Black Water Read Online Free PDF Page A

football, using white-painted saplings as goal posts. Farren and Robbie were onthe same team, playing in the back line. From the sideline Captain Gamble watched, striding along, avoiding the mud where possible, and waving his stick.
    ‘You are playing for your country!’ he shouted. ‘You must do the hard thing! Well marked, Mister Sparrow. Yes, play on! Good boy, Oleg.’
    Farren watched Oleg Schanker line up for goal, the sun shining on his face, turning his cheeks gold and his hair russet. Farren glanced sideways at Captain Gamble, and saw with something more than shock that he appeared to be wiping away tears.
    Farren heard boot connect with ball.
    ‘Good kick, Leggy!’ he yelled, moving off quickly. ‘Ripper goal, Leggy! Got ’em on toast now!’
    The football was retrieved, the game re-started, this time Robbie snaring the ball at the bounce then running backwards with it rather than forwards until he was standing in space as if he was playing keepings-off. The players stopped, the game mired in a state of muddy confusion. Farren saw Robbie laugh, his face split with a grin like a cut in a pumpkin.
    ‘Eh!’ He held the ball up. ‘If ya want it, boys, why don’tcha come’n bloody get it!’
    Robbie jogged on the spot, keen for the pursuit to start, which it did, skinny Knocker Thompson heading straight for him like an angry praying mantis. Next, Robbie simply handballed the football to Farren who handballed it straight back, Knocker veering from one to the other like a windmill on the move, arms and legs whirling.
    Robbie set off up the oval pursued by swearing cadets.
    ‘Can’t catch me!’ he shouted, taking off into the trees, leavingeveryone, apart from Farren who watched hands-on-knees, to shout at him as he jogged out into the sunshine on the other side.
    ‘I think that will do us,’ Captain Gamble said drily, Farren thoroughly relieved to see that he’d regained his composure. ‘For one reason or another.’
    Farren walked off the shadowy oval and went up the rear steps of the hall. As he glanced back he saw that far beyond the oval the paddocks had been picked out by the sun, green and brown, like rectangles of paint in a paint box.
    ‘And so the afternoon moves on, boys.’ Captain Gamble held out a bag of shoe rags to each cadet. ‘And the days they do disappear. What lies in store for us indeed?’
    ‘I think you said a short march, sir,’ said Robbie. ‘Then we could go home.’
    ‘I did say that, Mr Price, didn’t I?’ Captain Gamble took a rag for himself. ‘But perhaps we shall forego that and enjoy our afternoon instead. So let us clean our boots, boys, salute the flag, and depart.’
    Farren and Robbie bought a bottle of ginger beer each from Scanlon’s shop and walked down toward the water. Ahead, in the vacant land beside the pub, Farren was surprised to see Isla. She appeared to be talking to someone on the other side of the picket fence – or, at least, she appeared to be listening intently to the person who was talking to her.
    ‘That’s bloody old Derriweather ,’ Robbie said suddenly. ‘Talking to that sheila, there. Geez, I think the old charmer’s tryin’ to work his magic on a sunny Saturday afternoon.’
    Farren saw that it was his former teacher, Julian Derriweather,dressed in brown trousers and a white shirt, talking to Isla, his curly black hair bright in the sun.
    ‘Well, I dunno how,’ Farren observed. ‘Because that girl’s Isla from the wash-house and she’s deaf and dumb.’ He knew this was unfair. ‘Well, she can talk a bit, but not much. But,’ he added, ‘she’s a real good girl. And old Derri’s all right, too. But, gee, maybe you’re right. Maybe he is, ah, tryin’ to get friendly.’
    ‘I’m right, all right,’ said Robbie. ‘And old Derri’s all right, too – except that he doesn’t seem too keen on joinin’ the bloody army like the rest of the boys. And that ain’t right. Is it?’
    Farren had heard that Julian