EXPLOSION AND SHOCK

EXPLOSION AND SHOCK

In the adventure of the trek across the mudflats to the old plane wreck, the gang had been so determined to bring back some memento of their dangerous adventure that they decided to carry the old corroded shell they found back to the shore. Once there they realised the danger of what they were doing so they hid the shell in a depression in the flat grassy salt grass. It had been thought that eventually they would bring the old shell back to their den, but then doubts began to creep in as they realised that if the full story of their dangerous walk across the mud flats were to reach the ears of their parents, they would be prohibited from playing on the Lamby again. So, while sworn to absolute secrecy, they were unable to solve the conundrum of what to do about the hidden shell.

This next story is about the consequences of their dangerous expedition. Roddy had met Albert when following the City gang to find how they crossed the busy railway line and while he had told the rest of his friends about this interesting man, none of them had ever seen him. As far as they were concerned, this Albert fellow didn’t exist beyond Roddy’s imagination.

So, this story begins with the friends meeting and trying unsuccessfully to decide what to do about the hidden shell and then agreeing to Roddy’s suggestion that they follow him along the hidden path across the railway to meet with Albert in his allotment. None of them knew that their day would end in them feeling shocked and fearful

The gang met again at their den the Saturday following their scary adventure on the mud flats. To their great relief they had managed to avoid revealing to anyone the true story of their trek across the tidal flats and the visit to the wrecked plane. So far at least they had successfully kept secret their adventure with the shell and the muddy and dangerous expedition across the sloppy tidal flats. True both Derec and Peter got into deep trouble with their mother for having mud over their clothes especially their underpants, which took on a grey discolouration that took several washings to remove. Despite the multiple washings they noticed that those items retained a slightly different colour to their other underclothes. Peter was able to come up with some innocent sounding explanation that got them into trouble but avoided any revelation of the real truth. 

Roddy had managed to get to the bathroom without attracting attention and cleaned of the worst of the remaining mud but leaving a reasonable amount of normal dirt. As Saturday was a mandatory bath night he was able to get all of the remaining dirt off his body and carefully clean his nails. He also carelessly and “accidentally” dropped his underwear into the bathtub which allowed him give them a washing ahead of the washing day wash and he was able clean off the incriminating dirt and leave them to dry off before they were put in with the rest of the wash. 

Clive’s mother noticed the smell of the river mud as soon as he walked through the door. But he was able to make up a story about going bird nesting in the reens and getting some mud on himself, but being able to dry things out before coming home. This was a plausible story as it had happened many times before and his mother’s tolerance was a legend among the gang as Clive seemed to be forgiven all sorts of scrapes that for the rest of the Gang would be the cause of major rows and the imposition of restrictions on where and with whom they could play.

So it was not only relief that surged through Gang’s collective psyche and boosted their morale but also a dangerous feeling of invincibility that Roddy felt could only come back and haunt them one day. The first discussion, after they had all shared their stories about how they had avoided letting out the truth of what they had done the previous Saturday, was about the shell. Peter had already walked out to the shoreline early that morning and had reassured himself that the shell was still in its hiding place and he had found some mud and grass to further cover it from any sharp eyes. But today the weather was fine and that meant that a lot of people would be out walking along the sea bank including plenty of older teenagers who would be out with their girlfriends and seeking nice soft patches of grass to lie on and indulge in all that kissing hugging that the Gang found to be rather embarrassing. No, they needed a better plan to bring the shell to the den and because of the openness of the sea bank they would have to take a longer route, such as along the River, but even that was very exposed and they could be easily observed. 

It was Roddy who proposed and solution. Each night his Mother continued to read to him the adventures of Robinson Crusoe just before bedtime. Roddy would happily get ready and wash hands, face and clean his teeth, before curling up in bed ready for another few pages of this fascinating story to be read to him. Once finished he would lie awake and relive the story in his imagination, his mind colouring in all the extra details of that lonely place. He remembered that Robinson Crusoe would deal with heavy things that he had rescued from the wrecked ship using a raft that he had made and that he would often move things in stages rather than trying to do it in one go.

