Pecking Order Read Online Free PDF

morning.’
    Oliver checked how many were in the pan before answering. ‘Oh, two please. Are they from your farm?’
    Mrs Wicks smiled again. ‘Not the big farm over the road. We have a coop in the grounds here, near the front lake. It’s too far to walk over to the main farm every morning.’
    Oliver nodded as she slid two eggs onto his plate and deposited the other two on her son’s. After lowering the lid on the Aga’s hob, she placed the frying pan to the side and sat down on a stool by the wooden work surface. Picking up a cup of coffee, she began tapping on its side with a bright pink fingernail. ‘So Oliver, how are you enjoying it at Cranbourne?’
    ‘It’s great. Even though I’m in the same house as my brother Charles.’
    ‘Isn’t that good?’
    ‘No,’ Oliver scowled. ‘He’s a monitor and makes me clean his shoes.’
    ‘That’s not very brotherly. I didn’t realise that sort of thing went on. Do you have to clean anyone’s shoes Toby?’
    Her son looked up from his plate. ‘No.’
    ‘Oh good.’
    Oliver piped up again. ‘When my father was at Cranbourne there was a proper fagging system. He was beaten by the monitors if he didn’t clean their normal shoes, cricket shoes and rugby boots.’
    ‘How awful,’ replied Mrs Wicks.
    ‘Didn’t Mr Wicks go to Cranbourne? He could tell you about it.’
    Once again, Mrs Wicks smiled. ‘No, Alan didn’t.’ She walked towards the trough-sized sink. ‘In fact, Toby’s the first in the family to go there, aren’t you Tubby?’
    Oliver widened his eyes and looked at the other boy. Tubby? he mouthed silently, a smile spreading over his face.
    ‘Mum!’ complained Toby through a mouthful of food. ‘Don’t call me that.’
    Mrs Wicks turned around and Oliver quickly lowered his head to hide his mocking grin.
    ‘Sorry darling. I meant Toby. Now, once you two are dressed, can you pop the bags of shopping over to Rubble’s? They’re in the pantry by the tumble dryer. Then come straight back – I want to set off by eleven-thirty.’
    Toby nodded and flashed an upright thumb at his friend, ‘OK mum, will do.’
     
    Their feet crunched on the gravel as they walked past the gleaming pair of Range Rovers and up the drive. Water splashed form a female nude, the droplets cascading into the raised pond.
    ‘Nice tits hey?’ said Toby nodding at the statue.
    Oliver stepped on the grass for a closer look. Then, seeing the mottled orange shapes in the water said, ‘Cool! Koi carp, and they’re monsters!’
    ‘Yeah,’ replied Toby, swapping the bag of shopping to his other hand. ‘Dad had to put the net over the water last summer. Herons took three in one day. Dad said the birds cost him six hundred quid, nearly got Rubble over to shoot them.’
    ‘So your farm, where this Rubble lives, it’s just on the other side of the road?’
    ‘Uh huh,’ replied Toby, ‘over there.’ He pointed to his left.
    ‘And who is this Rubble?’
    Toby smiled. ‘He’s a right mong. The village idiot. Dad employs him on the farm – he lives in a caravan at the bottom of a field.’
    ‘How come your mum does his shopping?’
    ‘Don’t know – she always has. Probably because he’s too thick to do it on his own. Honestly, you’ve never met anyone like Rubble. He’s a caveman. Just wait.”
    Oliver frowned, puzzling over the information. After a while they reached the track just before the farm’s main driveway. ‘He lives down here,’ said Toby setting off along the narrow lane. A few minutes later they caught sight of the caravan through the trees, a pigeon cooing softly somewhere above them. Toby peered between the trunks and saw smoke curling up from behind a six-foot-high fence. ‘He’ll be over at the incinerator, come on.’ He picked his way between the beech trees, and as they approached the fence, both boys could hear the scraping of metal and a toneless humming coming from behind it.
    Allowing a singsong tone into his voice, as if he were