Free Spinner by Ron Elliott Page B

empty sacks and some of their clothes into a makeshift bed.
    David looked out at the hotel and back again, before he finally said, ‘We’ve got no money?’
    â€˜Jack Tanner got most of it. I got a little for the old cricket balls and matting.’
    David started to take his boots off.
    Uncle Mike said, ‘The second Test starts soon.’
    â€˜In Melbourne,’ said David, brightening. ‘How do you think we’ll go?’
    â€˜We’re gunna get killed.’
    â€˜Grandad says they are formidable.’
    â€˜Yep. And we don’t have a spinner worth a damn.’
    David smiled and looked at his uncle, but he was lying down, with his back to him. David thought of grabbing a bit of his uncle’s coat over him, but the night was hot with barely a breeze.
    â€˜Don’t we just need better batsmen?’
    â€˜The Australian team’s paltry scores of a hundred and twenty-three and eighty-four contributing to your thinking there?’
    â€˜If paltry means bad.’
    â€˜Hmm. But what did England make in their first knock?’
    â€˜Six hundred and twenty-three.’
    â€˜Seems to me there are two ways of looking at that particular problem. It would be good to turn up a couple ofbrilliant batsmen just lying around the country. But it would be pretty useful to the existing team to keep England from scoring such a whopping big total too.’
    â€˜Yes.’
    Up in the rafters of the shed were mice. David watched their silhouettes scamper and chase. He thought maybe city mice were the same as country mice in their habit of playing about in the dark.
    In the morning, they took their bags and caught the train to the city. David looked out from the station at the crowds of people dodging cars, trucks and trams on the street in Perth. There was a man in rolled-up shirt sleeves, standing outside the station holding up a sign which said ‘Out of work.’ The men in suits passed without stopping to read it. Ladies in bright dresses looked away as they pushed their wicker baby carriages. A taxicab driver was trying to crank his car engine into life, but it didn’t seem to want to go. Car horns squawked, brakes squeaked, gear boxes groaned and engines coughed. Perth was noisy and smelt of petrol fumes and smoke.
    â€˜Come on Davey,’ said Uncle Mike, ‘we gotta get down to the WACA.’
    â€˜I’m hungry.’
    â€˜I know one or two men down at the cricket ground. They’ll spot us for a feed.’
    David felt jostled by yet another passenger and pushed himself back against the station wall. Other passengers coming up from the trains didn’t seem to mind all the pushing and bumping.
    Uncle Mike looked like he might get angry but then fished in his pocket. His hand came up with a few coins which helooked at without much enthusiasm. ‘Let’s see. Four bob, and ... not much more.’ Michael looked at David a moment. ‘Well, you’re right. Can’t bowl on an empty stomach. Come on. We’ll get breakfast here at the station. They say, in England, that breakfast is the most important meal of the day. In France they eat sweet buns and chocolate for their breakfast, which seems to go on most of the day.’
    David followed his uncle back into the station.
    â€˜You ever thought about that word? Breakfast. It breaks the fast of the night, you see. A fast is a period of non-eating. In some places around the world, they fast for days. Not cos they’re poor. Believe it’s good for the soul. Other places of course, they fast for longer and die. That’s cos there’s nothin’ to eat, because the czars eat it all, but we won’t go into that this morning.’
    When they were seated with a pot of tea and toast and a bun at the railway station cafeteria, David asked, ‘Are you a teacher?’
    â€˜A teacher?’
    â€˜Sometimes you talk like a teacher.’
    â€˜Oh dear. Sorry.’ His uncle