Read Online Spinner by Ron Elliott - Free Book Online

you bastard,’ said the man, stepping up as though about to hit him.
    â€˜That’s the ticket, cobber,’ said his uncle, as if the man had said ‘top of the morning.’
    They looked at each other a moment, the one-armed man glaring and Michael smiling.
    â€˜I had a bit of a holiday in Egypt, then played up in France,’ said Uncle Mike.
    â€˜Gallipoli,’ said the man without any emotion at all.
    â€˜Gotta laugh.’
    Neither man did laugh but they both nodded to each other. His uncle said, ‘I got a business proposition. Flat rate or percentage?’
    The men started whispering seriously.
    David noticed a little hessian bag on the ground. It was not much bigger than a man’s wallet. It weighed about as much as a cricket ball but had the feel of a loosely packed sack of gravel.
    â€˜Throw it.’
    David looked up. His uncle was pointing at a coconut resting on a bench.
    He put on a caller’s voice. ‘Step right up and have a go. Knock off the coconut and win a prize. Come on sir, let’s have a look at that throwing arm.’
    David aimed at the coconut and threw, missing by a goodfew yards.
    â€˜So out of fielding and bowling, what would be your best thing, you reckon?’
    â€˜I’m not very good at fielding.’
    â€˜Too right. Well, we won’t put fielding into the equation then.’
    Michael paced out twenty-two good strides, dragging his boot across the dust. Then he went to the cricket bag and got three stumps and knocked them in near the back of the tent. He stood in front of the stumps and played some invisible shots and David realised if you played most shots except the drive, you’d hit the sides of tents on either side and behind, just like cricket nets.
    Then he got the side of a tea-chest and some paint from behind the next stall and came to David. ‘Time for you to draw up our sign.’
    â€˜Me?’
    â€˜Yep. Gotta have a sign. Um, let’s see. Win a pound. That oughta get them in. I reckon we’ll charge a sixpence for three balls. Once they see that it’s a kid bowling, they’ll be lickin’ their chops. Sixpence is a fair bit, but ... well, we’ll see how it goes.’
    David looked at the wood and the paint brush then back at his uncle. ‘Win a pound?’
    â€˜Yep. I’ll go see if I can find some old cricket balls.’ He looked at the ground. ‘And a mat. Gotta give you a fightin’ chance.’
    So David worked carefully on his sign trying to get the letters to come out right, as he considered his uncle’s plan, which he guessed had him bowling at people and them giving his uncle money. No matter how long David thought about the plan he could not find the sin in it.
    When Uncle Mike came back he had two big strips of coir matting over his shoulder and a hessian bag. He dropped the bag and old cricket balls came spilling out like overripe apples. He laid them in front of the wicket, ‘To give you something to spin on.’
    David said, ‘The thing is, Uncle Mike, I don’t think this is going to work.’
    â€˜Is that what you been thinking?’
    â€˜Yes, sir. I figure you’re thinking if I don’t get them out, you have to give them their pound.’
    â€˜Whoa, boy. That’s makin’ it a bit hard on us. No. I was thinkin’ that if they hit you back over your head, that’d be tempting enough for them. It’s a pretty big gap here. Fancy their chances and put in their sixpence. They get three chances at ya.’
    â€˜But I won’t have seen them bat before.’
    â€˜You think any of them will be able to bat worth a damn?’
    â€˜But I have to see someone bat, to work out what their weaknesses are.’
    â€˜Not this time, David.’ His uncle came over to him and went down on one knee. ‘You see we know what they’re going to do. If they block you or just keep you out or pad up then they’ve