Page 60 of The Memory Wood

‘Forfree?’

‘One hundred per cent.’

I think about it for a while. ‘What kind of thing do you have to write?’

‘Just a reason why you need the set and a bit about your interest in chess. Favourite player, or opening. That sort of thing.’

‘I don’t have a favourite player.’

‘Not yet, you don’t.’

‘And you haven’ttaughtme any openings.’

My nose wrinkles. I sound like a spoiled brat, but I can’t help myself. Suddenly, more than anything, I want my own board and pieces, sent all the way from France. ‘Are you sure you won’t eat?’

Gretel considers my offering. Then she unwraps the handkerchief and stuffs the cheese into her mouth. For a while, the gloopy sound of chewing fills the silence. ‘I can help you write the letter,’ she says, between swallows. ‘You’d just need to post it.’

‘How long would the set take to come?’

She shrugs. ‘A week. Maybe two.’

‘Is the board made of rosewood?’

Gretel laughs. ‘Nope. You’ll probably get a standard tournament mat. But they’re waterproof, at least.’

‘What about the pieces?’

‘Plastic.’

I’m sad that I won’t be getting hand-crafted versions, like Gretel’s. Then again, without her help, I’ll be getting nothing at all. ‘Can we do it, then?’

She tilts her head and peers into the light, and I find myself wondering if she’s as sick, or deflated, as I first thought. ‘What willyoudo forme, Elijah?’ she asks.

Silence falls between us. It feels like we’re balancing on a tightrope. ‘What do you want?’

‘I want you to protect me,’ she says. ‘I want you to tell me how to survive this.’

‘I swear to you, Gretel. I’ll do everything I can to make sure nothing bad happens.’

Her head is still tilted. Slowly, she straightens. ‘I like it when you call me Gretel.’

‘I’d like it if you’d call me Hansel.’

‘OK … Hansel.’

‘Will you do it, then? Will you write to FIDE?’

Gretel indicates her rucksack. ‘I have a notebook in there. Pens, too. But I don’t think I can write. Not with my wrist the way it is.’

‘You could dictate.’

‘If they find out about this, about what we’re doing. Would they …’

‘They wouldn’t be happy,’ I tell her. ‘But I can keep a secret, if you can.’

Then I switch off the torch. In perfect darkness, I steal across the floor towards Gretel.

‘Hansel?’

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