Flight of the Grey Goose Read online

  A little guarded Smiler said, ‘Problem, Professor? What problem?’

  The Professor shook his head. ‘All mankind has problems. And that includes boys. Wandering about the country with a dog and a bit of string for a collar, carrying an old sack for luggage, spending a night in a concrete pipe – I don’t have to be a Professor of Sociology to know you must have a problem. Adrift on the troubled sea of life – victim of, who knows, what strife. The metre’s bad but the rhyme is good. I’ll do better later in the day. So what’s your problem?’

  Smiler, who liked the man, still felt that he ought to be cautious.

  He said, ‘It’s a bit private, Professor.’

  ‘All problems are, more or less. But since I’m a Professor of Problemology, too, you can tell me. Troubles dealt with in the strictest confidence. No charge. But since you’re not quite sure how to go about it, let’s see if we can tackle it diplomatically. You’re in trouble?’

  ‘Yes, Professor.’

  ‘On the run?’

  ‘Yes, Professor.’

  ‘Guilty or not guilty?’

  ‘Of what, Professor?’

  ‘Of what you’re running away from, of course.’

  ‘No, I’m not. It was all a mistake and –’

  ‘Hold it!’ The Professor cut him off. ‘Not so fast. No need for details. I know truth when I hear it. Running away and not guilty. Good. Running where to?’

  ‘Scotland, Professor.’

  ‘A fine country – though I never cared for it. The cooking is terrible. And why Scotland?’

  ‘’Cos my father’s ship berths up there in October and I got to meet him so that he can sort things out for me.’

  ‘Splendid. He sounds like a good father. But Scotland’s a long way off and so is October. Walking easily you could do it in a month.’

  ‘I want to get up there as soon as I can.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because – like I said – I’m on the run and the police down here–’

  ‘– are keeping their sharp official little eyes open for you? Is that it?’

  ‘Yes, Professor.’

  ‘The solution is simple. You’ve got money?’

  ‘Yes, Professor.’

  ‘How much?’

  ‘Twenty odd pounds.’

  ‘Then take a train.’

  Smiler shook his head. ‘I couldn’t do that, Professor. I’d have to show myself at a station in some town. There’s always police at stations. And on the train, too, there’d be people and the guard and ticket collector.’

  ‘Spare me the passenger list,’ said the Professor. ‘ There are different ways of taking trains. Would you consider three pounds too expensive for a place on a train with no need for stations or meeting passengers and police?’

  ‘Could you fix that, Professor?’

  ‘Why not? I’m also a Professor of Fixology – for them that I like.’

  ‘Would you for me, Professor?’

  ‘Consider it a settled deal, No need for contract or big red seal. Better. But still not of the highest order.’

  The Professor stood up and put the frying-pan down in front of Bacon for the dog to lick clean.

  Smiler said gratefully, ‘ I was very lucky to meet you, Professor.’

  The man smiled through his beard. ‘You were, Samuel. You were. But do not judge the rest of the human race by me – otherwise you’ll be in for disappointments. Yes, you were very lucky. Right – now we’ll strike camp and go and make your travel arrangements. Caledonia stern and wild waits to greet the runaway child.’

  ‘I’m not a child,’ said Smiler stoutly.

  The Professor grinned. ‘For the sake of the rhyme you have to be. No offence intended. Now you take the canopy down and I’ll pack up the old pram.’

  So the two of them set about striking camp. When it was all done, with everything stowed away in the pram, the Professor, with Smiler’s help, cleaned up the camp site, poured water over the fire embers and finally left the place neat and tidy.

  It was very soon clear to Smiler that the Professor knew every inch of the countryside in this area. Pushing the pram along small tracks and paths, and occasionally lifting it over a stile or locked gate, they went away across a long stretch of heath and woodland. Finally, after a long climb to the head of a small valley, they came out on to a wide reach of flat grasslands, which was traversed by a small, high-hedged, dusty road.

