sight. There followed a chorus of boos and another round of chanting and then there was another round of excited screams. I looked over the parapet and the kids were no longer looking in my direction. There at the poolside was another Captain Blood in an almost identical getup, this one waving a sword at them. I knew it was Tony. He legged it and the kids went charging after him.
I could see right across the resort: the playing fields, the offices and staff dorms, the blocks of chalets, the pool with its gay flags drooping in the windless heat of the day. I could also see the sandy beach beyond and the still blue sea rushing toward the vanishing point. The kids chased Tony down andat the crucial moment I would pop up so they would chase me. It was wonderful: Captain Blood had magic powers. But I made a foolish mistake and almost killed myself.
When the kids approached again looking for Captain Blood, I decided I would cross the roof and roar at them from the other side, but in order to do so I had to spring over a low wall running down the middle of the roof. I cocked my leg over the wall and was about to let go when I glanced down. Where I expected to see a flat roof inches under my foot, the ground thirty feet below flashed at me like the edge of a shiny blade. Down there stood the man in the blue suit and the boy. The man had his palm extended toward me.
In that moment it looked as though the man was reaching forward as if to grab me, to pull me, or at least to encourage me over the edge. The flat roof of what I took to be the same building was divided by a narrow alley. I hadn’t realized. I was horribly arrested with one leg dangling over the wall and my eye fixed on the man with the outstretched palm. A fraction of extra momentum would have taken me clean over.
Brought to my senses I staggered backward and lay down on the roof, holding my heart where it punched at my rib cage. If I had let go I would have fallen either to my death or to certain serious injury. I lay on my back for a long time, thinking about what had just happened. When I got up to look over the edge again, both man and boy had gone.
Finally I crept down from the building. The only thing that seemed to bring the game to an end was the midday heat and the cloud of bugs—ladybugs—that were starting to become a nuisance. We gave in. I allowed myself to be “caught” by the grown-ups and marched to the swimmingpool at the point of the sword. There I was made to walk the plank, or rather the diving board, into the swimming pool. It got a big cheer. The treasure chest of rock candy was dug up and the children were fed with red sugar.
Tony and Pinky took me for lunch. They told me I was no longer on probation. I hadn’t known that I was on probation. “You’re
one of us
,” Pinky said. I wasn’t certain whether that meant I was good at wearing an eye patch or at draping myself in the flag of St. George.
“Speaking of the old days, who’s polishing the brass?” Tony said, and Pinky looked glum. Nobody wanted to polish the brass, it seemed. Every Sunday afternoon the resort was visited by a brass or silver band representing a colliery or a village somewhere in the north of the country. The musicians traveled a long way by coach to play. All that was required of the Greencoats was to place deck chairs around the bandstand and then fold them up again after everyone had gone. It was hardly onerous and I said I’d do it.
Tony and Pinky looked at each other. “Why can’t they all be like you?” Pinky said. A ladybug settled on his brow and he seemed not to notice. “Where’s that fucking Nobby?”
I was very glad of the chance to sit still. I hadn’t felt right since I’d almost plunged to my death. The jolt had put the world out of joint. Meanwhile the brass band was a sadly outmoded feature of the entertainments program; notionally it was kept on “for the oldies” and in truth that’s who turned up to listen. The white-haired old
I could see right across the resort: the playing fields, the offices and staff dorms, the blocks of chalets, the pool with its gay flags drooping in the windless heat of the day. I could also see the sandy beach beyond and the still blue sea rushing toward the vanishing point. The kids chased Tony down andat the crucial moment I would pop up so they would chase me. It was wonderful: Captain Blood had magic powers. But I made a foolish mistake and almost killed myself.
When the kids approached again looking for Captain Blood, I decided I would cross the roof and roar at them from the other side, but in order to do so I had to spring over a low wall running down the middle of the roof. I cocked my leg over the wall and was about to let go when I glanced down. Where I expected to see a flat roof inches under my foot, the ground thirty feet below flashed at me like the edge of a shiny blade. Down there stood the man in the blue suit and the boy. The man had his palm extended toward me.
In that moment it looked as though the man was reaching forward as if to grab me, to pull me, or at least to encourage me over the edge. The flat roof of what I took to be the same building was divided by a narrow alley. I hadn’t realized. I was horribly arrested with one leg dangling over the wall and my eye fixed on the man with the outstretched palm. A fraction of extra momentum would have taken me clean over.
Brought to my senses I staggered backward and lay down on the roof, holding my heart where it punched at my rib cage. If I had let go I would have fallen either to my death or to certain serious injury. I lay on my back for a long time, thinking about what had just happened. When I got up to look over the edge again, both man and boy had gone.
Finally I crept down from the building. The only thing that seemed to bring the game to an end was the midday heat and the cloud of bugs—ladybugs—that were starting to become a nuisance. We gave in. I allowed myself to be “caught” by the grown-ups and marched to the swimmingpool at the point of the sword. There I was made to walk the plank, or rather the diving board, into the swimming pool. It got a big cheer. The treasure chest of rock candy was dug up and the children were fed with red sugar.
Tony and Pinky took me for lunch. They told me I was no longer on probation. I hadn’t known that I was on probation. “You’re
one of us
,” Pinky said. I wasn’t certain whether that meant I was good at wearing an eye patch or at draping myself in the flag of St. George.
“Speaking of the old days, who’s polishing the brass?” Tony said, and Pinky looked glum. Nobody wanted to polish the brass, it seemed. Every Sunday afternoon the resort was visited by a brass or silver band representing a colliery or a village somewhere in the north of the country. The musicians traveled a long way by coach to play. All that was required of the Greencoats was to place deck chairs around the bandstand and then fold them up again after everyone had gone. It was hardly onerous and I said I’d do it.
Tony and Pinky looked at each other. “Why can’t they all be like you?” Pinky said. A ladybug settled on his brow and he seemed not to notice. “Where’s that fucking Nobby?”
I was very glad of the chance to sit still. I hadn’t felt right since I’d almost plunged to my death. The jolt had put the world out of joint. Meanwhile the brass band was a sadly outmoded feature of the entertainments program; notionally it was kept on “for the oldies” and in truth that’s who turned up to listen. The white-haired old
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