Read Crow Boy for Free Online

for her body. It was covered by an odd little frilly hat and from her mouth jutted a white clay pipe that was puffing out great clouds of fragrant smoke. Her steely grey eyes were flicking restlessly around the kitchen while she uttered terse instructions to the children all around her.
    â€˜Come along, Cameron, it would be nice to have the soup on the boil some time this century! Alison, put more effort into that mopping; I want to see ma face in it when you’ve finished. Ach, girl, you’ll no’ get anywhere like that; use a bit of elbow grease, for goodness sake!’ She noticed Morag’s approach and gave her a long-suffering look. ‘Oh, you’re back at last; I thought perhaps you’d left the country.’ She pulled the pipe from her mouth and poked the stem of it amongst the sorry collection of vegetables in the girl’s basket. ‘Is this the best you could get?’ she muttered. ‘It all looks worm-eaten. It’s barely fit for the pigs.’
    Morag nodded. ‘Mr Hamilton said he’ll no’ give us anything better until you’ve settled his account in full,’ she explained.
    â€˜Is that a fact?’ Missie Grierson looked annoyed. ‘The brass neck of that man! He knows I’m good for it; why must he vex me like this? You gave him the two shillings towards what we owe him?’
    â€˜Aye. He made me drop it into a cup of vinegar and he counted to ten before he took it out again. He said it was protection against the contagion.’
    â€˜Is that right?’ Missie Grierson grunted. ‘Where do they get these notions?’ she muttered. She noticed Tom for the first time and returned her pipe to her mouth while she studied him in detail. She didn’t seem to care much for what she was looking at. ‘What’ve we got here?’ she asked doubtfully.
    â€˜Oh, this is . . .’ Morag stared at Tom blankly. ‘I don’t believe you told me your name,’ she said.
    â€˜It’s Tom. Tom Afflick.’ Tom held out his hand to shake, as he’d been taught to do when first meeting somebody, but Missie Grierson just looked at the hand, as though it wasn’t clean enough for her liking. ‘What’ve I told you about bringing home waifs and strays?’ she snarled at Morag. ‘Even ones dressed in fancy red jackets.’
    â€˜I didn’t bring him,’ protested Morag. ‘He followed me.’
    â€˜Did he indeed?’ Missie Grierson returned her attention to Tom. ‘If you’re selling something, I’m not interested – unless, of course, it’s tobacco. I can always use tobacco.’
    â€˜I’m not selling anything,’ Tom assured her.
    â€˜In that case, I’ll not detain ye a moment longer. Kindly close the door on your way out.’
    There was a silence then, while Tom stood there unsure of what to do. He looked at Morag, seeking support and, after a pause she spoke up on his behalf.
    â€˜But, Missie Grierson, Tom tells me he’s a sort of orphan.’
    â€˜Is that so?’ Missie Grierson studied Tom with a ‘seen it all before’ expression on her ruddy face. ‘What’s a ‘sort-of’ orphan exactly?’
    Tom frowned. ‘It’s complicated,’ he said.
    â€˜Try me,’ suggested Missie Grierson. ‘Would that be you’ve ‘sort of’ got parents and you’ve ‘sort of’ got a home? That kind of thing?’
    â€˜Well . . .’ Tom racked his brains to try and think of something he might say that didn’t sound crazy but in the end, decided he had no option but to tell the truth. ‘See, I was on this school trip to Mary King’s Close . . .’
    â€˜You go to school?’ interrupted Missie Grierson. She seemed suddenly a lot more interested.
    â€˜Er . . . yes, of course,’ said Tom.
    â€˜Does that mean you can read?’
    Tom shrugged. ‘Sure,’ he