“So I got a job, didn’t I? It was stacking boxes in a warehouse. I hated it for months, till I started going out with a girl, then I didn’t care. I changed jobs often, but at least I was bringing in money, which satisfied the old man. You have to learn the hard way, don’t you? I know I did, though in the end it didn’t do me any harm. Now I’ve got two lads of my own, both at university.”
I was surprised. “University?”
He smiled. “I don’t know why you say it like that. They’re doing art and sociology. Well, I don’t want them to work like I have to work, do I? I encouraged them to stay at school, which took some doing, let me tell you, because they just wanted to get out and scrounge some money. My father, the worst rat I know, by the way, thought I was daft, letting them go to university, but I didn’t want to force my kids out to work at fifteen, did I? I wanted my sons to get on in the world, so that they’ll have cushy jobs when they qualify.”
“They’ll be set up forever,” I put in.
“And so they should be. But you asked me how I got into rats. When I was twenty I met the girl of my life. Well, it would have to start like that, wouldn’t it? We got married, so I had to find a steady job. I got one with the council, and never looked back. It was slow promotion through the sanitation department, mind you, but one day the supervisor asked if I’d like to transfer to pest control. I wanted to know what sort of pests he had in mind, and when he told me it was rats I nearly fainted, right there in front of him, because the time when I’d been bitten by one as a kid came rushing back, the first time it ever had, and from the feeling of hatred I knew that the job was for me, so I had the presence of mind to tell him that rats was right up my street. You might not believe this, but from that moment I never looked back. I even went out and bought a new cap, a peaked one, with braid around the front. The chap who’d already done rats for ten years took me under his wing and told me all I ought to know, though I learned more on my own after he retired, because he hadn’t gone into the psychological aspect at all. Now there’s a can of worms for you — though I shan’t go into it. I’ll keep to the physical, and tell you that if I kill a hundred rats at every house, taking that as a fair average, I calculate in this little notebook”—I shivered as he tapped his coat pocket — “up to this morning the total comes to getting on for four million.”
Even Dismal turned away from his sinister laugh. I couldn’t but think that his tally must err somewhat on the high side, though as long as his trade kept him from working the same mischief on human beings there wasn’t much harm in it. “That’s not a bad revenge,” I said, “for the brute that nipped you when you were a kid. It couldn’t have known what massacres it was setting off, but fair’s fair, I suppose. Would you like more coffee? I’ve got plenty of sugar.”
He put his ornate cap on, and picked up the bucket. “I can’t stay here talking all day, much as I might like to. There’s another house I’ve got to look into. The woman sounded desperate when she phoned this morning. I like to keep things in strict rotation but, all the same, it wouldn’t do to keep her waiting.”
No sooner was he out of the door than the biggest rat I’d ever seen sniffed at a mound of the deadly crystals. Hardly daring to breath, I noted the suspicion in its eyes, which changed to joy before it bounded off to tell the rest of the rat community that the toffee man had been.
I cooked a stew for lunch, throwing in all the meat and vegetables to make it last at least two days, but Dismal, the starving orphan, proved irresistible to my soft heart, and got one helping after another till every scrap had gone. It was no easy work, therefore, to make him follow me up the hill. When we came back he stood by the stream watching the water flow by, while I went inside to answer the telephone.
Chapter Nineteen
“Peppercorn Cottage here,” I announced.
“I know it is. I didn’t think I was giving Downing Street a bell.”
Bill Straw’s hectoring tone was clear enough. “Where the fuck are you?”
“Michael, if I’ve told you once I’ve told you fifty times, a man who’s sure of himself doesn’t swear.”
“I only asked where you were.”
“That’s no excuse. You’re a grown man. It doesn’t become you. But for your information I de-bussed at the top of your lane a short time ago, and will be down at your present residence about soon, providing I step out at a hundred and twenty paces to the minute, like we used to in the old Sherwood Foresters.”
“Where did you come from? How did you get here?”
He laughed. “There are trains and buses in this country, though I don’t know how long it will last. Just unroll the red carpet for my arrival.”
I pushed the phone away, knowing that with him in the house there wouldn’t be a crust of bread left by tomorrow.
He stood by the sink to unload a rucksack almost as big as himself. “I can’t think how I managed to carry all this. It weighs about seventy pounds, but at least I didn’t have a Bren and ammo as well.” Tin after tin of provisions were stacked on the draining board. “I didn’t expect you to keep me, Michael. I do think of others from time to time. I also think you might put the kettle on though, now I’m here. I got thirsty on that plank wagon they called a bus.”
I set out cups, eccles cakes, crisps, bread, butter and jam as fast as my arms would move. “Why did you come, then? I won’t say I’m not glad to see you, but it is a surprise.”
He sat, waiting to be waited on, as was his habit. “I’ll tell you in a bit. Meantime, let me have a fag, duck. I’m right out.”
“I suppose you’re broke, as well?”
“Buses don’t come cheap. And put another spoon in the pot. You know I like it strong. It’s starting to rain. I got here just in time.” He looked around. “What a squalid little slit trench. I thought Moggerhanger would have done better than this.”
“He’s never stayed here. He wouldn’t last ten minutes. Spleen Manor’s his usual bolt hole, which is warm and smart.”
“I know the place,” he said. “It’s got a better field of fire for one thing.”
I laid out the tea, and gave Dismal his share before sitting down to mine, by which time Bill had already bolted two of the cakes. “When I left you, Michael, I went to Major Blaskin’s, and he allowed me to stay a few days. Of course, I had to pay my keep by scribbling a couple of chapters of a Sidney Blood, but it was easy work after our time in Greece. Just listen to that rain. We’ll need a kayak to get us out of here.”
“Then where did you go?”
“I bummed around Liverpool Street, but there wasn’t enough generosity coming my way, so I lit off as soon as I had enough cash to get a few groceries and pay my way up here.”
“What about the twenty quid I gave you in Ealing?”
His face broke into the usual berserker laugh. “It’s stitched into my coat as a reserve. I never like to be flat broke, you know that. I say, now that I’m here do show a bit of hospitality and butter me a crisp.”
I was in no mood to spoil him. “Do it yourself, then you can go on with your pack of lies.”
“There are times, such as now, when I wish I was spinning a yarn but, alas, the reality is worse than any lies, as you’ll hear in a minute or two.”
“You’ve got me sweating.” I buttered him a crisp with such alacrity, though care, that it didn’t even break. “You must admit I’ve got a right to be surprised at you turning up here, just when me and Dismal were getting used to some peace and quiet.”