It was early morning and Mr McCracken had seen enough of the 1960s. He had been waiting for the small boat for over an hour, his feet becoming hot as the unseasonable sun bore down on his body. His brother had hoped to leave Carrick at 6, and it was now 9. Mr McCracken was aware of his fear and memory of his brother’s weak swimming in the back of his mind. A goods vehicle passed behind him, crushing the gravel beneath its rubber tyres. The sound panicked him, and he pulled the package, wrapped in used brown paper, tighter to his chest.
Copyright: Hugh Odling-Smee
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