Eighteenth Birthday News

"Perhaps it never got to him."

"No, maybe not. Anyway, his instructions were clear enough. I'll go to town tomorrow and pick up that package, and this weekend we'll give it to you. You are to read it by yourself and then decide if you want anyone else to see it. You can keep it private if you wish."

"Alright." Sounds intriguing.

There's a dairy farm not far up Harbing Road, about a mile from the slaughterhouse. Jack has worked there, haying from time to time. The father is a tall Scottish man, thinning brown hair and a wide bottom lip always wearing a half smile, and he has the usual tall stoop. Jack is friends with the older of two sons, Keith. There is a daughter, the middle child, Agnes. Jean is the youngest.

Jack and the boys are hanging out in the barn loft. It's nice and roomy and dry. An all purpose barn, not just for hay, sort of hollow sounding, with all sorts of nooks and crannies where you can hide. Some pigeons nest in the peaks, and their cooing and chortling adds a peaceful tone. A pleasant place.

Keith is whispering something in Jean's ear. They laugh, and Jean leaves to go to the house.

Keith, "Vick, we're going to play a new game. You'll like it. It's fun."

"Okay. What is it?"

"You'll see. Wait till Jean and Agnes get back."

The two younger ones come climbing up into the loft, and the two brothers exchange covert glances. Jack wonders what's going on here, but waits to see.