After Brock by Binding Paul

Author:Binding, Paul [Binding, Paul]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction
ISBN: 9781854115683
Publisher: Seren
Published: 2012-07-20T10:58:46+00:00

Back in the car – and they were glad of its warmth after the sting of the winter air now the sun was in retreat – Sam said, casually enough, and in the drawl with which, Pete was beginning to notice, he protected himself against social awkwardness, ‘I was a bit of a bastard all the journey here, I know. I’m feeling less of one now I’ve been in touch with my mineral self. I guess we all have mineral selves, coming as we do from… from all this rock! And I wasn’t telling you the truth earlier either. I do have some dope here; shall we smoke some?’

They did.

Once down in the valley again it was already evening, its thickening shades in such contrast to the light still carpeting the hills to their west. Sam turned on the car lights, for the first time, he said, since his ownership. In terms of the amount of remarks exchanged the homeward ride was proving quieter than the outward one, but what a different atmosphere! Yes, Sam did have qualities Pete couldn’t find in any other of his friends. Not one of them would have talked about his ‘mineral self…’ Also on this return journey Sam was handling the car rather more confidently.

So it came as a shock when, suddenly, he braked. The abrupt action bounced Pete alarmingly, jarringly in his seat. It needed quite some self-manoeuvring just to stay sitting. ‘Shit!’ Sam exclaimed with a loudness that bored through Pete’s head, ‘fucking shit! Did I bloody hit it?’

The outrage in Sam’s voice was infectious. ‘Hit what? I didn’t feel anything.’

‘Hit that badger crossing the road, idiot. Where are your eyes? I swear there was one, but it’s hard to see things in this narrow lane. I’d hate to kill a badger.’

He stopped the car engine and jumped out of his driving seat into the dark of the minor country road. Then, ‘Yeah! It’s okay!’ he called back, ‘Thank God…! Want to come and have a look, Pete?’

He was continuing, reinforcing that easy inclusion of Pete in feelings and actions which had begun in earnest only after he had come down from his solo scramble up the stern irregularities of The Devil’s Chair. Pete hadn’t associated him with tenderness towards animals. Was that another product of his rock climb? Or had the joint brought it out from under the several layers of his difficult, perturbing self?

Pete stumbled out of his passenger seat, and, without completely straightening himself – his movements must be stealthy lest he frighten the animal – he crept across to where Sam was standing stock still, as if mesmerised. And sure enough he soon made out the large shambling creature, dark-haired, much the colour of the evening itself, but with a broad white stripe on the head and further stretches of whiteness for cheeks and chin. About two and a half feet long and heavy in build it was – surprisingly so to those who didn’t often see its kind – and short in the leg.

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