Young Adolf by Beryl Bainbridge

Author:Beryl Bainbridge
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media
Published: 2016-06-28T04:00:00+00:00

17

They alighted from the train at a small station some twelve miles from Liverpool. After the noise of the city the place was uncomfortably quiet. Apart from the ticket collector, and a donkey tied by a rope to a painted fence, there wasn’t a soul in the world save themselves.

‘Over there,’ said Meyer, indicating a bicycle shed and a line of poplars blowing in the wind, ‘there’s a lane that cuts straight through to the woods and the shore.’

He insisted on carrying the child on his back. Fashioning a sling out of the black shawl, he tied the ends about his waist. The baby laid its cheek against his coat and sucked drowsily at its woollen fist. Locking his hands behind him to support the slumped bundle of darling Pat, Meyer galloped energetically past the bicycle shed and turned the corner.

‘Isn’t he good with the children?’ said Bridget.

Stumbling over the words, Adolf told her that in his opinion men without families were often more sensitive to the young.

‘He’s a son of his own,’ Bridget said, ‘somewhere or other. And a wife living in the Midlands.’ She flew ahead, red hair blowing about her red cheeks, anxious to keep the child under surveillance.

Confused by this startling piece of information, Adolf remained rooted to the spot. He had no idea what the Midlands might be. Was it possible that the generous, milk-of-kindness Meyer had abandoned his wife in a field? Perhaps in his references to obsolete machinery and waste products he had been alluding to Frau Meyer.

‘Hurry, hurry,’ called Bridget, dodging briskly round the corner of the shed.

Deep in thought, Adolf followed. He came into a cobbled yard fronted by a public house with shuttered windows. Set to one side was a wicket gate leading to a cinder path running black as a river through a waterlogged field and a coal-yard fenced with poplars. In the distance he was in time to see Meyer and Bridget closing a second, larger gate. He shouted, but evidently they couldn’t hear him. As he watched they scurried up a slight rise, Meyer hump-backed under his burden and Bridget apparently scrambling on all fours as she endeavoured to keep up with him. Then the ground dipped and they fell out of sight.

Whistling to show he didn’t care, Adolf sauntered through the wicket gate and along the path. There were crows stalking the hills of slack behind the trees. At the sound of his slithering boots they rose with outstretched wings and circled like vultures. He was damned if he was going to break into a sprint to catch up with his sister-in-law and Meyer. Obviously it wasn’t to be one of those gentle afternoon strolls enlivened by conversation and a study of nature. They had set out too late. If only Alois hadn’t whined for his dinner – already mist was beginning to seep across the flat meadows of sodden grass.

Upon arriving at the second gate he was surprised to find it wouldn’t open. He shoved without success.

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