Free Lamb by Bernard Maclaverty Page B

followed by a second’s silence. Then they heard squeals and cries and laughter.
    â€˜Would you like to go in?’ he said to Owen. The boy nodded a slow definite no.
    â€˜I could ask whoever is running it.’
    â€˜I’d hate it.’
    Again the music stopped, the stunned silence, the screaming.
    â€˜Come on, I’m going to make you go in. All those nice wee girls? Come on, you’ll love it.’
    He took the boy by the arm and Owen began to fight him. He struggled and kicked and punched.
    â€˜I don’t wanna go,’ he shouted. Michael saw that there were tears of embarrassment in his eyes and he stopped and laughed.
    â€˜I’m only kidding,’ he said. He lifted one of the cushions and threw it hard at him. It hit the boy softly in the face.
    â€˜Big get,’ said the boy, the words muffled in the cushion. Michael knew he was offended. He tried to win him round.
    â€˜Right, young Kane. What are we going to do today?’
    He didn’t answer. He just lay in the chair, his knees drawn up to his chest and his head in the cushion.
    â€˜Owen? What do you think? Eh?’
    The boy said something inaudible into the cushion.
    â€˜What was that?’
    He lifted his head. He was smiling.
    â€˜Go to the amusements.’
    â€˜No, not again.’
    â€˜The toy shop?’
    â€˜We want to go new places. See new things.’
    â€˜ You do.’
    â€˜I am the captain of this ship,’ said Michael in his captain’s voice, ‘and what I say . . . ’
    â€˜I want a smoke,’ said Owen. They went up to their room and Owen smoked a cigarette. Then they went out to wherever Michael wanted to go.
    This time Michael, with his A–Z in hand, walked away from Piccadilly. The day was good but just not so warm and bright as the previous one. They came to Leicester Square and Owen noticed a crowd of people at the side of the pavement. He tugged at Michael’s sleeve and pointed. They moved over to see what was happening. A loud fairground voice was coming out from the middle of the crowd. Owen wormed his way in, pulling Michael after him. A man in a navy raincoat was standing in front of an upturned orange box, flicking cards about its surface. He kept up a constant patter:
    â€˜Find the lady, find the lady. The simplest game in the world. Make yo’self a few quid. Just find the lady. I’ll show ’er to ya just to make it easy.’
    He showed the Queen of Hearts and two black Jacks, then flipped them down on top of the box.
    â€˜Which one is it? Which one is it, ladies and gents? Put your money where your mouf is.’
    A man leaned forward with a five pound note and tapped a card. The man in the navy raincoat turned it and it was the Queen.
    â€˜Right, he’s got it. The gentleman wins himself a fiver,’ and he paid out for all to see.
    Owen tugged at Michael.
    â€˜It’s dead easy. I can see which one it is. Get the money.’
    A man with a heavy moustache, standing beside Michael, spoke: ‘It’s easy, mate. It’s the one in the middle.’
    The man who had won before won another fiver, picking the middle card.
    â€˜Get the money out,’ hissed Owen.
    â€˜Yeah, go on,’ said the man with the moustache.
    Michael put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a roll of fivers. He was going to peel one off when the man who was turning the cards turned to talk to someone. The man with the moustache leaned forward and bent the corner of the Queen, marking it.
    â€˜Now you can put the lot on,’ he said in a whisper.
    The dealer turned round again and shouted,
    â€˜Find the lady, the simplest game in the world.’
    He flipped the cards, leapfrogging them over each other. Owen hissed,
    â€˜Now. Put the lot on.’
    The one to the left had a crimped corner. Michael hesitated, still about to take off one fiver. Suddenly the man with the moustache snatched the money out of his hand and