Then We Take Berlin by John Lawton Read Free Book Online Page B

“Let’s not spoil this one, eh?”
    Abner laughed.
    “Spoil ’im. I’s’ll thrash ’im night and day!”
    It was obvious they were joking.
    Harry Holderness was not.
    His first act on stepping into Abner’s parlour was to knock the boy across the room with the back of his hand.
    Absence distorts. Wilderness had an idea of his father that was less than the reality. He’d always pictured a big man, and common sense told him that if he and Harry ever met again the man would appear proportionately smaller as he himself had grown.
    But the bastard was huge. At least six two, barrel-chested, rippling with muscle and churning with rage.
    “No ’ard feelings. That’s just to let you know who’s who.”
    Wilderness picked himself up off the floor, wiped the blood from his mouth. Abner, at five two and eight stone, didn’t stand a chance against Harry. All the same he got between him and Wilderness with the bread knife in his hand.
    “Hit him again Harry and I’ll gut yer.”
    Harry righted one of the chairs he’d sent flying, sat down and stared at Abner.
    “Don’t be a silly bugger, Abner. I’ve killed more krauts than you’ve had hot mash and pies. Now, be a sweetheart and get that tart o’yours to put the kettle on. We’ve a lot to talk about, and I’ve only got a forty-eight hour pass.”
    Wilderness heard the pop of the gas going on in the kitchen.
    Harry asked inane questions about his wife’s death and funeral. Inane only because he did not seem to care about the answers. When Merle finally set a tea tray in front of him, he changed to the real subject of his visit.
    “About the boy . . . ”
    “I’m right here, Dad, I’m in the room.”
    “Are you asking for another belt? Shut up. Your father is talking. About the boy, Abner.”
    “Wot about him Harry? You suddenly remembered he exists?”
    Harry ignored this.
    “Can you keep him?”
    “Already am. He’s got a home here.”
    “I’ll see you right for the money. His Majesty pays me as a man with a dependant. You’ll get what’s due to you.”
    “I don’t doubt it, Harry.”
    “The army’ll do the paperwork. All I need is a letter from you, and a copy of Lil’s death certificate for the Army Paymaster, then there’ll be a few bob each week for you at the Post Office.”
    Abner didn’t say he couldn’t read or write. Wilderness knew he’d be doing all that for the old man from now on.
    “So,” Harry went on. “All that’s left is what’s he gonna do between now and his call-up.”
    “Call-up? The boy’s only thirteen.”
    “Fourteen come August 3.”
    “And . . . this war ain’t gonna last for ever now is it?”
    “From where I stand, in a pair of size twelve army boots, Abner, I can’t see no bleedin’ end to it. We got our arses kicked in France. The Russkis are sticking to their devil’s pact, and Uncle Sam as ever don’t want to know. We’re on our Jack Jones. Either Hitler invades us, or we invade him. So, I say again, what’s the boy gonna do?”
    “Matriculate,” Wilderness said softly.
    Merle flinched, and he realised she had confused matriculate with masturbate. Abner looked baffled. The word was clearly new to him. But Harry knew what he’d meant.
    “What? Exams and that? You? You must be joking.”
    “It’s what they want at school,” Wilderness said. “They want me to matriculate. They want me to sit the exams, and they tell me I’ll pass.”
    “And you believe ’em? What then? College? University? Oxford? The likes of you and me don’t get to go to places like Oxford, son. We leaves school and we gets ourselves a job.”
    He was leaning forward now, reddening in the face, looming over Wilderness like a tethered barrage balloon, blotting out the rest of the room. It was a slapping moment. If he continued to argue, Harry would hit him again. So, he argued.
    “It’s what I want,” he said simply.
    The first blow knocked him off his stool, the second, merely a spread hand against the chest,