Ten Tales Tall and True Read Free Page A

what you are liable to do and not do. But do right by me and I’ll do right by you. Understood?”
    The young navvy stared, hypnotized by the dour impassive face now turned to him. Suddenly it changed. The eyes stayed watchful but the mouth widened into what the young navvy supposed was a smile, so he nodded. The big man patted him on the shoulder and walked away.
    The navvies went to the tool-shed and cleaned the tools in silence. The youngest was depressed, though he did not know why. When they had returned the tools to their places (which were easy to see, because there were three ofeverything so a gap in the ranks was as obvious as a missing tooth) the young navvy said, “Do we just leave now?”
    â€œNo. We wait for the inspection.”
    They did not wait long. There was a rattling of at least two locks then an inner door opened and Stoddart came through carrying a tray with two glasses, a whisky bottle and a jug of water. His inspection was a quick sideways glance toward the tool-racks before he said, “How old are you, Ian?”
    â€œNearly seventeen.”
    â€œToo young for whisky. I’m not going to teach you bad habits. But Joe and me haven’t had our ne’erday yet. A bad thing, me forgetting old customs. A large one, Joe? Macallan’s Glenlivet Malt?”
    â€œThanks, aye”
    â€œWater?”
    â€œNo thanks.”
    â€œQuite right, better without... Good stuff Joe?”
    â€œAye.”
    â€œHow’s the old back, the old lumbago, Joe?”
    â€œNo bad, considering.”
    â€œAye, but age gets us all in the end – even me. I’m not as young as I was. We have to learn to take things easy, Joe.”
    â€œAye,” said Joe, and emptied the glass straight down his throat.
    â€œGod, that went fast!” said Stoddart, “Another one, Joe?”
    â€œGoodnight,” said Joe, and walked out.
    â€œGoodnight Joe, and goodnight to you Ian. See you next week on the dot of one youngster. Joe will be taking a bit of a rest. Right?”
    â€œThanks,” said the young navvy, and hurried after Joe wondering why he had said thanks instead of goodnight when he had been given nothing, had not even been paid yet for his labour.
    The young navvy overtook Joe walking into the back lane and said, “Are you no going for a bus, Joe?”
    â€œNo. This is a shortcut.”
    â€œCan I come with you?” asked the young navvy, wondering why he was asking. Joe said nothing. They walked beside each other in a lane with a brick wall on one side, a railway embankment on the other. It could have been in the depths of the country. Grass, daisies and clover grew between two parallel paths made by car wheels and the verges were thick with dandelions, dockens, thistles, burdock. Branches from trees in the gardens behind the wall hung overhead. From the embankment hawthorns and brambles stuck thorny, leafy shoots between the sagging wires of a fence. The old and young navvy walked side by side in silence, each on one of the parallel tracks. The young one felt Joe was angry, feared it had to do with him, tried to think of something to say.
    And at last said, “When the boss turned up beside us there I thought he was McIvor at first.”
    Joe said nothing.
    â€œDon’t you think he’s a bit like McIvor, Joe?”
    â€œOf course he’s like McIvor. McIvor is a foreman.
    Stoddart is the foreman’s foreman – the gaffer’s gaffer. Of course he’s like McIvor.”
    â€œBut he’s cheerier than McIvor – he calls ye by your first name. Have you had drinks with him before, Joe?”
    â€œThat was the first and last.”
    â€œThe last? Why the last?”
    â€œBecause you’ve done for me.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?” asked the young navvy, suddenly seeing exactly what the old one meant but confused by two amazements: amazement that the boss preferred him to Joe, amazement at the unfairness