“Let’s take one of our bogies out there and load the shell on to it and cover it with something else like driftwood. After all that mad old lady takes her rickety pram over the Lamby and collects all driftwood that the tide leaves stranded against the sea bank. We could just act as if we were collecting wood for Guy Fawkes and pile it over the shell”.

The others looked at him with surprise and admiration. That was obviously a terrific idea that solved the issue of being seen and the challenge of struggling to carry the shell over such a long distance. The only problem was that the only bogie that they possessed had broken apart when they ran it down the slope in the Quarry. It was too fragile to manage the bumps and dips in the rough grass with three people on it and it the main board, which held the pram axles, had split. They were not sure how to repair it properly and getting another one was going to take a lot of hunting and begging for wheels and wood as well as the time to build a new one. 

“Well, we could borrow one couldn’t we? We must know someone who has one. What about a children’s push chair?” 

Roddy was not about to let his idea fade. After all carrying the shell for such a long distance would fall on the bigger boys and that would mean that he would have to struggle with that weight and endure the numbing pain in his arms and shoulders once again. Also anybody out walking would be able to see what they were up to. The others all nodded at him. Yes, this was a good idea provided they could find something fairly sturdy with wheels that they could borrow for a few hours.

Peter changed the subject to the City gang. Had anyone seen them lately? Nobody had, but Roddy related his story about spying on the gang once again and offered to guide them along the path that the City gang had taken to cross the River. They agreed and so with him in the lead they headed off across the fields. They crossed between fields through the gaps in the hedges that only they knew, making sure to pull the bramble, hazel and tree saplings back into place to hide their passage. Roddy had been telling them about Robinson Crusoe’s methods to conceal his fort and how he was careful to never leave clear paths to his hide out. The Gang was skeptical at first and suspicious about copying the ruses of some ancient character that they had never even heard of and certainly never seen in a film but the idea of being secretive and stealthy was appealing. After all, wasn’t that one of the attributes they most admired in their heroes of the Saturday silver screen.

After scouting for any signs of the City gang, they cautiously moved across the last field then walked parallel to the fence of plain wire strung between the leaning and creosoted wooden posts that marked the boundary of the railway. Then it was single file along the narrow strip of land between the fence and the pond that was said by some of the grown ups in the village to be bottomless.  Roddy had thought about this and found it very puzzling. Bottomless was difficult to imagine, rather like infinity which would keep him awake at night as he tried to conjure up an image of endless time. When he thought about infinity, he never succeeded in doing anything more than frighten himself with thoughts of something that was so immense it made not only his existence seem minute and pointless but also called into question his entire world. The concept of something being bottomless was somehow more tangible than time and could be thought through more easily and clearly. He knew that the Earth was round and that there was such a thing as the antipodes, which for his village he knew, lay somewhere close to New Zealand. Clearly then “bottomless” meant that the pond extended all the way through the Earth and so why didn’t the water just drain out. Sometimes grown ups said and seemed to believe in some very strange things.

They path past the pond was sandwiched between the railway fence and the beds of sharp phragmites reeds that guarded its banks. All of the Gang had suffered the stinging cuts that these reeds inflicted on their legs and hands and only traversed the reed beds along the well-traveled open paths. The Pond was a constant temptation but also a little frightening as it was a dark place and even though none of the boys really believed that it was bottomless, somehow the myth did give Pond an air of mystery and threat. So, in single file now, they continued toward the bridge and noticed that the path was starting to look quite worn. The members of City gang must be coming along this way quite frequently and were turning the previously faint pathway into a very conspicuous track.

When they got to the railway bridge and saw the dark and dank path beneath the girders bounded on one side by the rank mud left by the receding tide and on the other by the brick of the bridge abutments, they all paused. Derec began to hang back as if he were afraid of going beneath the railway. The others with the exception of Peter also looked hesitant, even Roddy who had been this way once before found himself hesitating. The bridge was wide and from the outside the pathway was not very visible in the grey gloom. Going through there looked like a plunge into the unknown. 

