Jesse, half off balance, grunted and grabbed at the steering. ‘Col… What the hell are you doin’ here?’
De la Haye, still breathing hard, grinned at him in the reflection of the sidelights. ‘Jus’ a fellow traveller, my friend. Happy to see you come along there, I tell you. Had a li’l bit of trouble, thought a’d have to spend the night on the bloody heath…’
‘What trouble?’
‘Oh, I was ridin’ out to a place a’ know,’ said de la Haye. ‘Place out by Culliford, li’l farm. Christmas with friends. Nice daughters. Hey, Jesse, you know?’ He punched Jesse’s arm, started to laugh. Jesse set his mouth. ‘What happened to your horse?’
‘Bloody thing foundered, broke its leg.’
‘Where?’
‘On the road back there,’ said de la Haye carelessly. ‘A’ cut its throat an’ rolled it in a ditch. Din’ want the damn routiers spottin’ it, gettin’ on my tail…” He blew his hands, held them out to the firebox, shivered dramatically inside his sheepskin coat. ‘Damn cold, Jesse, cold as a bitch… How far you go?’
‘Home. Durnovaria.’
De la Haye peered at him. ‘Hey, you don’ sound good. You sick, ol’Jesse?’
‘No.’
Col shook his arm insistently. ‘Whassamatter, ol’ pal? Anythin’ a friend can do to help?’
Jesse ignored him, eyes searching the road ahead. De la Haye bellowed suddenly with laughter. ‘Was the beer. The beer, no? OF Jesse, your stomach has shrunk!’ He held up a clenched fist. ‘Like the stomach of a li’l baby, no? Not the old Jesse any more; ah, life is hell…’
Jesse glanced down at the gauge, turned the belly tank cocks, heard water splash on the road, touched the injector controls, saw the burst of steam as the lifts fed the boiler. The pounding didn’t change its beat. He said steadily, ‘Reckon it must have bin the beer that done it. Reckon I might go on the waggon. Gettin’ old.’
De la Haye peered at him again, intently. ‘Jesse,’ he said. ‘You got problems, my son. You got troubles. What gives? C’mon, spill That damnable intuition hadn’t left him then. He’d had it right through college; seemed somehow to know what you were thinking nearly as soon as it came into your head. It was Col’s big weapon; he used it to have his way with women. Jesse laughed bitterly; and suddenly the story was coming out. He didn’t want to tell it; but he did, down to the last word. Once started, he couldn’t stop. Col heard him in silence; then he started to shake. The shaking was laughter. He leaned back against the cab side, holding onto a stanchion. ‘Jesse, Jesse, you are a lad. Christ, you never change… Oh, you bloody Saxon…’ He went off into fresh peals, wiped his eyes. ‘So… so she show you her pretty li’l scut, he? Jesse, you are a lad; when will you learn? What, you go to her with… with this…’ He banged the Margaret’s hornplate. ‘An’ your face so earnest an’ black, oh, Jesse, a’ can see that face of yours. Man, she don’ want your great iron destrier. Christ above, no… But a’… a’ tell you what you do…’ Jesse turned down the corners of his lips. ‘Why don’t you just shut up!’
De la Haye shook his arm. ‘Nah, listen. Don’ get mad, listen. You… woo her, Jesse; she like that, that one. You know? Get the ol’ glad rags on, man, get a butterfly car, mak’ its wings of cloth of gold. She like that… Only don’ stand no shovin’, ol’Jesse. An’ don’ ask her nothin’, not no more. You tell her what you want, say you goin’ to get it… Pay for your beer with a golden guinea, tell her you’ll tak’ the change upstairs, no? She’s worth it, Jesse, she’s worth havin’ is that one. Oh but she’s nice…’
‘Go to hell ‘You don’ want her?’ De la Haye looked hurt. ‘A’jus’ try to help, ol’ pal… You los’ interest now?’
‘Yeah,’ said Jesse. ‘I lost interest.’
