A Firm Rubbing

That afternoon, on the school’s roof, young Thom hammered firmly at some last nails as he replaced a patch of broken tiles. Each nail seemed to resist more and more, but young Thom remained determined. With each hit he felt the roof trembling under his legs. When he swung his hammer right on his thumb, he cried out loud to the sky. In reply a loud roar announced an approaching thunderstorm. Young Thom looked up to the dark grey threat. With yet another patch to go, he hurried to seal the roof as the first raindrops hit his shoulders. The last tile was in place just before all hell broke loose. Young Thom carefully positioned himself so he could slowly lower himself down on the wet and slippery roof. Suddenly, he heard the galloping of a horse down below. A cart with two men on it hastily ran past the schoolhouse. Young Thom recognized the bloodstained aprons. As they moved past he could see in the back of the cart a rope, some big knives and an axe. Young Thom knew the men were off for a good hour’s work. This was his chance and so he perilously slid down the roof and further down the ladder. As he ran through the village, the streets had already turned into mud streams. The butcher’s house was located on the hillside of the village. Pink coloured water ran down from the sloping street. In front of the butcher’s house a table and some tools were getting washed by the rain. Young Thom knocked tree times hard on the door and waited. All houses in the village down below were blurred by gray curtains of heavy rain - not a single soul was to be seen.
The door was opened by a worried butcher’s daughter. She saw young Thom standing there with his white shirt soaking wet and his red curly hear dripping down his face and could not resist a little snigger. Without a word, she stepped aside to let him in. The place smelled of iron. Once inside, she handed him a towel that he used to quickly wipe of most of the rain. Not pleased with the result she took the towel in her own hands and gave young Thom an extra firm rubbing – so much that it put him slightly off balance. She carefully examined her work, pushed away the hair in front of young Thom’s eyes and then offered him to sit down at a working table: a solid wooden construction, partially covered with bones and a couple of pigs’ ears and feet. With a swift move of her arm she pushed it all away and rested her elbow on the table.
Her name was Martha.

Next : The Intruders