Peter looked across at his younger brother and decided that to try to persuade him to go through that wet and smelly tunnel would be tiresome and that it would be better to leave him be. “Stay here!” he said “and keep a watch for us. Shout if you see anything”.

After a quick check of the others, Roddy set off under the railway bridge along track that had now been worn by the passage of many feet. As they crouch-walked under the bridge and crawled to pass under the large main girders that came down lower than the rest, a goods train ran over the line and the deep thunderous rumble of its passing shook the ground beneath them. They stopped and Roddy could see from their white staring faces that they were awed by the experience just as he was when he had passed under the first time on the heels of the City gang. They stood frozen while the train continued its rumbling roar overhead, the noise punctuated by the rhythmic and scary bang made by the wheels as they hit the joints between the rails. The only dry ground was confined to the narrow space adjacent to where the riverbank met the bridge abutments and in this space the boys huddled together as if seeking to hide from the banging clashing monster above them.

Suddenly comparative silence reigned except for the rippling sound of the River as the tide pushed the muddy salt water upstream. The boys recommenced their passage of the railway bridge and were relieved to emerge into peaceful daylight on the other side. After carefully reconnoitering the pathway for signs of railway employees, Roddy signaled for them to come out from the shelter of the bridge. He showed them the way to the path alongside the line and across the railway bridge and he also pointed across the River to the low part in the fence where they could cross to the allotments. 

What to do next was the question on their minds. Peter did not want to leave his brother on the other side of the bridge for too long and he was for going back and waiting for another day to explore further. Roddy, who had already gone this way once and knew its terrors wanted to push ahead. He could see that there were people working in the allotment gardens and he found himself hoping that Albert would be there. Clive was not too interested in going forward either and so the decision was made that Roddy could go further if he wanted while the others would go back and stay in the den until he returned. Strangely Roddy found himself quite comfortable with that as he realized that he was not yet ready to share Albert with the others. He could not explain why he felt this way. Perhaps it was because the other members of the gang would not find Albert as interesting as Roddy found him and would see him as just another adult full of boring stories, stories which he found fascinating and made him want to hear more. 

So Roddy found himself going alone up the embankment to the path along the edge of the railway, all the while scanning his surroundings for workers who might see him and catch him. The path across the bridge was clear and a line of empty wagons in the siding gave him good cover against being seen from the signal box on the other side of the lines. He looked once more to be sure that no one was around and then he darted across the railway bridge, with just a quick glance at the rest of the Gang as they disappeared under the Bridge on their way back to the other side. After a rapid descent of the bank on the far side of the bridge he slid quickly through the fence and into the relative safety of the allotment gardens. As it was only his second time there he had to think hard about the location of Albert’s allotment. He remembered the shed with its black tar roof and looked around for it. 

There it was, just a hundred yards or so from the fence, but there was no sign of Albert. Walking slowly over to the shed, he realized that he would be disappointed if Albert were absent. Still, he would go over there and take a look at the garden and perhaps look around at the other places too as he had not had the time to explore on his previous visit. A strip of grass acted as a division between each of the gardens and along it was a well-worn path, which Roddy followed. The allotment gardeners would dig up the ground to the edge of the grass strip and so there was usually a sharp edge and a drop. Not all the gardens had sheds on them and Albert’s was one of the more elaborate ones in the entire allotment. Roddy came around the corner of the shed and there, to his surprise, was Albert on his hands and knees working with the plants.

“Hello”, he said rather tentatively.

“Well, well, if it isn’t my young explorer back again. What have you been up to and what is it that brings you over here”? 

“Oh, I was bringing my friends over to see you but they didn’t like the noise and shaking coming under the railway bridge, so they seemed to lose interest in going any further and wanted to go back to the den instead. So I decided to come on by myself and see if you were here”. 

