at the top so does that mean it’s the most important thing?’
‘I don’t think so,’ I said. ‘I was just trying to be logical about writing things down.’
‘It’s important though,’ said Javed. ‘It means that he came first.’
‘Well, he did. He was the first one I saw. What’s the significance of that?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Javed. ‘But this is how you do it. You go through everything and you ask questions about it, even if it doesn’t seem relevant. It might be, later.’
‘OK,’ I said. ‘So the white horseman comes first.’
‘Who is he?’ said Alex.
‘I don’t know.’
‘He wears a crown, though. That must mean something. Is he a king?’
‘No,’ I said, without thinking about it. ‘Or at least, I suppose he might be.’
‘He must be if he’s wearing a crown.’
‘I suppose so. But he didn’t look like a king. The crown wasn’t exactly like that. It was more like … I don’t know. It was kind of silver leaves intertwined. He looked more like a Roman emperor or something.’
‘An emperor, then,’ said Javed. ‘Does that work better?’
‘Definitely,’ I said.
‘OK. So what about the other guy? What about him?’
‘He was much rougher,’ I said. ‘The white rider looked really wealthy but the red one was dirt poor.’
‘Would he have worked for him, maybe?’ said Alex.
With a sudden flash of inspiration it became clear to me. ‘He’s a rebel. He’s angry, his horse is thin and nervous. The emperor is ruling his land and he’s rebelling.’
‘A freedom fighter,’ said Javed.
‘So were they fighting each other?’ said Alex.
I shook my head. ‘No. But it still fits. It’s like they’re showing us two sides of the same coin or something.’
The boys seemed to accept this analysis, but the sense of satisfaction it brought me was short-lived.
‘And so what?’ I said. ‘Even if that’s what it means, so what? What does that have to do with Dad and the squirrel project?’
Nobody could answer that, and that was the end of it, our analysis session. I don’t know whether it had got us anywhere or not, but that night I dreamed about the white horseman. He was enormous; straddling the world. I could see the curve of the horizon under the horse’s belly and the blue glint of the oceans. There were flies around him, like there had been in the woods, but when one of them flew close to me I saw it wasn’t a fly at all, but a war plane. They all were. There were thousands of them, clouding the air; the show of force of a huge, dominant power. As for the red horseman, I couldn’t see him at all. But I knew he was there, waiting in the wings, nurturing his own hidden forces of destruction.
12
I T WAS HARD FOR me to concentrate at school over the following days. I couldn’t find any enthusiasm, even for my favourite subjects, and I’m sure some of the teachers noticed that I was quieter than usual. No one said anything, though, and I did my best to keep up, even when my mind was miles away.
On Thursday I took my old transistor radio into school. I had a much smaller one but it didn’t get Long Wave, so it was no good for listening to the cricket on Radio Four. It was harder to hide, but it fitted into my school bag and I was able to sneak it out and into a quiet corner of the yard during our morning break.
Alex and I, along with one or two other cricket fans, were listening to the first of the one-day internationals. That was how we became the first ones in the school to hear about what had happened that morning in Birmingham. The commentators kept referring to the morning’s ‘events’ and promising to keep listeners informed of any developments. We turned over to the FM channel and learned that four bombs had gone off in the centre of the city.
I went to the staff room and told the teachers there, and they turned on the TV and got the latest news. There was nothing new about terrorist attacks in England those days. There had been
‘I don’t think so,’ I said. ‘I was just trying to be logical about writing things down.’
‘It’s important though,’ said Javed. ‘It means that he came first.’
‘Well, he did. He was the first one I saw. What’s the significance of that?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Javed. ‘But this is how you do it. You go through everything and you ask questions about it, even if it doesn’t seem relevant. It might be, later.’
‘OK,’ I said. ‘So the white horseman comes first.’
‘Who is he?’ said Alex.
‘I don’t know.’
‘He wears a crown, though. That must mean something. Is he a king?’
‘No,’ I said, without thinking about it. ‘Or at least, I suppose he might be.’
‘He must be if he’s wearing a crown.’
‘I suppose so. But he didn’t look like a king. The crown wasn’t exactly like that. It was more like … I don’t know. It was kind of silver leaves intertwined. He looked more like a Roman emperor or something.’
‘An emperor, then,’ said Javed. ‘Does that work better?’
‘Definitely,’ I said.
‘OK. So what about the other guy? What about him?’
‘He was much rougher,’ I said. ‘The white rider looked really wealthy but the red one was dirt poor.’
‘Would he have worked for him, maybe?’ said Alex.
With a sudden flash of inspiration it became clear to me. ‘He’s a rebel. He’s angry, his horse is thin and nervous. The emperor is ruling his land and he’s rebelling.’
‘A freedom fighter,’ said Javed.
‘So were they fighting each other?’ said Alex.
I shook my head. ‘No. But it still fits. It’s like they’re showing us two sides of the same coin or something.’
The boys seemed to accept this analysis, but the sense of satisfaction it brought me was short-lived.
‘And so what?’ I said. ‘Even if that’s what it means, so what? What does that have to do with Dad and the squirrel project?’
Nobody could answer that, and that was the end of it, our analysis session. I don’t know whether it had got us anywhere or not, but that night I dreamed about the white horseman. He was enormous; straddling the world. I could see the curve of the horizon under the horse’s belly and the blue glint of the oceans. There were flies around him, like there had been in the woods, but when one of them flew close to me I saw it wasn’t a fly at all, but a war plane. They all were. There were thousands of them, clouding the air; the show of force of a huge, dominant power. As for the red horseman, I couldn’t see him at all. But I knew he was there, waiting in the wings, nurturing his own hidden forces of destruction.
12
I T WAS HARD FOR me to concentrate at school over the following days. I couldn’t find any enthusiasm, even for my favourite subjects, and I’m sure some of the teachers noticed that I was quieter than usual. No one said anything, though, and I did my best to keep up, even when my mind was miles away.
On Thursday I took my old transistor radio into school. I had a much smaller one but it didn’t get Long Wave, so it was no good for listening to the cricket on Radio Four. It was harder to hide, but it fitted into my school bag and I was able to sneak it out and into a quiet corner of the yard during our morning break.
Alex and I, along with one or two other cricket fans, were listening to the first of the one-day internationals. That was how we became the first ones in the school to hear about what had happened that morning in Birmingham. The commentators kept referring to the morning’s ‘events’ and promising to keep listeners informed of any developments. We turned over to the FM channel and learned that four bombs had gone off in the centre of the city.
I went to the staff room and told the teachers there, and they turned on the TV and got the latest news. There was nothing new about terrorist attacks in England those days. There had been
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