Page 29 of Strangers in Time

S O L ONG

C HARLIE LOOKED TO SEE whether Lonzo was holding his knife or not. He wasn’t. Lonzo came forward while Charlie stood his ground.

“Eddie’s dead,” said Lonzo somberly.

“I know, I saw it in the paper.”

Lonzo looked down at the ground. “See, blokes know me and Eddie was mates. If the coppers think… then they’ll know… And that lorry driver, ’e got a good look at me, I reckon.”

“What are you goin’ to do?” asked Charlie.

“Dunno. I could leave ’ere, but I got nowhere’s to go, and no money to get there.”

“Would a half crown help?”

Lonzo stared at him. “ You got a ’alf crown?”

“I can get it. Then I’ll give it to you.”

Lonzo looked dumbstruck. “Why… why would you do that, Charlie?”

“We didn’t want Eddie or the copper to die, Lonzo. It just happened.”

“I’m no good, Charlie. I know that. I… I used to be before… the war. Me mum, she was nice, did her best. And when me dad got in the damn pints and took off ’is belt to beat me, she wouldn’t let ’im. And then the war took ’im. And then Mum…” He looked back down at the ground. “I don’t want yer money, Charlie. Give it to yer gran.”

“But then what will you do?”

“I’ll think ’a somethin’. I always think ’a somethin’, even without Eddie round. ’e was a good bloke. ’e had it worse’n me. ’e really did. At the orphanage and all. What blokes done to him ’cause ’e was little.”

“Right,” said Charlie.

“Might join up. Fight the Jerries. I looks old enough.” He put out his hand. “Good luck to you, Charlie.”

Charlie shook his hand and then Lonzo was gone.

Charlie passed by the wreckage of a Dornier aircraft, its severed snout resting half inside an abandoned building and its shattered tail with the German Cross on it lying a dozen feet away. An RAF sergeant had guarded it for a bit after the plane had first come down. But once it was stripped of everything, the sergeant no longer came. Folks would take pictures in front of it or throw rocks at the ruined hull. He studied it for a bit, imagining the airmen inside it plotting their bombings. Charlie was glad they were dead.

Two corners over he received a shilling from a man in return for shoveling dead rats from a building that was being rehabilitated , or so the man said. Charlie didn’t know what that meant, but he scooped skinny gray carcasses and earned his money. Charlie didn’t know what the man had used to kill all those rats, but he could smell something strong that might have managed it. It was actually making his belly feel funny.

After he was done shoveling and got his coin, he had rushed to the river and thrown up the bile in his stomach, as did four other boys who had scooped rats with him. The man with the shillings had never ventured into the building. He had stayed well away smoking his pipe.

In the blissful peace of the cluster of hours caught between darkness and true dawn, Charlie stared at the black ribbon of the winding Thames. A great city lay half in ruins. The hearts of the survivors were just as damaged. Millions of men had fallen on battlefields all around the world, and the clash of countries was far from over. He wondered what they would call the next world war other than number three.

He tossed a flat stone into the dark water but was unable to see the ripples.

I really can’t see me, either, but I’m here, for now. Until maybe they hang me for Eddie and the copper. Or a bomb does the job.

He made his way along the river, heading west.

He liked to keep moving. For lads like Charlie, it was always a good idea.