his attention on Willie and off the hungry Dotty, Joseph made an attempt at conversation. ‘Must
find a lot of changes, being retired, Bill. Time hang heavy on your hands, does it?’
Dotty, hearing the mimicry of Willie’s accent, scowled.
‘Oh God no, I’m kept pretty busy here, you know. Always something to do, there is. Mr MacFarley’s always got improvements
in hand.’ He wasn’t sure that Mr Joseph was listening. At all events he was looking out at the field beyond the open door,
leaning well back in his chair.
‘Plenty to do,’ said Willie, wondering when the girl would roll another cigarette and whether he would be offered one.
‘I haven’t seen old George this morning,’ said Joseph.
‘I have,’ Roland said. ‘He came down to the stream when I was playing with my boat. He told me not to fall in the water.’
‘That’s right,’ Willie told him. ‘Can’t have you falling in the water.’
‘He asked if you were up here,’ said Roland. ‘I said you were. I said you were digging a hole.’
‘Oh, aye.’ Mr George, Willie reflected, was no fool. Not the man his father was, but fairly shrewd. He’d be up here soon to
ask why he was doing the toilet when it had been done only a day or so earlier. He’d best be getting off home soon.
‘How do you get on with George?’ asked Joseph suddenly, abandoning his food, laying down his fork and pushing the plate away.
‘Well, now.’ Willie dropped his cap to the floor. ‘I can’t say that I divine Mr George. I can’t say that I do.’
‘Very apt,’ Joseph said, seeing in his mind the pigmy Welshman standing before the giant George, holding a divining rod towards
the dark and elongated head.
‘You see, it’s like this, Mr Joseph. He was always a trifle odd, but he wasn’t half so odd till he’d been to Israel – ’
‘To Israel?’ said Joseph, startled.
‘When he came back from Israel,’ Willie said, ‘he was a changed being and that’s the truth. Even Mr MacFarley remarked on
the change in him. Like as if he was mesmerized.’
‘What’s Israel?’ Roland wanted to know, eating an orange on the floor.
‘Where the Jews live,’ his father told him. ‘Get up and sit at the table. No one said you could eat on the floor.’
The child stayed where he was, juice running from his lips.
‘What’s the red tree by the barn please, Willie?’
‘The juniper tree, you mean – the one with the dark berries?’
‘I didn’t see any berries,’ said Roland.
‘Don’t go eating any berries, my lad. You’ll get belly-ache.’
‘I think I’d better have one of my pills,’ Kidney said, apparently to Willie. ‘I should have one three times a day.’
Joseph said, ‘I’ve decided to cut them out for a time. See what
a bit of fresh air and exercise will do.’ He began to put coffee powder into mugs of assorted colours.
‘What’s been wrong with Balfour?’ asked Dotty. ‘George said last night he’d been ill for a long time.’ Dotty had been thinking
about Balfour most of the morning.
Willie saw that she had already rolled one cigarette and was in the process of rolling another. In anticipation he said, ‘Something
wrong with his blood, I think, Mrs Dotty. I don’t rightly know what. Thank you, I will.’ He took the thin wafer she proffered
him. ‘He went away to Italy for a holiday some years back and picked up a germ. Kept him off work for quite a time. You see,
it’s like this. He gets sick suddenly – very high temperatures and the shivers, like as if he was turned to ice. All he can
do is hide away and sleep it off.’
‘How awkward,’ remarked Joseph. He had little patience with sickness. How the hell, he wondered, had someone like Balfour
afforded to go abroad. Not to mention George trotting round Israel. He bent and wiped at Roland’s sticky mouth with the tea
towel. If he wasn’t so encumbered with responsibilities he might manage somewhere more exotic himself, though it would probably
be the same
find a lot of changes, being retired, Bill. Time hang heavy on your hands, does it?’
Dotty, hearing the mimicry of Willie’s accent, scowled.
‘Oh God no, I’m kept pretty busy here, you know. Always something to do, there is. Mr MacFarley’s always got improvements
in hand.’ He wasn’t sure that Mr Joseph was listening. At all events he was looking out at the field beyond the open door,
leaning well back in his chair.
‘Plenty to do,’ said Willie, wondering when the girl would roll another cigarette and whether he would be offered one.
‘I haven’t seen old George this morning,’ said Joseph.
‘I have,’ Roland said. ‘He came down to the stream when I was playing with my boat. He told me not to fall in the water.’
‘That’s right,’ Willie told him. ‘Can’t have you falling in the water.’
‘He asked if you were up here,’ said Roland. ‘I said you were. I said you were digging a hole.’
‘Oh, aye.’ Mr George, Willie reflected, was no fool. Not the man his father was, but fairly shrewd. He’d be up here soon to
ask why he was doing the toilet when it had been done only a day or so earlier. He’d best be getting off home soon.
‘How do you get on with George?’ asked Joseph suddenly, abandoning his food, laying down his fork and pushing the plate away.
‘Well, now.’ Willie dropped his cap to the floor. ‘I can’t say that I divine Mr George. I can’t say that I do.’
‘Very apt,’ Joseph said, seeing in his mind the pigmy Welshman standing before the giant George, holding a divining rod towards
the dark and elongated head.
‘You see, it’s like this, Mr Joseph. He was always a trifle odd, but he wasn’t half so odd till he’d been to Israel – ’
‘To Israel?’ said Joseph, startled.
‘When he came back from Israel,’ Willie said, ‘he was a changed being and that’s the truth. Even Mr MacFarley remarked on
the change in him. Like as if he was mesmerized.’
‘What’s Israel?’ Roland wanted to know, eating an orange on the floor.
‘Where the Jews live,’ his father told him. ‘Get up and sit at the table. No one said you could eat on the floor.’
The child stayed where he was, juice running from his lips.
‘What’s the red tree by the barn please, Willie?’
‘The juniper tree, you mean – the one with the dark berries?’
‘I didn’t see any berries,’ said Roland.
‘Don’t go eating any berries, my lad. You’ll get belly-ache.’
‘I think I’d better have one of my pills,’ Kidney said, apparently to Willie. ‘I should have one three times a day.’
Joseph said, ‘I’ve decided to cut them out for a time. See what
a bit of fresh air and exercise will do.’ He began to put coffee powder into mugs of assorted colours.
‘What’s been wrong with Balfour?’ asked Dotty. ‘George said last night he’d been ill for a long time.’ Dotty had been thinking
about Balfour most of the morning.
Willie saw that she had already rolled one cigarette and was in the process of rolling another. In anticipation he said, ‘Something
wrong with his blood, I think, Mrs Dotty. I don’t rightly know what. Thank you, I will.’ He took the thin wafer she proffered
him. ‘He went away to Italy for a holiday some years back and picked up a germ. Kept him off work for quite a time. You see,
it’s like this. He gets sick suddenly – very high temperatures and the shivers, like as if he was turned to ice. All he can
do is hide away and sleep it off.’
‘How awkward,’ remarked Joseph. He had little patience with sickness. How the hell, he wondered, had someone like Balfour
afforded to go abroad. Not to mention George trotting round Israel. He bent and wiped at Roland’s sticky mouth with the tea
towel. If he wasn’t so encumbered with responsibilities he might manage somewhere more exotic himself, though it would probably
be the same
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