that. His start is buggered. His start is over. But his future, whatever it holds, and for however long ⦠well: got to do my bit, havenât I? Iâm his Dad, arenât I? Yes I am. So Iâve got to do my ⦠no, not my bit. My utmostâthatâs what Iâve got to do.
âNow then, Paulâall right, are we?â
âYes thank you, Mr. Miller.â
âStill raining, is it?â
âNot quite so much now. Just spitting. Anthony ready?â
I jolly well hope he is ready because Iâm only just on time today because my stupid Uncle Jimâhe really is so completely stupid, Uncle Jimâhe called me into the shop just as Iâd got my satchel all buckled up and my raincoat on and everything, which is just so typical. Come in here Pauly, he was going: itâs my string. And honestly, itâs quicker not to argue or ask questions or anything because then he only starts up and goes on and on for hours. So I went into his dirty old stinky shop and there was the string, unwound from the tin thing, the tin sort of dispenser thing, and all over the floor. Dropped it, he said: help me wind it all up again, hey? Thereâs a good lad. Well honestlyâhow stupid can you be? To get the string into such an awful mess. Amanda, she says Iâm always going on about Uncle Jim and he canât be that bad. Oh yes? Well you just try living with him Amanda, thatâs all, is what I said to her. Itâs allright for her, isnât it? Sheâs got a proper father, and heâs normal. Auntie Milly says that Mr. Barton the butcher, heâs a real gentleman. Uncle Jim isnât. Uncle Jim is a real idiot. I really do like Amanda, though. Talking to her, and everything. I wouldnât tell Anthony or anyone, but last summer in Regentâs Park, she taught me how to make daisy chains and she put this buttercup under my chin and she said oh look, Paulâyou donât like butter. I didnât actually know what on earth she was talking about or anything, but I didnât say soâand I do like butter, actually. Itâs margarine I donât like, and I said so to Auntie Milly and she doesnât get it any more. And then we lay on the grass and it was really hot and I went all squinty in the sun and I sort of just touched her on the knee once, and she didnât say anything. And a bit later I wanted to do it again, but I didnât.
âWhere is he, Mr. Miller â¦?â
âHe wonât be a jiffy, Paul. Just going to the Gents. Spending a penny. And talking of pennies ⦠what takes your fancy on the tray today, eh?â
âOh gosh. Thanks a lot. Um ⦠think Iâll have a Black Jack if thatâs all right, Mr. Miller.â
âBlack Jack? Thatâs a new one for you, Paul. Well Black Jacksâtheyâre only a haâpenny, they are. So take a couple, eh? Three, say. Take three.â
âOh thanks. Thanks a lot, Mr. Miller.â
âThey color your teeth, mind.â
âThatâs whatâs good about them. Gobstoppersâthey color your tongue.â
âYou boys. You boys. Ah! Here he comesâthe man himself.â
Anthony, wearing his customary expression of anticipation, his bright blue eyes seemingly eager to be caught by anything at all, clumped his way through the shop from the stockroom at the back.His cap was crooked on his head, and what with grabbing at that and raising a gray metal crutch in greeting to Paul, he very nearly had himself over. Both Paul and his father moved instinctively toward him, but he batted them away.
âIâm okay. Iâm fine, Has the rain stopped, Paul?â
âPretty nearly. Weâd better get a move on, though.â
Stanley Miller laid his hands on Anthonyâs shoulders and bent down to softly kiss the side of his head. And he would have embraced himâhugged him so very tight, squeezed the very life out of the little
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