“Well butty, you have come at the right time. I need someone with young knees to help me thin out these carrots. Come over here and I will show you how to do it. We should not be long and afterward I can take you out to the boat again. I think that the tide will be right for that. Come on.”

Roddy walked over to where Albert was kneeling, taking care to not step on the rows of plants. He knelt beside Albert who showed him how to thin the carrots that were growing in tangled profusion. He learned how to select the smaller ones and pull them from the ridge of soil in which they were bedded, leaving the larger ones behind to grow into full-sized carrots. 

“We’re just helping Nature do its job by removing the competition and letting the strong ones thrive. A little like that survival of the fittest that old bearded Darwin talked about”.

Roddy had no idea who Darwin was. It was not even a name that he had heard used before. So, shrugging his shoulders, he continued to help by starting the thinning from the far end of the row where Albert was working. As he worked, he would occasionally glance at Albert and saw that he thinned the carrots with a rapidity and sureness that Roddy could not match. Albert was really quite supple for an “old man” and he moved swiftly along the row, putting the thinned carrots in the slight gully between the heaped up ridges of soil. He also worked with a concentration that was so strong that it was as if his entire body was built for that task. Roddy had never really seen adults working in that way before and he was so fascinated that lost concentration on his own task. 

Albert looked up and caught his young friend looking at him. “ He grinned and with a laugh said, “Come on, you need to do your bit too you know, else we shall not have the time to go to the boat”.

Roddy turned back and buckled down to his task, pulling up what seemed to be the smallest carrots with the least amount of feathery greenery above the surface. Sometimes he made a mistake and pulled up a good-sized carrot. The first time that happened, Albert reached behind him and gave him something he called a “dibble” which looked nothing more than a piece of a handle from a shovel or garden fork that had been sharpened to a point. This he had to push into the ground and work around to make a conical-shaped hole into which he put the carrot that he had accidentally pulled and then he pressed tightly the soil around it. Albert did not seem to be at all upset that Roddy made such mistakes and just gently laughed and showed him how to correct them. 

So on they worked until they met at around the two-thirds mark. Roddy had finally got the entire process down to a steady rhythm but he was still not as fast as the practiced hands and eyes of Albert. 

Albert stayed in his kneeling position and turned his head to look at his helper. “Well, that seems to have taken care of that my young butty. So, let’s clean ourselves up a little and then we can be off to the boat”. 

They got up and stretched with Albert doing a particularly long and involved stretch that included putting his arms over his head and leaning backwards. He then walked over to the shed and went to the small water barrel at the side, pulled off the wooden top and took an old enamel bowl that was hanging on the side of the shed, scooped up some water and placed it on the end of the bench. He then thrust his hands into the water and began to rub them together vigorously. Roddy followed him and he too pushed his hands into the cold soft rainwater and began to wash. Albert handed him a small cake of soap that had been lying on the wooden shelf nailed to the side of the cabin. It was quite dry and hard from being exposed to the wind but surprisingly, after just a few rubs in the rainwater it lathered up well. Albert took a small brush from the same shelf and used that to clean the dirt from beneath his nails, passing the brush to Roddy when he had finished. 

Albert then brushed off his trousers and reached for the dark blue short coat that he called his “donkey jacket” that was hanging from a nail hammered into the side of the shed, turned to Roddy and motioned him to follow.

Off they walked, zigzagging between the garden plots and taking great care to not put their foot on someone’s prize plants as they navigated the shortest way to the southern boundary of the allotment gardens where they opened the gate that took them through to the rough grass alongside the old aerodrome. Roddy had heard planes circling overhead from time to time but had never seen a plane land there. 

“Do planes still land here”? he asked.

Albert looked back at him, “ Not often, it was used a little after the War, but all the traffic has moved to another aerodrome away in the west. They say that they want to build on it someday, so in the meantime the old buildings just rot away and the grass and weeds grow through the cracks in between the concrete.