  On the road Smiler took over the pushing of the pram while the Professor walked at his side and gave him a running commentary on everything which they passed. He knew the name of each bird, each flower, bush and tree. And Smiler, walking with him, thought what a nice but odd sort of man he was. He was the kind, he thought, that old Joe Ringer back in Wiltshire would have liked. But Joe Ringer and all his time in Wiltshire now seemed a long way behind. Ahead of him lay Scotland, October and his father. Three pounds from his twenty would leave him seventeen pounds. That would be more than enough to keep him going until he found a job.

  A mile down the road they came to a level-crossing. To one side of the red and white gates stood a tall signal-box and some way beyond it Smiler saw the platform and buildings of a small station.

  The Professor said, ‘You wait here, Samuel, while I go and have a talk with an old friend. But first the money. A little grease to oil the wheels of commerce.’

  From his back pocket Smiler pulled out the stout brown envelope in which he kept his money. He slipped three notes out and handed them to the Professor. Then he put the envelope back in his pocket.

  Smiler and Bacon sat on the grass at the side of the road while the Professor went along to the signal-box and climbed the steps to the control room at the top. He went in and Smiler could see him talking to a man in shirtsleeves.

  After a little while the Professor came back, smiling and nodding his head.

  ‘Is it going to be all right?’ asked Smiler.

  ‘It is, Samuel. The great iron road to Scotland lies ahead – and you will travel it on a moving bed. Not bad. Not good. In between. That’s the trouble with my poetry. Now then, we’ve got to wait until nine o’clock tonight. I’m going on into the village to stock up with provisions. Give me a pound and I’ll bring some back for your journey.’

  ‘Would you, Professor?’ Smiler fished for his brown envelope again.

  ‘Of course. A small service gladly performed. Meanwhile you make yourself scarce around here. Keep off the road and be back just before sunset.’

  Smiler said, ‘ Of course. But, Professor, while you’re in the village could you get me an envelope and some paper and a stamp? I got an urgent letter to write.’

  The Professor’s eyes twinkled. ‘Correspondence, eh? Some brown-skinned, bright-eyed girlfriend – don’t grieve for me, darling, we’ll meet in the end?’

  Smiler chuckled and shook his head. ‘No – I got to write to my Sister Ethel that I’m supposed to live with while my Dad’s away. I got to let her know I’m all right.’

  ‘Of course you have. Highly commendable behaviour,’ said the Professor and he set himself behind the pram and with a wave of his hand began to push it over the level-crossing.

  Smiler watched him go. Then he turned back up the road with Bacon at his heels and went through the first gap in the hedge. Scotland, he thought. He was really going to Scotland. Things were turning out well, and the best turn-out had been meeting the Professor. That was a real stroke of luck.

  At eight o’clock Smiler returned to the level-crossing. The Professor was sitting on the grass bank waiting for him. From the pram he produced a load of provisions for Smiler. As Smiler packed them into his haversack, the Professor said, ‘You’ve everything you need there for a two-day journey. Got you a couple of bottles of water, but go easy on it. You might or might not get a chance to fill up along the way. The packet of dog biscuits is because I presumed your four-footed friend is going with you.’

  ‘Well, yes, of course,’ said Smiler. Somehow it had never occurred
to him that he would do anything else but take Bacon. They were both wanderers, had both been ‘destination unknown’ types when they had met.

  When he had finished his packing, Smiler wrote his letter to his Sister Ethel which the Professor promised to post for him. The letter read:

  Dear Sis, I am O.K. and doing fine but until Dad comes back I got to keep out of the way. Don’t worry for me I have a dog now who is a faythfill freind, and others what are helping me along the road. Tell Albert hello and love to you both. Samuel. I am alright for money as well. S.

  When the light began to go from the sky and the last skylark had ceased its chorusing and dropped to the ground, the Professor said, ‘Time to move. The shades of night are drawing nigh – Time for friends to say goodbye.’

  The Professor pushed his pram into the cover of some bushes. Then the two of them walked down the track past the signal-box and took up position on a steep embankment outside the little railway station. Here, alongside the main tracks, was a long length of track which made a shunting bay. The Professor explained that twice a week a northbound goods train came up the line and pulled into the bay around nine o’clock. It stayed for about fifteen minutes to let main line traffic through and then drew out to continue its journey northwards. The signalman in the box, having been paid, would turn a blind eye while Smiler selected a wagon and climbed aboard. All Smiler had to watch out for was that the crew of the diesel engine and the guard did not see him.

