The Dwarfs Read Free Page A

What about?
    - The theory of numbers.
    - What did he have to say?
    - Don’t wear me out, Pete said. I’m not up to it. Why don’t you switch on a few lights? This place is like the black hole of Calcutta.
    Mark was sitting with his feet up on the table.
    - What ho, Pete said.
    - Greetings.
    - I don’t trust that cat, Len said. I let him out the back door and he comes in the front.
    - What about a shake in the air? There’s a good delousing wind out. Open to all comers. You both look as if you could do with it.
    Mark swung his legs to the floor.
    - You’re right. Let’s get out.
    - Perhaps you’d like to hear a little serenade before you go, said Len. It’s by Spack and Rutz and played by Yetta Clatta. It’s church music.
    - Another time, Weinblatt, Pete said.
    They left the house and walked to the duckpond. On a bench by the wooden bridge they spread a newspaper and sat down. Wind tipped the hanging rain from the leaves.
    - Listen here, Pete, Len said. Why do you always call me Weinblatt? My name’s Weinstein. Always has been.
    - It won’t stick.
    Mark began to cough, his cough growing to a rolling grate. Swearing between gasps, he staggered to the pond’s edge and spat copiously. Clearing his throat, he spat again, into the dark water.
    - Mark, Pete said, you’re out on your own as a gobber.
    - Thanks, Mark said, spitting into a bush.
    He sat down and wiped his mouth.
    - But what I want to know is, Pete said, when are you going to give up rattling and put on a cowl?
    - Me? What do you mean? I am a priest. Nowhere am I so religious as in bed. I put them all in touch with the universe.
    - What you mean is you lead them all up the garden.
    - Exactly.
    Len had risen, and was standing by the pond, his hands in his pockets.
    - I’ve signed my name to something, he said.
    - Joined the army? Mark asked.
    - No, Len said, sitting down. I’ve applied for a job in an insurance office.
    - Don’t say that.
    - What do you mean? Pete said. See if he can stick it.
    - I know what’ll happen, Len said. They’ll have me doing mortality tables all day. I’ll sit and calculate the next best mortality rate. A bloke like you, Mark, only gets the next best, not the best.
    - What about a bloke like me? said Pete.
    - Why should you get the best? I don’t know anyone who gets the best.
    - What about your cat? asked Mark.
    - You could stick it, Pete said, with a bit of go and guts.
    Pete and Mark lit cigarettes. Len watched their heads bend to the match.
    - It’s no joke, this job business, Mark said, smoke slipping from his nose.
    - Well, Len said, it all depends on which way you look at it. For instance, I know a geezer who’s always touching wood. So you know what he did? He took a job in a library. Look at all the chances there are for touching wood in a library. The place is full of wood. He has the time of his life.
    Len stood up.
    - Look here, Pete, he said. Let’s have a look at your hand.
    - My hand?
    - Yes.
    He lifted Pete’s left hand to his chin, lowered his glasses and peered at the palm. Breathing through his teeth, he bent closer. With a start he let the hand drop.
    - You’re a homicidal maniac! he exclaimed. I thought as much.
    - What! said Mark.
    - Give me that hand, Len demanded. Look, I ask you, at that hand. Look. A straight line right across the middle. Right across the middle. Horizontal. See? That’s all he’s got. What else has he got? I’ve never seen anything like it. You’re a nut!
    - It’s very likely, Pete said.
    - Very likely? You couldn’t find two men in a million with a hand like that. It sticks out a mile. You’re a homicidal maniac. Without a shadow of a doubt. We can lay our last bets.
    Len was on nightshift. He left them to catch his bus. Pete and Mark began to walk towards Bethnal Green.
    - Do you know what he’s up to? Pete said.
    - No. What?
    - He’s started to read the New Testament.
    - And the very best of luck.
    - I came across that Bible I gave you the other day.
    - Where?
    -