Baillie asked.
“Yes, thank you, Captain Baillie.”
Even though he was retired, William Baillie liked people to recognize his army rank. Fox served
tea to the men and offered round the biscuits. With a glance at the plate he nearly took one himself. He
was hungry, and his hummus sandwich remained in the kitchen, but he didn’t want to leave just yet or
be reprimanded by his father for helping himself. “Do you need the laptop or just what’s on it, Mr.
Maputwa?”
Mr. Maputwa looked him up and down before continuing to work on the computer. “Why do you
want to know, Fox?”
“Because if you don’t want the hardware, can I have it?”
“You’ve got a laptop. I bought you a new one for that stupid fucking art college,” Baillie said
loudly.
“University of the Arts London is very hard to get into,” Fox said quietly.
“And if you weren’t such a fucking nancy boy, the army would have taken you!” Baillie
screamed at him, standing up. His face grew red very quickly when he was angry or frustrated.
Fox could only imagine how the men under his command had felt about him. Mr. Maputwa gave
no reaction at all to the sudden altercation, as if he was used to such behavior. But Dr. Howard
looked uncomfortable. Though Fox was entirely accustomed to his father’s sudden outbursts, he
always shriveled and looked at the floor.
“The British Army would not have William Baillie’s son?” Mr. Maputwa’s grin showed a row
of strong yellowish teeth.
The officer at the recruitment office his father had dragged him to at the age of sixteen had
looked him up and down and said, “He looks like joining the army is the last thing he wants to do,
Captain Baillie.” Addressing Fox in a surprisingly kindly tone, he had asked, “What do you want to
do, son?”
“Go to art college,” Fox had replied. When they got home, his father had thrashed him until his
entire body was black with bruises, but at least he had never suggested him joining up again.
Anger edging his words, Baillie said, “No, they wouldn’t.”
“One of these days you must bring him to Uganda, and I will train him. A father should never
train his own son. Leave it to another man.”
“Are you related to Idi Amin?” The moment Fox heard Uganda , the words slipped out.
For a long moment the man stared directly at Fox. The whites of his eyes were laced with red
blood vessels, the irises nearly black. Fox had seen eyes like that many a time at parties on people
who were stoned out of their minds. He was sure Maputwa was on drugs. The man came across as a
real fucking nut.
“A great man,” he said. “No, I am not related to him.” With a sharp clap of his hands Mr.
Maputwa thrust the laptop from him and took a cup of tea. “The hard drive is wiped, though all we
needed was on the memory sticks. Let him have it if he wants it.”
“I can get thirty quid for it from a girl at college,” Fox said quietly.
“Very enterprising.” Mr. Maputwa shoved several biscuits in quick succession into his large
mouth and slurped his tea. With hasty movements, Fox refilled his cup.
“I’d better go and check on the twins.” He looked at his father, not daring to move.
“Go on, then, and you can sell that thing if you want,” Baillie said.
Flooded with relief at being allowed to escape the two men whom he found equally terrifying,
Fox grabbed the equipment. At the door he paused very briefly to watch the Ugandan man hand a
briefcase to his father. William Baillie opened it and pulled out a wad of cash, and with his other
hand he took out another. Quietly Fox closed the door.
After stowing the laptop in his backpack and putting it in his bedroom for later, he grabbed the
twins’ trainers and joined them in the garden. “Come on, you two. Get your trainers on. We’ll go over
to the park for a while, and you can go on the swings.” Without a word, Alder and Arden obeyed.
Holding Fox’s hands, they walked out through
“Yes, thank you, Captain Baillie.”
Even though he was retired, William Baillie liked people to recognize his army rank. Fox served
tea to the men and offered round the biscuits. With a glance at the plate he nearly took one himself. He
was hungry, and his hummus sandwich remained in the kitchen, but he didn’t want to leave just yet or
be reprimanded by his father for helping himself. “Do you need the laptop or just what’s on it, Mr.
Maputwa?”
Mr. Maputwa looked him up and down before continuing to work on the computer. “Why do you
want to know, Fox?”
“Because if you don’t want the hardware, can I have it?”
“You’ve got a laptop. I bought you a new one for that stupid fucking art college,” Baillie said
loudly.
“University of the Arts London is very hard to get into,” Fox said quietly.
“And if you weren’t such a fucking nancy boy, the army would have taken you!” Baillie
screamed at him, standing up. His face grew red very quickly when he was angry or frustrated.
Fox could only imagine how the men under his command had felt about him. Mr. Maputwa gave
no reaction at all to the sudden altercation, as if he was used to such behavior. But Dr. Howard
looked uncomfortable. Though Fox was entirely accustomed to his father’s sudden outbursts, he
always shriveled and looked at the floor.
“The British Army would not have William Baillie’s son?” Mr. Maputwa’s grin showed a row
of strong yellowish teeth.
The officer at the recruitment office his father had dragged him to at the age of sixteen had
looked him up and down and said, “He looks like joining the army is the last thing he wants to do,
Captain Baillie.” Addressing Fox in a surprisingly kindly tone, he had asked, “What do you want to
do, son?”
“Go to art college,” Fox had replied. When they got home, his father had thrashed him until his
entire body was black with bruises, but at least he had never suggested him joining up again.
Anger edging his words, Baillie said, “No, they wouldn’t.”
“One of these days you must bring him to Uganda, and I will train him. A father should never
train his own son. Leave it to another man.”
“Are you related to Idi Amin?” The moment Fox heard Uganda , the words slipped out.
For a long moment the man stared directly at Fox. The whites of his eyes were laced with red
blood vessels, the irises nearly black. Fox had seen eyes like that many a time at parties on people
who were stoned out of their minds. He was sure Maputwa was on drugs. The man came across as a
real fucking nut.
“A great man,” he said. “No, I am not related to him.” With a sharp clap of his hands Mr.
Maputwa thrust the laptop from him and took a cup of tea. “The hard drive is wiped, though all we
needed was on the memory sticks. Let him have it if he wants it.”
“I can get thirty quid for it from a girl at college,” Fox said quietly.
“Very enterprising.” Mr. Maputwa shoved several biscuits in quick succession into his large
mouth and slurped his tea. With hasty movements, Fox refilled his cup.
“I’d better go and check on the twins.” He looked at his father, not daring to move.
“Go on, then, and you can sell that thing if you want,” Baillie said.
Flooded with relief at being allowed to escape the two men whom he found equally terrifying,
Fox grabbed the equipment. At the door he paused very briefly to watch the Ugandan man hand a
briefcase to his father. William Baillie opened it and pulled out a wad of cash, and with his other
hand he took out another. Quietly Fox closed the door.
After stowing the laptop in his backpack and putting it in his bedroom for later, he grabbed the
twins’ trainers and joined them in the garden. “Come on, you two. Get your trainers on. We’ll go over
to the park for a while, and you can go on the swings.” Without a word, Alder and Arden obeyed.
Holding Fox’s hands, they walked out through
Similar Books