  ‘Which they won’t,’ said the Professor, ‘because they always use this break to have their supper.’

  Ten minutes later, the goods train pulled in, hauling behind it a long line of open and closed wagons.

  The Professor, who was clearly very knowledgeable about trains, said ‘ Closed wagons no good. Locked. Open ones are the ticket this time of the year. Well ventilated but protected from the weather by their tarpaulins. But you don’t want coal or machinery. Makes hard lying.’ He eyed the long line of wagons and then nodded. ‘Don’t worry. I’ve spotted one for you.’

  He stood up and looked up to the engine and then down to the guard’s van. There was no sign of the engine crew or guard. He began to move down to the line and Smiler and Bacon followed him.

  Smiler’s heart was thumping a little fast now. He’d hitch-hiked plenty of times, and ridden buses dodging the conductor to avoid paying a fare – but he had never jumped a train before. He had read plenty of stories of people who had. Sometimes they could only manage to get underneath the truck and then they often fell and had a leg chopped off by the wheels.

  They stopped close to an open wagon which had a green canvas tarpaulin over the top. The Professor squinted at the ticket on the side.

  ‘This will do.’ He reached up, a knife suddenly in his hand, and cut one of the holding ropes of the tarpaulin. ‘I’ll give you a leg up. You wriggle under and then I’ll pass the dog up. All right?’

  In the growing dusk, Smiler looked up at him and said, ‘Yes, Professor. And thank you very much for your help.’

  ‘Nothing at all, boy. Nothing at all. Adversity brings out the common humanity in us all. Now then, up you go!’

  As Smiler reached for a hold on the truck, the Professor crouched down and gave him a bunt up with his shoulder. He then steadied him with his hands as Smiler crawled in. Smiler went under the canvas like an eel and tumbled into the wagon on to a layer of smooth sacks – which he found later contained agricultural fertilizers. He crouched on the sacks and shoved his head and shoulders back through the canvas opening and reached for Bacon as the Professor held the dog up.

  Smiler hauled Bacon in and then popped his head out again to say good-bye to the Professor.

  The Professor stood outside in the gloaming, his bowler hat cocked to one side, his big black beard teased by the light breeze of the evening, his bright eyes twinkling. Smiler liked him so much that he half thought of suggesting that the Professor should come with him. With someone like the Professor around there wouldn’t be any trouble that could not be overcome. They could camp out on the mountains of Scotland and look after themselves easily. He was about to put this to the Professor when the man said, ‘Good-bye, Samuel. Keep a cool head and a steady hand. And give my qualified regards to Scotland. By brae and burn and lonely glen – Who knows when we’ll meet again? Not good. Not bad either for this time of night. God keep you, my boy.’

  The Professor gave something suspiciously like a sentimental sniff, doffed his bowler regally, and then turned away.

  Smiler said, ‘Bye, Professor. Thanks for … everything.’

  Smiler watched the Professor move up the embankment and then become lost in the shadows of the trees at its top. Smiler ducked under the canvas and in the semi-darkness began to make himself comfortable, stacking aside some of the sacks to make himself a space to lie in, settling Bacon down with a big dog biscuit, and telling himself what a bit of luck it had been meeting the Professor.

  Ten minutes later the goods train pulled out of the siding and hit the main track north. And five minutes later Smiler – always methodical – in checking over his possessions discovered that the brown envelope with his money in it had disappeared from his pocket.

  For a moment or two he couldn’t understand it. He was always careful with his money and he knew that he always buttoned his back pocket when he put the envelope in. He sat there, listening to the rump-bump-rump of the wheels over the rail joints and stared at the shadowy form of Bacon, crunching away at his hard biscuit.

