The Thief of Time by John Boyne

you,’ I said.
    â€˜Thank ‘ee.’
    â€˜When do you think your arrangements will be made then?’
    He paused and the smile seemed to fade slightly. ‘Someday soon,’ he said. ‘There has been a ...’ – he searched for the right word – ‘a complication. But I expect it will be solved soon enough.’
    â€˜AH romances are complicated,’ I said cheerily, seventeen years old, once loved, and behaving for all my worth like a man of the world. T expect their resolutions make the complications all the more worthwhile in the end.’
    â€˜Aye, I expect so,’ he said. He opened and closed his mouth several times and I guessed he was trying to tell me something but was unsure of how to begin or whether he even wanted to discuss it or not. I said nothing and stared ahead, closing my eyes for a moment to relax myself, when I heard his voice again, louder now, and without any of its previous good humour. T known Jane – that’s her name, you see, Jane – I known her a good eight year now and we’ve been under something of an understanding to each other, you see. Sometimes I takes her for walks and sometimes I visit her of an afternoon and bring her a fancy something which she always takes with great pleasure. We made a haystack once, in the summer, two year back. Six feet high, it was. Taller than me.’ I nodded and looked at him. In profile, his head was nodding and I could see a glisten in his eyes as he spoke of her.
    â€˜Sounds like quite the courtship,’ I said in order to appear agreeable.
    â€˜It has been,’ he agreed heartily. ‘No question that it has been. She’s a very able girl, you see.’ I nodded, although I hadn’t the faintest idea what he meant by that phrase. ‘Now she’s trying to distance herself from some army fellow who’s come through. Made himself a little forward with her and I know that she don’t like him much but can’t find the way to tell him to leave her alone. With him fighting for king and country and all that. And just passing through. He cant stay long.’
    â€˜Nuisance,’ I muttered.
    â€˜Takes her for walks every afternoon,’ he continued, ignoring me as if I wasn’t in the cart at all. ‘Down by the river once, I heard. Visits her and likes to sing with piano, if you can believe it, the nance. You’ll not find me singing at her, sir. Not a bit of it. Needs to pack his bags and get on with himself, that’s what I think. Stop bothering her. She’s too polite, though, you see. Too polite to tell him to be on his way. Humours him. Goes for her walks with him. Listens to his pretty voice. Makes him tea and listens to his talk of adventures in Scotland, if you please. Some might say, unkind folk, that she’s leading the poor blighter on, but I say he should just pack his bags and go, that’s all. It’s her and me who are under a commitment.’
    His face was quite red now and his hands shook as he held the reins. I nodded but said nothing, seeing only too well the situation which was taking place in Bramling. I felt sorry for him but my mind was elsewhere already. I was thinking about the morning, about how we would still have a long way to travel after our sleep. About London. The night grew around us and we all fell silent. I thought of my prostitutes in Dover and drifted away with happy thoughts of them, wishing I could be there at that moment with a few pennies in my pocket to spend, and would have happily closed my eyes to dream of our encounters had not the horse come to an abrupt stop with Furlong’s cry and we all four sat up suddenly. We had arrived at our resting place for the night.
    It was a small barn but we all fitted in comfortably. It smelled of cattle although there were none to be seen now. ‘They milk them here, during the day, one by one,’ said Furlong. ‘There’s a farm a mile up the road