“Did they fly planes from here during the War then,” asked Roddy, “ and did they have any crash?”

“Oh, yes there was a lot of activity during the War. They used to have fighter planes based here then and some of them did crash I heard but I was away myself and of course they never put out anything official during the War because it would have been picked up by the Germans. I don’t think that it was a large base but there was a lot of activity. I think that they had a group from the Royal Navy flying here and they used to go out on patrol looking for submarines. Anyway, even though I was not around much the place was pretty busy they say. Why are you so interested young ‘un?” 

“Well, me and my friends have always wondered about the wrecked plane that is out on the mud flats and how it got there. It must have crashed when taking off from the aerodrome here, as it seems to be pointing away from the runway. Nobody seems to know much about it and lots of grown-ups don’t even know that it is there.

Albert just grunted a little and didn’t say anything for while. “You know, I have wondered about that too and nobody that I have asked seems to know the story. It is just a mystery I suppose and one that we shall never solve. Come on let’s get on to the boat while the tide is still in our favour”.

They continued their tramp to the edge of the River where they turned downstream and walked parallel to the filling channel. The tide was now flowing strongly and the brown waters of the Channel were flooding up the River and steadily overriding the shimmering banks of silver grey mud. The power and swiftness of the flooding tide was always a fascination to Roddy. He would stand on the banks and watch that swift surge of water and marvel at its power. He particularly liked to watch the River on a warm summer’s evening when the peculiar smells of salt water and those of the rich organic mud were wafted to his nose on warm moist air currents. Those same currents carried the harsh “craking” cries of the gulls that punctuated the gentle background calls of the wading birds as they hurried their search for food on the edge of the silent and fast rising flood. The sounds would arc over him as if he were in a cocoon that was only occasionally penetrated by the hard metallic staccato of a train on the nearby line. Even that sound seemed to ebb and flow as if it could not successfully penetrate the ancient rhythms of the tide and the wild world that lived by its ceaseless energy. Then he could imagine another more ancient time, before man had changed the landscape of river, sea and marsh. He imagined the clouds of birds rising and gyrating as the vast flocks sought their bearing and then formed up to take off to their night roost. It must have been a magical place then and the first of the ancient people to reach it must have been in awe beneath such an overwhelming display of Nature’s wealth and power.

He walked on in a dream his feet seeming to find the path without any conscious effort from him. A sudden cough snapped him out of this warm and exciting reverie. It was Albert looking back at him with an indulgent smile playing over his mouth. They had already arrived at where Albert kept the little dinghy that he had ridden in before. Albert did not say anything about his obvious daydreaming. He just silently inclined his head toward the River and the dinghy. The little rowing boat was tied to a heavy iron stake that had been hammered into the soft turf a few feet away from the edge of the River. The stake had a peculiar curl to its top and the rope from the dingy was hooked over this. Roddy had not noticed this the last time that he was here but he instantly recognized the ingenious design, which allowed the loop of mooring rope to be passed over the open spiral of the stake, and yet it could not accidentally unhook itself either. 

He looked at the mud bank between him and the dingy. While he could not walk over there in his shoes, his experience with the “Great Aeroplane Adventure” had taught him that he could manage that in bare feet and by using his toes to balance and steady himself he could easily walk to the dingy and clamber aboard by himself. So, off came the shoes and socks and he stepped boldly across the remaining grassy tussocks and onto the mud, carefully digging in his toes to keep from slipping.

Albert watched with a wide grin on his face. “What are you doing butty? Trying to turn yourself into a proper old mudlark then”. He laughed uproariously as Roddy slipped and slopped his way to the dingy. He almost lost his balance several times and he would madly flap his arms to stop himself from falling, while grasping his shoes into which he had stuffed his socks. All the time he was driven by the image of falling and covering himself in the grey-brown mud that would penetrate his clothes and prove impossible to remove even when dry. Once at the dingy and with his hand firmly gripping the gunwale, he turned his head back to Albert and his face broke into a sparkling grin. Albert rocked back on his heels, put his hands on his hips and let out an explosion of a laugh. “You should ‘a seen yourself, butty, you looked just like Charlie Chaplin having a fit mun”.

