Sue for Mercy - Veronica Heley Page 0,64

could give him better clothes, and a chit to the Labour Exchange …’

‘They’d probably jail him first for trespass and stealing eggs! You don’t want to send a man to jail, do you?’

‘N-no …’

‘Then let’s keep him for a few days. We’ll give him some work to do, and let him doss down in the garage at night. Then when he’s earned some money, we can send him on his way with a few pounds so that he can get a fresh start. Without money he can’t buy new clothes or obtain accommodation, and without new clothes he can’t apply for a job. He’s in a vicious circle of poverty, and he can’t break out of it on his own. We could help him to do so.’

‘But I don’t like tramps, and although I know it’s silly, I’d be afraid to have him around me.’

‘I’ll cope. You won’t have to talk to him or do anything but tell me what jobs you want him to do.’

He looked excited and pleased. I couldn’t find it in me to refuse him his wish to do good, so I agreed. I got out the cutlery box and all the materials for cleaning silver, and directed Toby to set up a bench and table outside so that the tramp could do the job in the open air. I didn’t want him in the cottage. Toby gave me a lingering kiss to show his approval and I melted. I knew that just because a man was big it didn’t mean that you could look up to him morally, but in this case I thought I was on to a good thing, for Toby had proved himself big in every way.

I started to make a shopping list while Toby instructed the tramp in his duties. Presently I heard Toby’s voice raised in anger, and then the sound of a slap. I didn’t like violence, and I didn’t really think Toby needed to use any on that shrimp of a man.

‘He can’t talk!’ said Toby, returning. ‘He’s dumb. Not deaf, but definitely dumb. I can’t get a word out of him. Either that knock I gave him earlier, or some illness perhaps … For all I know he’s been like it from birth. He doesn’t seem to know his name, or where he came from or where he was going to. You can see his mind goes blank when he tries to remember!’ The tramp’s plight seemed to amuse Toby.

‘Can he understand you? Does he know what he’s supposed to be doing?’

‘He understood that all right. Where are you going?’

‘Shopping.’

‘I’ll do it.’

‘But I don’t want to be left here alone with a nameless tramp. What would I call him?’

‘Hob the Hobo, perhaps? That would be a good name for him. He’ll not bother you. He’s chained up, remember, and he understands what he’s to do. I’ll take the Mini to a garage and see if I can get the dent knocked out, and do your shopping on the way back. You can get on with your clearing out in peace and quiet, and tonight we’ll dress ourselves up and go out. I see there’s a Jazz Festival on somewhere nearby. Do you fancy it?’

I’d seen the posters, too. ‘I wouldn’t mind,’ I said, ‘Even though I’d have to go as I am.’

Toby went off in my Mini, and I found myself work to do inside the cottage. I didn’t want to pass the tramp, so I made excuses not to go outside. At twelve I made myself some sandwiches and a cup of coffee. It was a baking hot day, and even inside the thick walls of the old cottage, the air was thick and warm. I had an argument with myself about feeding the tramp, and then took him out a sandwich and a mug of water on a tray.

He had finished cleaning the silver, which was gleaming in the sun. Now he was resting, lying at full length on the bench, his bruised and bloodied feet towards me. The chain round his ankle allowed him just enough leeway to get both feet onto the bench. I didn’t like to look at him too closely, but I couldn’t avoid seeing his feet.

I pushed the tray of food onto the table, and he sat up, slowly. I stepped back, to be out of his reach, although the table was between us, and he could not possibly have hurt me from where he sat. His eyes fixed on