Part 13 (1/2)

'Dan?'

'Yes.'

'It weren't... it weren't no good in Posset today, without you being there.'

'Wasn't it?'

'No.' He brightened. 'I bought my comic though. Will you read it to me?'

'Tomorrow,' I said tiredly.

There was a short silence while he struggled to organise his thoughts.

'Dan.'

'Mm?'

'I'm sorry, like.'

'What for?'

'Well, for laughing at you, like, this afternoon. It wasn't right... not when you've took me on your motor-bike and all. I do ever so like going on your bike.'

'It's all right, Jerry.'

'The others were ribbing you, see, and it seemed the thing, like, to do what they done. So they would... would let me go with them, see?'

'Yes, Jerry, I see. It doesn't matter, really it doesn't.'

'You never ribbed me, when I done wrong.'

'Forget it.'

'I've been thinking,' he said, wrinkling his forehead, 'about me Mam. She tried scrubbing some floors once. In some offices, it was. She came home fair whacked, she did. She said scrubbing floors was wicked. It made your back ache something chronic, she said, as I remember.'

'Did she?'

'Does your back ache, Dan?'

'Yes, a bit.'

He nodded pleased. 'She knows a thing or two, does my Mam.' He lapsed into one of his mindless silences, rocking himself gently backwards and forwards on the creaking bed.

I was touched by his apology.

'I'll read your comic for you,' I said.

'You ain't too whacked?' he asked eagerly.

I shook my head.

He fetched the comic from the cardboard box in which he kept his few belongings and sat beside me while I read him the captions of Mickey the Monkey, Beryl and Peril, Julius Cheeser, the Bustom Boys, and all the rest. We went through the whole thing at least twice, with him laughing contentedly and repeating the words after me. By the end of the week he would know most of them by heart.

At length I took the comic out of his hands and put it down on the bed.

'Jerry,' I said, 'which of the horses you look after belongs to Mr Adams?'

'Mr Adams?'

'The man whose hunters I've got. The man who was here this morning, with a grey Jaguar, and a scarlet coat.'

'Oh, that Mr Adams.'

'Why, is there another one?'

'No, that's Mr Adams, all right.' Jerry shuddered.

'What do you know about him?' I asked.

'The chap what was here before you came, Dennis, his name was, Mr Adams didn't like him, see? He cheeked Mr Adams, he did.'

'Oh,' I said. I wasn't sure I wanted to hear what had happened to Dennis.

'He weren't here above three weeks,' said Jerry reflectively. 'The last couple of days, he kept on falling down. Funny, it was, really.'

I cut him short. 'Which of your horses belongs to Mr Adams?' I repeated.

'None of them do,' he said positively.

'Ca.s.s said so.'

He looked surprised, and also scared. 'No, Dan, I don't want none of Mr Adams' horses.'

'Well, who do your horses belong to?'

'I don't rightly know. Except of course Pageant. He belongs to Mr Byrd.'

'That's the one you take to the races?'

'Uh huh, that's the one.'

'How about the others?'

'Well, Mickey...' His brow furrowed.

'Mickey is the horse in the box next to Mr Adams' black hunter, which I do?'