Roddy’s grin dissolved into laughter too as the relief of having reached the safety of the dingy without any mud on his clothes overwhelmed him. Albert came down the bank, thrusting his boot heels skillfully into the hard mud to make sure that he would not slip. 

“If you had waited a bit, I would have pulled the dinghy up to the grass and let you climb in and then pushed it back to the water. It slides easy over the mud you know. Well you’re here now, so in you get.”

Roddy got into the boat and sat on the rear thwart while Albert pushed the little green dingy to the edge of the fast moving water and then came into it over the bow. It was a short job to set the oars in their rowlocks and then pull across the racing tide to the yacht swinging gently at its moorings in the tideway. Albert had earlier shown him how to grab the stern rail of the yacht and quickly pass a rope, or painter as Albert called it, over the lower stern rail and back into the dingy. Albert shipped the oars and handed the rope attached to the bow back to Roddy, before clambering into the yacht over the stern rail. Then he took the bow painter off him and quickly secured it. Grabbing Roddy’s hand with his large rough paw, he pulled him aboard with just one heave. The strength in that arm surprised Roddy. It was as if he was plucked from the dingy in one fast movement and the next thing that he knew he was standing on the stern of the yacht watching Albert adjust the bow painter on the stern bollards and letting the dingy spin back out into the tide and stretch the line taught as the fast current caught it and straightened it. Albert was a big man and to the young boy he seemed quite ancient as everyone did who was more than about twenty years old. Yet Albert was surprisingly strong and very fast on his feet. He could bend and move his legs without complaining of twinges and aches, which was what Roddy heard commonly from the other fathers in the street.

“Mooring in this River is not like having a boat in one of these fancy marinas that they have on the south coast of England. They don’t have to handle their craft in fast moving water like we have too. We have to be more nimble than they need to be.”

Roddy nodded though he did not know what a marina was and he thought that all river estuaries were like this one with fast-moving muddy water and big drops between high and low tides. He would have been amazed to learn that some parts of the south coast had tidal ranges that were just ten feet or so and not the many tens of feet that he was used to. In his experience coastlines were either low and muddy or bounded by cliffs like those on the other side of the City or the ones across the Channel that were visible on clear days. The huge estuary that lay beyond the River, with its fast tides and thick fogs and water that was never clear but always the colour of milky tea, was the sea world that was familiar to him. He had heard about the clear seas that were in some parts of the world with their reefs of coral and white sand but they were just stories and the occasional picture. Perhaps he would see them some day but in the meantime this was his  world and despite the mud and the tea-brown water, it was a world that had its compensations and its beauty also.

“Alright, that’s enough daydreaming. Now, before we start anything you need to wash the mud off your feet. Here, take this bucket and scoop up some water and pour it over your feet. Make sure that the deck doesn’t have any muddy footprints on it. I’ll take my boots off and put on some deck shoes, so give them a rinse for me too.”

While he was doing cleaning his feet and Albert’s boots he wondered what it would be like to sail this yacht into the open water beyond the River.

“Do you ever sail your yacht out into the Channel, Albert?”

“Not so much these days as I used to. However, I think it’s time to be taking another trip. Maybe out and around the Islands, you know, Flat Holm and Steep Holm. The old boat needs to be taken out. I have done a lot of work on the engine and it should be ready for a little voyage. Would you like to come with me young un?”

Roddy looked at Albert in surprise. Of course he would like to do that. He had seen the Islands from a distance once, long ago, when the family was on a day trip on one of the paddle steamers that scooted back and forth across the Channel in the summer. He had loved those trips and had spent all of his time on the deck watching the other ships in the Channel and feeling the fresh breeze as the great side paddles propelled them forward at a surprisingly high speed. On the deck below was a series of windows that allowed you to look down into the engine room. Most fascinating was the sight of the great pistons that were attached to a large metal crank that drove the paddles on either side of the vessel. The gigantic silver steel rods that pushed back and forth with such power yet made so little noise fascinated Roddy. There were two of these and when one was pushed fully out the other seemed to be pulling back. He would then go to the deck in the mid-ships and watch the paddles busily and noisily churning the water in such stark contrast to the silent and powerful gyrations of those giant shimmering arms. 

