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The frost burned his ears and crystallised under his collar, between the buttons of his jacket and up his sleeves, which were too short for him. It grazed the back of his throat and etched its sharpness deep into his lungs. He paused in the market square to blow on his hands, which were now completely numb and locked onto the handlebars. Obviously he couldn’t stay out there for two hours. He had to find a warm refuge for himself, his bike and his bag of money.
No lights shone from any of the houses or shops, and the square which was so busy during the day was deserted except for a bunch of rats scuttling along the base of the church wall. Freddie inspected the church porch. It was clammy and unfriendly. He thought about the station waiting-room which usually had a welcoming fire, and decided to go there.
The old bread bike had no brakes and with the heavy bag of money in the front it careered down the station hill like a toboggan. Freddie stuck his long legs out straight, his hobnailed boots striking sparks along the road, making a lot of noise, and he arrived breathless at the station railings. He felt like laughing out loud. No one was around as he wheeled the bike onto the platform, and the moonlight gleamed on the rails. He turned the brass knob of the waiting-room door and, to his great joy, it was unlocked. The smell of coal and leather lingered in the air and it felt warm as he pushed the bike inside and stood there in heavy darkness. A faint red glow came from the embers of the fireplace.
Freddie carried the clanking coal bucket outside and helped himself to some chunks of the silvery coal stacked in the yard. Then he re-lit the fire and sat toasting his face and hands against its cheerful flame. The first train was not until eight o’clock, so he had plenty of time to luxuriate by the roaring fire, guard his bag of money, and reassemble his daring plan.
A
‘How could you let ’im go out in the frost and the dark like that, George? What were you thinking?’
‘I couldn’t stop him,’ protested George as he stoked the coke oven vigorously.
‘He’s not strong, our Freddie, he suffers with bronchitis,’ said A
‘No,’ agreed George shortly, ‘but you’d no business having another baby at your age, Mother, and with the war coming.’
A
‘He wouldn’t have gone out like that – in the DARK – without breakfast, George. What did you say to him?’
‘Nothing much. Just asked him about the sack of money he had. He woke me up, banging it down the stairs. What was he doing with a hoard like that, smuggling it out at that time of the morning? Looks suspicious to me. Very suspicious.’ George plunged his hands into a bowl of water, took the bar of Sunlight soap and started washing the coal dust from his arms. ‘There’s something odd about that boy, Mother. You can’t see it.’
A
‘Artistic!’ George’s voice went up an octave. ‘What good is that?’
‘Who are you to judge? Freddie’s been miserable in this bakery, I know that. It’s not what he wants. He wants to be a mechanic. And surely you could have helped him? Fine brother you’ve been, and now look at you – boozing and wasting your money. Shame on you.’
George shrugged.
‘And don’t you shrug your shoulders at me.’ A
‘Don’t treat me like a child, Mother. I’m a man now,’ said George, and then he added something that demolished the remains of A
A
George was shocked. He’d never seen his mother cry, even when Levi had died. She’d always been rock solid and in control. And now she was crying – over Freddie! He walked over to her, and put his hand on her humped shoulders.
‘There – don’t cry. I didn’t mean to . . .’
‘Yes you did,’ accused A
George picked up a tray of loaves and started to slide them into the oven, and A
‘LEAVE THE BREAD,’ she shouted. ‘It’s me you should care about, and your brother.’ She pushed her chair back and stood up, facing George with her chin and her ample bust lifted imperiously, her eyes steady again and in control. ‘I think you’d better leave, George. You get on that smelly motorbike and go home, back to Yeovil, and don’t come here again until you can look me in the eye and apologise. From the heart. Go on. Just GO.’
‘And who’s going to deliver this bread?’ George raised his eyebrows and went on stacking the oven.
‘Just GO,’ said A
‘You’ve got flour in your hair,’ said George lightly. But when he saw the ultimatum in A
‘All right. I’ll go. But don’t come ru
A
She went upstairs and stood in Freddie’s bedroom. Mechanically she made his bed and sat down on it, staring bleakly around at the whitewashed walls. The picture of Gra