The Old Wine Shades Read Online Free PDF Page A

regular hours.
    His dog Sparky had probably saved Jury’s life because he had led the others to him.
    Sparky. Now, if it had been Sparky sniffing round that house in Surrey, he’d have turned up something. But he shouldn’t be hard on Mungo; no, Mungo was far from dumb.
    He watched the Thames and the glitter of lights reflected along its surface, cast by the National Theater and the South Bank.
    Jury walked down the stone steps to the wide space under the bridge where several of the London homeless had set up house. Of course they had to take it all down in the morning and leave or the police would be all over them. But that didn’t cramp their style; Jury got the idea they considered themselves quite fortunate to have this area under the bridge for their own, nights.
    ‘Oh, Christ,’ said Mags (the first one he came to), ‘if it ain’t the Filth again. I calls it police harassment.’
    Jury said, ‘Last time I was here was in January, Mags. Does that seem very harassing? It’s March now.’
    ‘The Ides of.’ Her tone was churlish. ‘That fookin’ Caesar ‘ad ‘is work cut out for ‘im, din’t ‘e?’
    ‘Well, I lay no claim to being Caesar.’
    ‘Good thing.’ Megs’s laugh came from some deep and abiding resource within her body. It was hard to make the body out, given layers of skirts and shawls. She had made a fire in a big tin canister and was stirring something in a pot.
    ‘So, it’s gonna be once every couple mumfs you come down ‘ere? I’ll go get me ‘air done next time.’
    ‘You were never lovelier. Where are Benny and Sparky?’
    ‘Up to no good, unlike the rest o’ us law-abidin’ cit’zens.’
    ‘When did you last see him?’
    ‘‘Bout fifteen minutes ago. Said he was goin’ up t’ that McDonald’s near Charing Cross. He did good today wi’f his route.’  
    Jury looked around. ‘Where is everyone?’
    ‘Dunno.’
    There were ordinarily at least a half dozen here with bedrolls and blankets, and upward of a dozen who came and went at one time or another. It was (Jury had said) an ‘accommodation address,’ the accommodation being supplied by police who turned a blind eye as long as they were out of here the next morning with their blankets and bedrolls and pots and pans.
    ‘Has Benny still got his same delivery jobs over in Southwark?’ He nodded toward the South Bank.
    ‘‘Course. That lad don’t know how lucky ‘e is ‘avin’ a steady job.’
    ‘Oh, I think he knows.’ Jury turned at the sound of a bark, cut off as if the dog had sucked it back into his throat. A dead white blur ran down the steps. Sparky. He was followed by Benny, the second half of the team who had saved Jury’s life.
    ‘Hey, Mr. Jury!’
    ‘Hi, Benny. How are you keeping?’
    ‘Same old, same old,’ said Benny, hooking his thumbs in his jeans pockets. Benny liked American banalities.
    Jury smiled. Bernard Keegan, boy of the world. Well, the boy was, actually. Benny had been on his own and on the streets for years; even now he was only eleven or twelve. ‘You deliver for the same people, like Gyp?’
    ‘Tell the truth, old Gyp don’t, doesn’t, talk to me and Sparky like he used to do. He kinda keeps his distance. But he still gives out evil looks.’
    ‘You don’t have to work for him, you know.’
    ‘Yeah, well t’ way I see it, if you give up because someone’s mean to you, a person wouldn’t get very far, and always would be subservant.’
    Jury knew Benny was especially pleased with ‘subservant.’ He liked new words (even if he didn’t get them right), long ones you could ‘really get your mouth around’ was the way he’d put it. It made a person sound more ‘edge-ecated.’
    They were sitting side by side on one of the cold stone steps.
    Sparky went around in circles.
    ‘Why does he do that?’
    ‘Oh, that’s just when he gets excited. It’s because you’re here. Sparky always liked you.’
    Jury studied Sparky, who now had stopped circling and was sitting