried to turn away but he couldn’t. His mother had her elbows on the bench, her hands around the vice and the thought flashed through his mind that he hoped she wasn’t getting oil on her new dress. Suddenly and without warning she screamed out, followed shortly by a loud cry from his uncle. And then silence, except for the faint sound of their breathing as it quietened to nothing. His uncle pulled away from her and Edward saw his penis, pink and slimy. His mother picked up the oily rag from the bench, wiped between her legs and then without another word, turned and walked out of the barn, her yellow dress catching the light as she walked across the yard.
Edward lay there in the straw all afternoon gazing up at the rafters, or watching his uncle working away as if nothing had happened. Had he dreamed it? He clutched his head in his hands and tried to erase image but he couldn’t. Later, he heard his mother calling him from the farmhouse. He watched his uncle wipe his hands on the same rag his mother had used, and leave. He waited a few minutes, then followed.
After that he saw his mother and uncle through different eyes. He noticed new things about them, even in the way they laughed. He looked at his aunt, but she was unchanged, unseeing.
A few days later his uncle called in the vet. He said Meg the mare needed seeing to. The vet brought with him a stamping white stallion in a horsebox. Edward swung on the gate and watched. He saw the stallion mount poor Meg and bite viciously into her mane. His eyes were pulled back and wild and he was foaming at the mouth, his lip curled back revealing brown teeth.
His uncle came to stand beside him, ‘You shouldn’t be watching this, lad. You’ll get me in to trouble with your mother.’
‘What are they doing? Why are you letting that horrible horse hurt Meg? Why don’t you stop it?’
His uncle laughed, ‘You city boys. He’s servicing her.’
Edward frowned, uncomprehending.
‘Giving her a baby,’ his uncle continued, ‘unless a boy and a girl horse do that, they can’t have babies.’
‘Do other animals do it?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Do humans?’
His uncle ruffled his hair. ‘How do you think you got here?’
‘Does my mother want another baby?’
His uncle frowned. ‘How on earth should I know that, lad? That’s between your mother and father.’ He shook his head and walked away.
That week Edward watched his mother closely. He noticed that on the day they were leaving she again sought out her uncle in the barn. Edward crept close and heard again the same animal-like noises.
On the train home Edward sat in the opposite corner to his mother, pretending to read. He hated her. When they arrived at their destination his father was there to meet them and his mother was all smiles. Edward busied himself with the suitcases. He didn’t know how he was ever going to look his father in the eye again.