following the chatter that ensued. He picked out some words such as spy and prisoner and though not intimidated by a posse of children whose ages ranged from twelve down to four, he knew that any explanation of what he happened to be doing there (even supposing he could think of one) would be totally unconvincing to such an audience, especially when delivered in a funny accent like his own. He was dimly conscious of having seen the two eldest children on the school bus.
‘ Seen you on the school bus,’ claimed one of them in sudden triumph.
Suddenly Fox appeared at his elbow, to his intense surprise … and relief. Here was Fox, ready to take charge and sort out the situation. ‘ Let him alone,’ he addressed the children. C’est mon p’tit-loup, mon copain.’ My kid, my mate. Adam took all the nuances of this public announcement on board and was touched.
‘ You don’t have any mates,’ said one of the younger children, aged perhaps seven, with the withering honesty of that age. There was laughter from one or two of the others.
‘ You’re so wrong,’ said Fox. ‘I have now.’
‘ You’re crazy, Sylvain.’
Sylvain. So Fox had a name after all. He was not just a fantasy figure, a woodland faun, but a human being with a family and all the humdrum paraphernalia of human existence that went with it.
Adam was suddenly very conscious of being in two strange situations at once. First, he was surrounded by a group of unfamiliar children and dogs: a situation in which he felt extremely uncomfortable, though hardly threatened. And then, he was in the company of Fox, now Sylvain, and discovering that he had never wanted to be in anyone’s company quite so much before in his life. He was on the point of calling out childishly to Sylvain something along the lines of: take me with you ; only Sylvain spared him the embarrassment by doing just that. He put an arm on his shoulder in a hearty sort of way, propelling him forward with it just as he had done on their first meeting when he wanted to show Adam the daffodils, and said ‘Allez, viens’. He marched Adam right at the wall of little brothers and sisters that faced them, and the wall fragmented, scattered and vanished, dogs and all, at their approach. He kept his arm around Adam’s shoulders even after the children had gone. ‘ Now,’ he said, ‘it’s just you and me.’
They made a few more purposeful strides together in silence and then stopped with one accord as it dawned on them both at the same moment that they did not know where they were going. Sylvain turned and looked cautiously into Adam’s eyes, not taking his acquiescence for granted and said, ‘I’ve got some damson spirit up in the barn. Do you want to try some?’
‘ In the barn? How do we get there? On the elevator?’ He imagined them riding up together on the grain-loader he had just seen in operation, in full view of the farmhouse.
‘ You’re joking. Someone has to start it up and switch it off at the bottom. We couldn’t stop it once we’d got to the top. Attract attention, that would,’ Sylvain said seriously. Then he paused. ‘ Mind you, my folks don’t mind who I bring back and anyway, I do what I want. So …’ There was another pause while he reconsidered this bit of bravado. ‘ No. I’ve got a better idea. There’s a way round to the back of the barn. No-one’d see us if we went that way.’
They tacked across the pasture, keeping below the crown of the field, descended into a spinney and then came out at the stream a little below the place where the farmyard ducks were paddling. From here they circled slowly upwards, screened from the farmyard by trees. From time to time Adam’s gumboots slipped and slithered where spring-water made the ground unexpectedly boggy. ‘Don’t stagger around like that,’ said Sylvain. ‘You really will attract attention.’ Adam giggled. Had Sylvain told him to beware landmines and sniper fire he would hardly have been
‘ Seen you on the school bus,’ claimed one of them in sudden triumph.
Suddenly Fox appeared at his elbow, to his intense surprise … and relief. Here was Fox, ready to take charge and sort out the situation. ‘ Let him alone,’ he addressed the children. C’est mon p’tit-loup, mon copain.’ My kid, my mate. Adam took all the nuances of this public announcement on board and was touched.
‘ You don’t have any mates,’ said one of the younger children, aged perhaps seven, with the withering honesty of that age. There was laughter from one or two of the others.
‘ You’re so wrong,’ said Fox. ‘I have now.’
‘ You’re crazy, Sylvain.’
Sylvain. So Fox had a name after all. He was not just a fantasy figure, a woodland faun, but a human being with a family and all the humdrum paraphernalia of human existence that went with it.
Adam was suddenly very conscious of being in two strange situations at once. First, he was surrounded by a group of unfamiliar children and dogs: a situation in which he felt extremely uncomfortable, though hardly threatened. And then, he was in the company of Fox, now Sylvain, and discovering that he had never wanted to be in anyone’s company quite so much before in his life. He was on the point of calling out childishly to Sylvain something along the lines of: take me with you ; only Sylvain spared him the embarrassment by doing just that. He put an arm on his shoulder in a hearty sort of way, propelling him forward with it just as he had done on their first meeting when he wanted to show Adam the daffodils, and said ‘Allez, viens’. He marched Adam right at the wall of little brothers and sisters that faced them, and the wall fragmented, scattered and vanished, dogs and all, at their approach. He kept his arm around Adam’s shoulders even after the children had gone. ‘ Now,’ he said, ‘it’s just you and me.’
They made a few more purposeful strides together in silence and then stopped with one accord as it dawned on them both at the same moment that they did not know where they were going. Sylvain turned and looked cautiously into Adam’s eyes, not taking his acquiescence for granted and said, ‘I’ve got some damson spirit up in the barn. Do you want to try some?’
‘ In the barn? How do we get there? On the elevator?’ He imagined them riding up together on the grain-loader he had just seen in operation, in full view of the farmhouse.
‘ You’re joking. Someone has to start it up and switch it off at the bottom. We couldn’t stop it once we’d got to the top. Attract attention, that would,’ Sylvain said seriously. Then he paused. ‘ Mind you, my folks don’t mind who I bring back and anyway, I do what I want. So …’ There was another pause while he reconsidered this bit of bravado. ‘ No. I’ve got a better idea. There’s a way round to the back of the barn. No-one’d see us if we went that way.’
They tacked across the pasture, keeping below the crown of the field, descended into a spinney and then came out at the stream a little below the place where the farmyard ducks were paddling. From here they circled slowly upwards, screened from the farmyard by trees. From time to time Adam’s gumboots slipped and slithered where spring-water made the ground unexpectedly boggy. ‘Don’t stagger around like that,’ said Sylvain. ‘You really will attract attention.’ Adam giggled. Had Sylvain told him to beware landmines and sniper fire he would hardly have been
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