  Suddenly he said aloud to himself, ‘Of course! That old Professor. He nicked it. Cool as a cucumber. He nicked it when he bunted me up. The old devil…!’ For a moment or two he didn’t know what to feel or think. Nearly twenty quids’ worth up the spout. Then, suddenly, he rolled over on the sacks and began to laugh, telling himself, ‘Samuel M., you was done. He turned you over as neat as neat. But it don’t matter, Samuel M. The only thing that matters is Scotland. You can get a job there and earn some more money.’

  Laughing still he rolled over and grappled with Bacon, the two of them mock fighting, as the train clattered steadily northwards.

  3. Operation Grey Goose

  The goods train was not a fast one. During that night it frequently drew off the main line to let passenger trains go through. Once during the night Smiler poked his head through the canopy while they were going slowly through a station and he caught the name – Penrith. It meant nothing to him except that he was pretty sure that it wasn’t a Scottish one because it was too soon to be in Scotland yet.

  He and Bacon slept on their smooth sacks. Now and again Smiler would wake to hear the clackety-clack-clackety of the wheels over the rails and to feel the wagon sway and swing below him. At first light he woke, feeling stiff and cold. He poked his head out to find a fresh dawn breeze cold on his face.

  There was a rose-pearl flush in the eastern sky against which was silhouetted a line of bare, grey-shadowed hills. Shivering, Smiler ducked below to escape the morning chill. He and Bacon had breakfast from the provisions which the Professor had bought. Smiler drank from one of the water bottles and he poured some of it into the inside of his cap for Bacon to drink. Luckily Bacon was very thirsty and lapped it up before much of it could soak away through the lining. Despite the breakfast, which Smiler thought would have warmed him up, he found that he was still shivering. It was so bad sometimes that his teeth rattled together and his body trembled all over as though someone were giving him a good shaking. Within the next hour things got worse. He had a bad pain in his stomach, his head began to ache, and now and then, instead of shivering, he went hot all over. In fact he felt very queer indeed. All he could do was to lie with Bacon huddled close to him and think how miserable he was.

  Sometimes he found himself talking out loud to himself or to Bacon.

  ‘Samuel M., you’re ate something bad. I only hope it don’t turn to a touch of the collywobbles. Not here.’

  He lay there, half-awake, half-asleep, his body going hot and cold, an
d his mind beginning to wander a little like it did just before going off to sleep so that things that started out sensibly slowly turned into nonsense. Fever, he thought. He’d had something like this once before when he was at his Sister Ethel’s house. For a while he wished he were there now. Warmly tucked up in bed with Sister Ethel to look after him. ‘ Say you was to die, Samuel M.? You might be here for weeks till they found you with the faithful hound beside you.’ Then the awful thought struck him that, maybe, as well as pinching his money, the Professor had poisoned his food. The Professor was a mad man, perhaps. Going about robbing and killing boys…

  Slowly Smiler passed into an uneasy, feverish, half-awake, half-asleep dream. He lay in the wagon while the train went steadily north through Dumfries, Kilmarnock, Motherwell and into Glasgow. Here, without Smiler knowing a thing about it, except for the bangings and shootings that came through into his dreams, the train was broken up. The wagons were shunted and reshunted and a new train formed. At six o’clock that evening the train pulled out of Glasgow (where lower down the River Clyde lay Greenock to which his father was to return in October) and headed even farther northwards, rattling and swaying towards the highlands of Scotland.

  Once, just before dark, Smiler came round, feeling a little better. He sat up and gave Bacon a drink and some dog biscuits. But he could neither eat nor drink himself. After this he lay back and dozed off. This time he dropped into a deep sleep, untroubled by dreams.

  Smiler woke to hear Bacon whining gently. Then, in the darkness, the dog licked his face. He sat up and was pleased to find that, although he felt a bit as though he’d been pummelled all over, his head was clear and the hot and cold shivering fits had left him. And then he realized something else. The train was not moving and there was stillness all around.

  Slowly, Smiler got to his feet and poked his head out of the wagon. It was a still clear night with a blaze of stars overhead. The truck stood in a siding with three others, but there was no sign of the rest of the train. Smiler decided that, whether he was in Scotland or not, he had had enough. He gathered up his belongings, lowered Bacon over the side, and dropped down after him.