to be appreciated. 'The things I hear,' he said, his voice sing-song, as he repeated the
phrase. 'The things I hear, the things I hear.'
'Knowing somebody's name isn't so clever,' Will replied.
'I know more than that.'
'Like?'
'Like you came from Manchester, and you had a brother only he's dead.' He spoke the d-word with relish. 'And
your dad's a teacher.' He glanced at his sister. 'Frannie says she hates teachers.'
'Well he's not a teacher,' Will shot back.
'What is he then?' Frannie wanted to know.
'He's ... he's a Doctor of Philosophy.'
It sounded like a fine boast, and for a moment it silenced his audience. Then Frannie said: 'Is he really a doctor?'
She had unerringly gone to the part of his father's nomenclature Will had never really understood. He put a
brave face on his incomprehension. 'Sort of,' he said. 'He makes people better by .. . by writing books.'
'That's stupid,' Sherwood said, crowing the word that had begun their whole exchange. He started to laugh at
how ridiculous this was.
'I don't care what you think,' Will said, putting on his best sneer. 'Anybody who lives in this dump has got to be
the biggest stupid person I ever saw. That's what you are-'
Sherwood had turned his back on Will and was spitting over the bridge. Will gave up on him and marched off
back towards the house.
'Wait-' he heard Frannie say.
'Frannie,' Sherwood whined, 'leave him alone.'
But Frannie was already at Will's side. 'Sometimes Sherwood gets silly,' she said, almost primly. 'But he's my
brother, so I have to watch out for him.'
'Somebody's going to bash him one of these days. Bash him hard. And it might be me.'
'He gets bashed all the time,' Frannie said, "cause people think he's not quite...' she halted, drew a breath, then
went on: '... not quite right in the head.'
'Fraaaannnnie...' Sherwood was yelling.
'You'd better go back to him, in case he falls off the bridge.'
Frannie gave her brother a fretful backward glance. 'He's okay. You know, it's not so bad here,' she said.
'I don't care,' Will replied. 'I'm going to be running away.'
'Are you?'
'I just said, didn't I?'
'Where to?'
'I haven't made up my mind.'
The conversation faltered here, and Will hoped Frannie would go back to her brattish brother, but she was
determined to keep the exchange going, walking beside him. 'Is it true what Sherwood said?' she asked, her
voice softening. 'About your brother?'
'Yeah. He was knocked down by a taxi.'
'That must be horrible for you,' Frannie said.
'I didn't like him very much.'
'Still ... if something like that ever happened to Sherwood ...They had come to a divide in the road. To the left
lay the route back to the house; to the right, a less well-made track that rapidly wound out of sight behind the
hedgerows. Will hesitated a moment, weighing up the options.
'I should go back,' Frannie said.
'I'm not stopping you,' Will replied.
Frannie didn't move. He glanced round at her, and saw such hurt in her eyes he had to look away. Seeking some
other point of interest, his gaze found the one visible building close to the right-hand track, and more to mellow
his cruelty than out of genuine curiosity he asked Frannie what it was.
'Everybody calls it the Courthouse,' she said. 'But it isn't really. It was built by this man who wanted to protect
horses or something. I don't know the proper story.'
'Who lives there?' Will said. As far as he could tell at this distance, it was an impressive-looking structure; it
almost looked like a temple in one of his history books, except that it was built of dark stone.
'Nobody lives there,' Frannie said. 'It's horrible inside.'
'You went in?'
'Sherwood hid there once. He knows more about it than I do. You should ask him.'
Will wrinkled up his nose. 'Nah,' he said, feeling as though he'd made his attempt at conciliation and he could
now depart without guilt.
'Fraaannnie!' Sherwood was yelling again. He had clambered up onto the wall of the bridge and was
phrase. 'The things I hear, the things I hear.'
'Knowing somebody's name isn't so clever,' Will replied.
'I know more than that.'
'Like?'
'Like you came from Manchester, and you had a brother only he's dead.' He spoke the d-word with relish. 'And
your dad's a teacher.' He glanced at his sister. 'Frannie says she hates teachers.'
'Well he's not a teacher,' Will shot back.
'What is he then?' Frannie wanted to know.
'He's ... he's a Doctor of Philosophy.'
It sounded like a fine boast, and for a moment it silenced his audience. Then Frannie said: 'Is he really a doctor?'
She had unerringly gone to the part of his father's nomenclature Will had never really understood. He put a
brave face on his incomprehension. 'Sort of,' he said. 'He makes people better by .. . by writing books.'
'That's stupid,' Sherwood said, crowing the word that had begun their whole exchange. He started to laugh at
how ridiculous this was.
'I don't care what you think,' Will said, putting on his best sneer. 'Anybody who lives in this dump has got to be
the biggest stupid person I ever saw. That's what you are-'
Sherwood had turned his back on Will and was spitting over the bridge. Will gave up on him and marched off
back towards the house.
'Wait-' he heard Frannie say.
'Frannie,' Sherwood whined, 'leave him alone.'
But Frannie was already at Will's side. 'Sometimes Sherwood gets silly,' she said, almost primly. 'But he's my
brother, so I have to watch out for him.'
'Somebody's going to bash him one of these days. Bash him hard. And it might be me.'
'He gets bashed all the time,' Frannie said, "cause people think he's not quite...' she halted, drew a breath, then
went on: '... not quite right in the head.'
'Fraaaannnnie...' Sherwood was yelling.
'You'd better go back to him, in case he falls off the bridge.'
Frannie gave her brother a fretful backward glance. 'He's okay. You know, it's not so bad here,' she said.
'I don't care,' Will replied. 'I'm going to be running away.'
'Are you?'
'I just said, didn't I?'
'Where to?'
'I haven't made up my mind.'
The conversation faltered here, and Will hoped Frannie would go back to her brattish brother, but she was
determined to keep the exchange going, walking beside him. 'Is it true what Sherwood said?' she asked, her
voice softening. 'About your brother?'
'Yeah. He was knocked down by a taxi.'
'That must be horrible for you,' Frannie said.
'I didn't like him very much.'
'Still ... if something like that ever happened to Sherwood ...They had come to a divide in the road. To the left
lay the route back to the house; to the right, a less well-made track that rapidly wound out of sight behind the
hedgerows. Will hesitated a moment, weighing up the options.
'I should go back,' Frannie said.
'I'm not stopping you,' Will replied.
Frannie didn't move. He glanced round at her, and saw such hurt in her eyes he had to look away. Seeking some
other point of interest, his gaze found the one visible building close to the right-hand track, and more to mellow
his cruelty than out of genuine curiosity he asked Frannie what it was.
'Everybody calls it the Courthouse,' she said. 'But it isn't really. It was built by this man who wanted to protect
horses or something. I don't know the proper story.'
'Who lives there?' Will said. As far as he could tell at this distance, it was an impressive-looking structure; it
almost looked like a temple in one of his history books, except that it was built of dark stone.
'Nobody lives there,' Frannie said. 'It's horrible inside.'
'You went in?'
'Sherwood hid there once. He knows more about it than I do. You should ask him.'
Will wrinkled up his nose. 'Nah,' he said, feeling as though he'd made his attempt at conciliation and he could
now depart without guilt.
'Fraaannnie!' Sherwood was yelling again. He had clambered up onto the wall of the bridge and was
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