'The Longitudinal Section of a Hen's Egg' by Maria Sanger

‘Robert, can you neatly draw the longitudinal section of a hen’s egg and indicate the chalazae?’ says Mr Birtwhistle.

The boys snigger as I struggle to erase the pain of my body and legs being swung against the brick pillar.

‘I’ll try, Sir.’ I tap off excess ink from my pen.

Our third-floor classroom is beamed, spacious, and we sit at tiered desks, overly worn. Outside, through the arched window and beyond the pink brick warehouse, red-sailed barges approach the bridge.

The bell rings. 

‘Robert, Robert…’

My eyes lock on the bascules, willing them to open.

* * *

I stare through the arched window, but the barges have disappeared. I doubt if the bridge opens twice a day now.

‘Robert…’

I flinch, but my wife’s voice is soft. Shadows still lurk in this room, but I don’t say why. The stay is her surprise. Instead, I say, ‘Thank you, Ceri.’

I start when the doorbell rings.

‘Dr Watkins?’ The girl smiles. ‘We do hope you enjoy your stay. Will you be taking cooked breakfast, Sir?’

I shake my head. ‘I can draw a longitudinal section of a hen’s egg with the chalazae marked, but I don’t eat eggs.’