In the morning Thomas opened his eyes and heard a splashing as if someone had turned on a tap. But no one was washing. The boy with an ear that stuck out and freckles who had been sleeping above him that night was standing beside the bunk bed peeing. Thomas blinked; perhaps he was wrong. The boys murmured, laughed at a joke that Thomas hadn’t heard. He pretended to be asleep.
Someone held an alarm clock right against his ear. Thomas threw back the blanket and was going to slip his shoes on. They were wet with the boy’s piss, it was running out over the tongues of the shoes, over the leather and so to the floor, it was trickling through the seams, the boy hadn’t aimed straight and Thomas’s shoes were standing in a puddle. Six eyes were resting on him. He looked up. Get dressed!
There was nothing to be done; Thomas had no other shoes. Got any ciggies? The youngest boy stretched out his hand to Thomas, patted him experimentally down, his jacket, his trouser pockets. With the bunk bed behind him, Thomas couldn’t avoid his hands. What was the boy looking for? Thomas took the packet of cigarettes out of his trouser pocket; the boy snatched it from him.
It was still dark in the stone quarry; they had pickaxes. The water was high in most of the pits, shallow in the later ones, pits had been closed over the last few years as soon as groundwater emerged and rose. The new boy had to show his fins. He was surrounded by the laughter of the apprentices, who had been joined by four other young men. Thomas was the new boy. Show your fins!
Maybe he was a girl, someone suggested, not wanting to undress? Hey, the girlie’s coy! They were crowding round him. Scaredy-cat! Their laughter echoed against Thomas’s ribs. He was not cowardly, he undressed. His wet, stinking shoes, his shirt, his underpants.
The water was soft and cold. The bottom was stony, obviously the bottom of a former quarry. Thomas showed what his fins could do. The water glowed dark blue, he had never seen water like that before. Maybe it was quartzite that gave the water its colour. When he came out of the shallow lake after a few minutes, his shoes were where he had left them. Ten eyes rested on him, no one was laughing.
Where are my clothes?
Clothes, anyone seen any clothes? Seen her dress anywhere? The boy with the sticking-out ear whose name Thomas had not asked, and he was not going to ask it now, stood in front of him, legs planted apart, the pickaxe swinging in his hand. The boys were roaring. They looked around. A little way off, the group leader was patrolling the ridge between lake and quarry, he blew his whistle, they were not to stand idle. The group leader swung his arm: they were all to come over to the stone quarry. Good luck, he called, the miners’ greeting, as if they were miners. Like a monster, the crushing plant towered up among the trees. The young men climbed over the terraced stones, along the rails, and down into the pit. Thomas, naked, clambered after them.
They were to break up the roughly hewn stone into smaller pieces. Thomas would have liked to know the size and shape to which they were to reduce the stones. He couldn’t see whether the others knew. For the first few hours Thomas hacked away at the stones, still naked; he was freezing, but he wasn’t going to beg. Day was near dawning. A small stone hit his back, a larger one hit his thigh. His knees almost gave way, but he managed to stay on his feet. Don’t look, he told himself, just don’t look at them. That’s what they want you to do. He heard them cracking jokes behind him, the sweat was not pouring off his back but it tingled, making him restless. Without looking up he turned round as he hacked. If they wanted to hit him, he thought, let them hit his head. A gust of wind rose, blowing sand that stung his eyes. His hair was almost dry. When the group leader made his rounds he grinned happily at Thomas. It was as if he knew why Thomas was working naked. The wind puffed out the group leader’s jacket. He was wearing boots. Thomas had his wet, urine-soaked shoes on and nothing else.
Around ten there was a new assignment. Along with two men, Thomas was to load the trucks. Both men had crosses tattooed on one forearm, with the words Faith — Love — Hope. One man’s cross had rays like the sun, the other was on a hill like a tomb. As soon as a truck was full it was winched up the inclined hoist. Thomas stood on the heap of stones bending and bending until his back hurt. On this first day he was the one to do the bending; he picked up each stone and passed it on to the man with the cross like the sun, who passed it on to his friend with the cross like a tomb, who put it into the truck. After a while Thomas put a hand to his aching back, but the man in front just told him, with a mocking look in his eyes, to get a move on, he’d soon get used to this, work wasn’t for the squeamish, and he held out his arms waiting for Thomas to pass him the next stone.
At twelve the group leader blew his whistle for the midday break. Mess-time. Thomas bent down and carried the next stone to the truck himself, since the two men in his chain were already climbing the steps.
What’s the matter, the group leader asked Thomas, don’t you want to get dressed? Thomas nodded. He was not cold any longer, but he certainly didn’t want to climb out of the pit and go to the hut naked.
Go on, then.
Where are my things?
Ooh, lost your things? What a shame. The group leader bit his lip, rubbed one earlobe and grinned. Not hungry?
Thomas shook his head; in fact he was only thirsty.
Well, no slacking, you’re not here to dawdle about. If you don’t want anything to eat you’d better go on breaking up those stones over there, and he pointed to a heap of roughly quarried stones. As soon as the group leader had disappeared Thomas went looking for his clothes, but he couldn’t find them. So he went on breaking stones; he didn’t want to freeze.
After their midday break the stoneworkers came back smoking cigarettes and joking. They took no notice of Thomas. Sometimes they broke up stones, sometimes they sat on them, smoking. Around three the group leader whistled. Some of the men could knock off work now, the others were to do overtime. Because winter would be coming in a few weeks’ time. The men leaving could go up to their huts. Thomas watched them go. At six the whistle went for the end of the second shift. The remaining men disappeared, leaving only Thomas and the group leader behind.