Birdsong

by Sebastian Faulks

‘Well, it was … difficult. He didn’t speak for two years after the war.’

And Grand’mère said it was two years of silence. She says she can remember when he first spoke again. It was one morning. He quite suddenly stood up at the breakfast table and smiled. He said, “We’re going to the theatre in London tonight. We’ll take the train at lunchtime.” I couldn’t believe my ears. I was only ten years old.’

She could not quite believe that she and Robert had created an autonomous human life from nothing.

Then the pain receded. It drifted away and left her feeling calm and oddly powerful.

Although he was calm, he felt his life had entered a brief period over which he would have no control; it was as though it was on railway tracks, under its own momentum. He would be tested.

He wondered what it must be like to be living a normal life, not on the edge of death and drama, but calmly asleep with the prospect of breakfast and an ordinary day ahead.

Then Elizabeth opened her eyes, and he saw them fill with a determination he had never seen in any human face before.

Released from the need to be calm, Robert heaved his shoulders up and down and forced out several long, sobbing breaths.