![]() The stranger turns his head to look behind, wants to hide again. He cowers as he emerges from his hideout. He can hear something rooting around in the corner. Is it a shadow moving by the wall? A creature in the night? And then something changes in the garden. The milk, he can see it’s less now than before. And from the upstairs back window, he watches. And he can hear the faint hum of what? Electric? A wire trembling up above. Is it behind the ivy on the wall? Is it among the branches of the tree? He listens for a sound. He looks for the stranger’s hiding place. And he’s prepared the milk for him, the supper. Jonno knows he’s there because he’s brought him to the garden. He takes a step away, another, to make room for the stranger. It gushes to the top, the brim – a pool of swirling white. The liquid’s hot – the steam circles his hand – it’s hot, but it won’t scald.Īnd he pours the bubbling milk into the hole. It hangs loosely on his bones, scratches against his neck. He’s put his father’s coat on against the freeze. And there’s no light in the kitchen window. He turns and slopes towards the house, along the gravel path – the way it pricks his feet, he likes it. How far to go? He gets down on all fours and peers into the hole. He thrusts the spade again, into the lumpen earth, levers it up, spills it out. The approach, the way to the hole, he has to make it smooth. He wants to make the surface flat again, like before. He pats each lump down, each knot of earth. ![]() It sings out as it slices through the clay, as it strikes a stone.Ī half smile crumples his face. It’s sheltered there – in the shadow of the yew. He knows where he’s going to make the hole, the size of it, the distance down. He’s worked as an actor and lives in London. He’s studying for an MA in Creative Writing at Goldsmiths. Since then his work has featured in journals such as Dream Catcher, Gravel, Brittle Star, Lighthouse and The Incubator. Hannaway’s first story appeared in Litro Online in 2014.
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