Added£0.99Add to basket(A short story of 1480 words)
The Engineer's Daughter
Literary
by Sarah Passingham
'A brief study of bitter pride, it's a remarkable example of economical writing, painstaking in its attention to detail.'
Nicholas Royle, Time Out
He watched her cook. Marvelled at her lack of order, her arms flailing, long feet planted, clothes bespattered and askew. Pots and pans teetered high at her elbow. Tomatoes, aubergines, onions and peppers; a rainbow mountain range spilling accidental foothills on the floor. He despaired at her want of skill, that a daughter of his should display such lubberliness.
Completing the task, she slid his plate towards him. He made a backwards movement born of countless lapfuls of steaming food. A slop found his thumb. A cinder of irritation caught, flared and was quashed. He sucked burnt flesh and oregano.
They ate. He listened to the timely tick of Smith’s of Ipswich while she turned the pages of a novel, hissing heat through her teeth. A meal taken, not in silence, but un-conversationally. Her opinions were not honed to his taste; more snatched from the supermarket queue or condensed from the fog of talk-radio...
Nicholas Royle, Time Out
He watched her cook. Marvelled at her lack of order, her arms flailing, long feet planted, clothes bespattered and askew. Pots and pans teetered high at her elbow. Tomatoes, aubergines, onions and peppers; a rainbow mountain range spilling accidental foothills on the floor. He despaired at her want of skill, that a daughter of his should display such lubberliness.
Completing the task, she slid his plate towards him. He made a backwards movement born of countless lapfuls of steaming food. A slop found his thumb. A cinder of irritation caught, flared and was quashed. He sucked burnt flesh and oregano.
They ate. He listened to the timely tick of Smith’s of Ipswich while she turned the pages of a novel, hissing heat through her teeth. A meal taken, not in silence, but un-conversationally. Her opinions were not honed to his taste; more snatched from the supermarket queue or condensed from the fog of talk-radio...