‘Ahhh…’ Col sighed. ‘Ah, but is a shame. Young love all blighted… Tell you what though.’ He brightened. ‘You given me a great idea, ol’ Jesse. You don’ want her, a’ have her myself. OK?’
When you hear the wail that means your father’s dead your hands go on wiping down a crosshead guide. When the world turns red and flashes, and drums roll inside your skull, your eyes watch ahead at the road, your fingers stay quiet on the wheel. Jesse heard his own voice speak dryly. ‘You’re a lying bastard, Col, you always were. She wouldn’t fall for you…’
Col snapped his fingers, danced on the footplate. ‘Man, a’ got it halfway made. Oh but she’s nice… Those li’l eyes, they were flashin’ a bit las’ night, no? Is easy, man, easy… A’ tell you what, a’ bet she be sadistic in bed. But nice, ahhh, nice…’ His gestures somehow suggested rapture. ‘I tak’ her five ways in a night,’ he said. ‘An’ send you proof. O K?’ Maybe he doesn’t mean it. Maybe he’s lying. But he isn’t. I know Col; and Col doesn’t lie. Not about this. What he says he’ll do, he’ll do… Jesse grinned, just with his teeth. ‘You do that, Col. Break her in. Then I take her off you. OK?’
De la Haye laughed and gripped his shoulder. ‘Jesse, you are a lad. Eh…? Eh…?’ A light flashed briefly, ahead and to the right, way out on the heathland. Col spun round, stared at where it had been, looked back to Jesse. ‘You see that?’ Grimly. ‘I saw.’ De la Haye looked round the footplate nervously. ‘You got a gun?’ ‘Why?’ ‘The bloody light. The routiers…’ ‘You don’t fight the routiers with a gun.’ Col shook his head. ‘Man, I hope you know what you’re doin’…’
Jesse wrenched at the firebox doors, letting out a blaze of light and heat. ‘Stoke…"
‘What?’
‘Stoke!’
‘OK, man,’ said de la Haye. ‘All right, OK…’ He swung the shovel, building the fire. Kicked the doors shut, straightened up. ‘A’ love you an’ leave you soon,’ he said. ‘When we pass the light. If we pass the light…"
The signal, if it had been a signal, was not repeated. The heath stretched out empty and black. Ahead was a long series of ridges; the Lady Margaret bellowed heavily, breasting the first of them. Col stared round again uneasily, hung out the cab to look back along the train. The high shoulders of the tarps were vaguely visible in the night. ‘What you carryin’, Jesse?’ he asked. ‘You got the goods?’
Jesse shrugged. ‘Bulk stuff. Cattle cake, sugar, dried fruit. Not worth their trouble.’ De la Haye nodded worriedly. ‘Wha’s in the trail load?’
‘Brandy, some silks. Bit of tobacco. Veterinary supply. Animal castrators.’ He glanced sideways. ‘Cord grip. Bloodless.’
Col looked startled again, then started to laugh. ‘Jesse, you are a lad. A right bloody lad… But tha’s a good load, ol’ pal. Nice pickings…’
Jesse nodded, feeling empty. ‘Ten thousand quid’s worth. Give or take a few hundred.’ De la Haye whistled. ‘Yeah. Tha’s a good load…’
They passed the point where the light had appeared, left it behind. Nearly two hours out now, not much longer to run. The Margaret came off the downslope, hit the second rise. The moon slid clear of a cloud, showed the long ribbon of road stretching ahead. They were almost off the heath now, Durnovaria just over the horizon. Jesse saw a track running away to the left before the moon, veiling itself, gave the road back to darkness.
De la Haye gripped his shoulder. ‘You be fine now,’ he said. ‘We passed the bastards… You be all right. I drop off now, ol’ pal; thanks for th’ ride. An’ remember, ‘bout the li’l girl. You get in there punchin’, you do what a’ say. OK, ol’ Jesse?’ Jesse turned to stare at him. ‘Look after yourself, Col,’ he said.