Ma Chester stood over the stove, watching the coffee. She shook her head. “Nope,” she said. “We ain’t got a radio.”
Dillon cut the salty ham angrily. “I thought every farm had a radio,” he said.
“Well, we ain’t,” Ma Chester snapped. “We’re poor, see?”
“You’re tellin’ me,” Dillon snarled.
The shack door opened and a girl came in. Both Roxy and Dillon stopped eating and stared at her. She was big. Her straw-coloured hair hung down to her shoulders. Her dirty cotton dress barely concealed her over-ripe figure. She was as tall as Dillon, with big hands and feet. Her features were regular and good, but the expression on her face and in her eyes was that of a child of seven.
She stood there shifting her feet, looking with scared eyes at the two at the table.
Ma Chester said, “Sit down, Chrissie; these two gentlemen ain’t goin’ to worry you.”
There was a long awkward silence as she shuffled over to the table and sat down. Then with a burst of confidence she said, “Did you come in that big car?”
Dillon glanced over at Roxy. Roxy said, “Yeah, that’s right.”
Chrissie smiled timidly. “We ain’t got a car,” she said, reaching out a large hand for some bread. “Can I go for a ride?”