“The Boy in the Field”

Chapters 1 & 2

The afternoon was warm and still; only a few leaves fringed with brown hinted at autumn. Gnats hung in listless clouds above the tarmac.
Zoe was the one who spotted something through the hedge. She had a gift for finding things: birds’ nests, their mother’s calculator, a missing book, a secret.

Chapters 3 & 4

...a man, a stranger, came through the gate on the far side of the churchyard. What she saw first was his panama hat, then his white shirt and jeans. He was carrying a book.

Chapters 5 & 6

Near the hedge he discovered an empty beer bottle, coated with mud, a crumpled page from a comic Zoe used to read, and the dull blue rectangle of a local bus ticket.
The last he put into his pocket...

Chapters 7 & 8

Walking back to the gate, she saw a pale-green crayon lying in the grass.

Chapters 9 & 10

Duncan knelt down a couple of yards away and held out his hand. Her coat was sleek,
like that of a black Labrador...

Chapters 11 & 12

Matthew adjusted his grip, and raised his foil. “Engage.”
He lunged. Leon, foil wavering, parried.

Chapters 13 & 14

The first photo was of a sunset over the sea; the second of a woman standing on the beach, laughing, her hair blowing in the wind, her jeans rolled up.
The photographer’s shadow lay at her feet.

Chapters 15 & 16

That evening Duncan found himself looking not at Leda and the Swan, or Europa and the Bull, paintings full of color and movement that told a story,
but at five bottles, or flagons, or vases—he wasn’t sure what to call them—each a different shape. He turned the page and there were the same five bottles,
the tallest one on the left. And again, and again.

Chapters 17 & 18

When their tea was gone, he paid the bill, leaving a pound tip, and they walked over to the museum. What did he mean by “an old friend”? she wondered.
A statue of a philosopher? But he led her past the Greek statues, clothed and unclothed, to the Egyptian section.

“Zoe, meet Meresamun,” he said. “Meresamun is a singer in the temple of Amun.”

Chapters 19 & 20

Swimming up and down the pool, her thoughts set free by the monotony of breaststroke,
she considered various wretched possibilities.

Chapters 21 & 22

“I brought you something.” Holding out the small pink shell, she explained that cowries used to be a form of currency. “I found it on the beach in Wales.”

Chapters 23 & 24

For the first time Hugh Price had the five o’clock shadow of a TV detective, and his jacket was rumpled.
They were in a small interview room, the ocher walls glossy and cracked, the only furniture a scarred wooden table with two chairs.

Chapters 25 & 26

Benjamin at last raised his beer. “I feel like an idiot.”

Chapters 27 & 28

She cocked her head like Zoe, although of course it was the other way round.
“Well, he made an exception in your case. He told us that we ought to let you do art for as long as you want.”
He was still struggling with the bewildering idea that they “let” him do art when he saw the sheet of paper in her hand.

Chapters 29 & 30

Then he was gone and Lily was standing there, staring out into the dark garden.

Chapters 31 & 32

“People will wonder,” she went on, “why a boy your age wants to speak to a woman her age. We might inadvertently hurt her.
Hurt her,” she explained unnecessarily, “without meaning to.” Oh, he thought, she’s trying to say I’m a secret.

“You phone,” he said, “and I’ll listen.” “Quietly,” she insisted.

Chapters 33 & 34

As the three of them headed down the street, she described how many phone orders she’d taken;
how she sounded like an expert when people asked what size of turkey they needed.
Duncan listened and nodded.

She knew he wouldn’t want to talk until they were safely in the park, surrounded by twilight and trees.

Chapters 35 & 36

He was holding the phone so tightly his hand hurt. “This is Duncan Lang.”

“Duncan Lang. What a good name. I am Esmeray Yildirim. Thank you for phoning me. You’re very brave.”

Chapters 37 & 38

She was thinking only of her mother’s cold, but Lily jumped down from the window seat, trotted over, and stationed herself a few feet away, gazing up at her mother.
Her mother gave one quick glance in Lily’s direction. Then she looked back toward the window where—Zoe had not yet drawn the curtains—
the dark night pressed against the glass. Watching the two of them, Zoe felt a huge, pulsing pressure.

Chapters 39 & 40

Duncan steeled himself. Wordless, he led the way to the wall where his work hung. He stopped in front of the first painting, Zoe on his left, Matthew on his right.
Feeling them on either side, their eyes reaching toward the canvas, he was, at last, able to take in the crimson gashes, the soft greens and golds,
the black lines which only he knew were swallows, darting. It was Matthew who spoke first.

“You painted the boy in the field.”

The Boy in the Field
Illustrations to accompany AARP’s serialized
release of the novel "The Boy in the Field" by Margot Livesey.

Client: AARP
AD: Josef Edmonds