I woke early in our hut, as Mother trod meekly around me. She moved towards the fire where she boiled a billycan, keeping quiet so as not to wake my father, or so I thought.
“I will heat some cuts of bread,” said Mother. “You may have an egg this morning, Myko. One of our own eggs, there is no brightness like the yellow of a farm-lain egg.”
Gazing around, I noticed my father’s bunk was empty. “Where’s Father?”
“He’s at the station.”
For a moment my mother’s answer confused me, and then I remembered. “Of course, the dipping.”
Mother stepped back from the fireside. She rubbed her hands on her apron as she walked towards me. “Are you all right, Myko?”
“Yes, I’m fine.”
She looked at me cautiously. The moment stretched between us and then she returned to the fireside to prepare our food.