He hoped that his parents would take him on one of those paddle steamers again soon, but this time on a longer voyage. There was an island that he had heard of, inhabited by just a lighthouse keeper and a few farmers and ringed by high cliffs. It was near the open ocean and he had heard stories of violent gales that sent huge waves smashing over the cliffs. The fast black and white paddle steamers went there during the summer when the sea was in its gentle state. He longed to go there one day. 

Albert’s voice snapped him out of his reverie and brought him back to the little yacht in the middle of his little muddy river. The yacht was not large but it was fascinating in its compactness. There was the cockpit, as Albert called it, in which they now stood and from which small double doors led into a saloon. Forward of the saloon was a tiny kitchen or galley and beyond that a narrow cabin with a bunk on either side. Roddy was taken by the compactness and warm comfort of these small spaces. The wood was dark and polished and everywhere there was glistening brass.

“Come on we need to do some cleaning and you are going to help. You didn’t just think you were coming here for a ride did you. Before we go off a-voyaging you need to earn your passage young butty.”

With that Albert handed Roddy some old rags and showed him how to rub and polish the rails along the side of the boat. The salt air and the rain had stained them quite badly and it took a lot of rubbing to remove the grime and discolouration. The work was helped by some creamy liquid that Albert would squeeze sparingly onto Roddy’s rag, and where the discolouration was particularly bad, he showed him how to use some very fine steel wool similar to that which his mother used to scour the saucepans but very much finer. So he buckled down to his work. Polishing the metal was enjoyable, even though it was hard work and it made his forearms ache so much that he had to stop frequently to allow the sharp pains to subside. Although the work was repetitive it was satisfying to see the newly polished rail gleam. The sun broke through the grey overcast and turned the dull muddy currents into a sparkle of silver that sometimes blinded him and made the polished rail glint and flash. It warmed his back as he bent over the railing and pushed the rags along the rail or made a loop over the rail with the rag and, with a hand on each end, sawed away to raise a shine, the novel motion giving his arms a much needed change of pace. 

The tide continued to set and the boat rose higher opening up the view to the entire flat salt-grass plain of the Lamby and to the sparkling sunlit waters of the Channel beyond. He liked working in such a place where he could look out on the world and not just at the task in front of him. Albert was working the starboard side of the boat and he had told Roddy that his task was the rail on the port side. These were novel terms but although he had no idea where they came from he loved the practiced way in which these obscure words rolled of Albert’s tongue. Starboard especially sounded more like “sta’bud” when Albert said it. He never sounded out the entire word and each time that he said it there was a slight change in emphasis. Steadily they approached the bow of the yacht, though Albert was much ahead of Roddy who did not have the strong arms, practiced hands and economical technique of his companion. When Albert reached the bow, he stretched and looked around him and then at Roddy who was still working away on his side of the vessel. Albert nodded approvingly at the shine that Roddy had produced so far. He then bent over and began to work his way along the port side from the bow back toward where Roddy was polishing away. For some while they each rubbed and polished vigorously with an occasional glance at the river and the scene beyond.

Albert was the first to notice the small crowd walking along the sea bank from the railway bridge and he stopped his work and stood up to watch. The small crowd was led by a man in a dark jacket followed closely by a man who was dressed all in light-brown and seemed to be taller and straighter than the others who were straggling along behind. They were all too far away to be sure of any detail. 

