Thunder to be nothing but a bogeyman.
Unlike his family, Daniel had been content to dismiss the story of Old Man Thunder from an early age. He had believed in his grandfather’s rebuttal, and seen nothing in the mountains to
question it. Only when Finn was born did the details of the legend creep back into his thinkings. In the first months of his life, Daniel had watched nervously as Betty nursed this bawling, wizened
creature, and he had thought that it matched very well the angry, bald-headed devil of folklore.
Clearly he had done a bad job of hiding such fears, for one night Betty had sat him down and held his hand and said, ‘Nothing in the world is ever like you think it’s going to
be,’ and that maxim had dropped into his thoughts like an anchor and he had again put Old Man Thunder out of his mind. Yet here was Sidney Moses, dragging him back out again.
‘No,’ said Daniel. ‘It is a waste of all our times to look for him.’
Sidney had been watching him studiously. For a moment his mouth looked full of venom, but then he managed to smile and gently laid a wad of papers on the homestead table. ‘I
disagree,’ he said, ‘and I hope to bring you round. For now, please consider these documents a favour. To help you file your reports.’ He put his hat back on his head and tipped
it. ‘Good morning, Mr Fossiter.’
Daniel nodded, and Sidney left him. He closed the door and bolted it, then took a cursory look at the papers Sidney had left. He had prepared row after row of boxes he expected Daniel to tick.
Records of goats shot and trapped. Wild dogs sighted. Expenses incurred. Daniel spat on the sheets and prayed for a rockslide to tip down on Sidney, his report books, and eliminate every final
trace of him.
After making sure that Mole was comfortable, Daniel filled a sack of groceries and with this and the fifty sheets of rolled white paper headed out for Old Colp. He did not take the direct path
from Thunderstown, but instead embarked south into the Merrow Wold. Only once he was some distance from the town did he turn northwest and climb Old Colp’s slopes from that oblique direction.
This was his habit whenever he visited Finn, for he did not want a man like Sidney Moses to know where he was going. Should Sidney discover Finn, well ... he feared how things would turn out.
When at last he reached the bothy, the sun and the banded clouds dropped stripes of shadow across the dirt and the bluff the cottage backed up against. Crickets rattled in the grass, and when he
knocked on the door a yellow bird shot up from the eaves and flew away with a corkscrewing bent.
He crossed his fingers and hoped that Finn would not be home. Then this awkward duty would have been avoided once again. He would leave his delivery of groceries and paper by way of a calling
card.
Today he was unlucky. He heard the handle turn, and then the door to the bothy opened.
A lifetime spent tracking beasts had made Daniel keenly observant, so he did not miss the enthusiasm on Finn’s face when he answered. It promptly dropped away, as if he had been expecting
someone else. They greeted each other civilly, but when Daniel entered the shelter he sniffed the air as if he might smell an intruder. Nothing, and he wished Mole were young and well and with him.
He took the groceries straight to the kitchenette corner, wondering why on earth the two of them still did this. Neither could conceal their disdain for these occasions. He dumped most of the
supplies directly into Finn’s cupboard and vegetable basket, then selected two plates (remembering how he and Betty had once eaten off these plates amid laughter) and carried them to the
table along with a bunch of carrots still speckled with soil, a loaf of bread that yesterday had been fresh and springy but today had staled, and a tub of a vegetable pâté he had
bought from Sally Nairn in Auger Lane.
They sat down to lunch at the table, but both positioned their chairs
Unlike his family, Daniel had been content to dismiss the story of Old Man Thunder from an early age. He had believed in his grandfather’s rebuttal, and seen nothing in the mountains to
question it. Only when Finn was born did the details of the legend creep back into his thinkings. In the first months of his life, Daniel had watched nervously as Betty nursed this bawling, wizened
creature, and he had thought that it matched very well the angry, bald-headed devil of folklore.
Clearly he had done a bad job of hiding such fears, for one night Betty had sat him down and held his hand and said, ‘Nothing in the world is ever like you think it’s going to
be,’ and that maxim had dropped into his thoughts like an anchor and he had again put Old Man Thunder out of his mind. Yet here was Sidney Moses, dragging him back out again.
‘No,’ said Daniel. ‘It is a waste of all our times to look for him.’
Sidney had been watching him studiously. For a moment his mouth looked full of venom, but then he managed to smile and gently laid a wad of papers on the homestead table. ‘I
disagree,’ he said, ‘and I hope to bring you round. For now, please consider these documents a favour. To help you file your reports.’ He put his hat back on his head and tipped
it. ‘Good morning, Mr Fossiter.’
Daniel nodded, and Sidney left him. He closed the door and bolted it, then took a cursory look at the papers Sidney had left. He had prepared row after row of boxes he expected Daniel to tick.
Records of goats shot and trapped. Wild dogs sighted. Expenses incurred. Daniel spat on the sheets and prayed for a rockslide to tip down on Sidney, his report books, and eliminate every final
trace of him.
After making sure that Mole was comfortable, Daniel filled a sack of groceries and with this and the fifty sheets of rolled white paper headed out for Old Colp. He did not take the direct path
from Thunderstown, but instead embarked south into the Merrow Wold. Only once he was some distance from the town did he turn northwest and climb Old Colp’s slopes from that oblique direction.
This was his habit whenever he visited Finn, for he did not want a man like Sidney Moses to know where he was going. Should Sidney discover Finn, well ... he feared how things would turn out.
When at last he reached the bothy, the sun and the banded clouds dropped stripes of shadow across the dirt and the bluff the cottage backed up against. Crickets rattled in the grass, and when he
knocked on the door a yellow bird shot up from the eaves and flew away with a corkscrewing bent.
He crossed his fingers and hoped that Finn would not be home. Then this awkward duty would have been avoided once again. He would leave his delivery of groceries and paper by way of a calling
card.
Today he was unlucky. He heard the handle turn, and then the door to the bothy opened.
A lifetime spent tracking beasts had made Daniel keenly observant, so he did not miss the enthusiasm on Finn’s face when he answered. It promptly dropped away, as if he had been expecting
someone else. They greeted each other civilly, but when Daniel entered the shelter he sniffed the air as if he might smell an intruder. Nothing, and he wished Mole were young and well and with him.
He took the groceries straight to the kitchenette corner, wondering why on earth the two of them still did this. Neither could conceal their disdain for these occasions. He dumped most of the
supplies directly into Finn’s cupboard and vegetable basket, then selected two plates (remembering how he and Betty had once eaten off these plates amid laughter) and carried them to the
table along with a bunch of carrots still speckled with soil, a loaf of bread that yesterday had been fresh and springy but today had staled, and a tub of a vegetable pâté he had
bought from Sally Nairn in Auger Lane.
They sat down to lunch at the table, but both positioned their chairs
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