Albert whistled! “Well, just look at that. Something’s up, that’s for sure boyo. One of the blokes looks like he’s Army. Wonder what they are up to. “

He put down his rags and went aft to the cockpit, put his hand inside the cabin door and pulled out a pair of binoculars, which he trained on the group. They were perhaps a half-mile away as far as Roddy could judge. His measure of distance was the running track at the recreation fields, which was a quarter mile. He would think of this distance in his mind’s eye and multiply it in his imagination to assess how far he was from the object he was looking at. He knew that it was very rough and ready but it was the only method that he knew. His fellow gang members used to just guess wildly and their estimates were usually laughably exaggerated. Derec for instance thought that even the shortest distances were miles and so a foray into the fields beyond the sea bank were usually referred to as ‘miles and miles, more than five I bet’, when they were only a mile or two at most. Roddy knew this because there was a rather detailed map at home and he would trace their course on it and use a ruler to measure the distance.

Albert swept his glasses back and forth along the group. 

“Definitely Army, he has a cap on though and not a beret so I think that he is an officer. Looks like there are a couple of squaddies coming behind. The man leading the group looks familiar. I’m sure that I have seen him before walking along the sea bank”.

Albert came toward Roddy and passed the glasses over to him. 

“Here, take a look through these.”

Roddy put the binoculars to his eyes and pointed them to where the gaggle of people should be. He couldn’t see a thing. Albert saw him struggling and gently took the glasses from him and showed him how to adjust them to fit his smaller face and also how to adjust the focus of the glasses to get a sharp image. After a lot of fiddling he was finally able to get a sharp image of the group. The man leading was walking fairly fast and behind him was the tall man in army uniform. He had khaki pants and a battledress top on but he wore a cap with a badge on it that could not be read from this distance even with Albert’s binoculars, which were very powerful and appeared to be very expensive. He also seemed to have lots of badges on the front and sleeves of his battledress, something that the two other army men did not. He swept the binoculars further back along the sea bank and had a big surprise and would have dropped the glasses if Albert had not already put the strap over his head. He fumbled around as Albert looked at him quizzically.

“See something strange, did you.”

“No, err no, I just was trying to adjust them and they slipped a bit. Sorry!”

Putting the glasses back to his eyes, he again scanned the group walking along the sea bank. Then he looked behind the group and yes, there they were, the rest of his Gang, following along at a discrete distance. Following was not really what they were doing as they were dodging down behind the sea bank every so often as if they did not want to draw attention to themselves. From this vantage point their behaviour looked quite suspicious. Whatever were they doing and why were they behaving like that? Puzzled by what was going on he swung the binoculars back to the army men who were now moving away from him as they took one of the left-handed jogs in the sea bank. The civilian was still leading the group. He was dressed in a dark jacket and walked with his head bowed slightly and pointing ahead, looking a little like a dog following a scent. The military man in the khaki uniform was behind and slightly to the left, straight-backed and striding purposefully and easily while the soldiers that Albert called “squaddies” came behind.

Albert asked for a look and Roddy handed back the glasses. He trained them on the group that was now approaching another jog in the sea bank, which would have them moving seaward again and make them more visible from the yacht. Carefully adjusting the binoculars he swung his gaze from the front to the back of the group and began to whistle quietly to himself. Then, slowly letting the glasses down from his face until they were hanging from their straps against his chest, he stood very still, his face almost expressionless and his gaze unfocused, as he seemed to think hard about what he had observed.

“You know butty, this is very strange, but I could swear that the second man is an officer in the bomb disposal unit. They always seem to favour wearing battledress blouses instead of buttoned jackets because they don’t get in the way of whatever they are doing. The men behind him are carrying shovels and seem to have sacks of sand balanced on their shoulders. Question is, whatever are they doing over there. There are probably old unexploded bombs in the City, which took a pretty heavy pasting from the Luftwaffe, but they would not have dropped any bombs over here. If they had they would have either exploded or they would have sunk out of sight in the mud. Can’t make head or tail of this at all.”

Albert scratched his nose pensively and continued to stare at the group for a while before bending back to the cleaning of the deck rail. Roddy did the same but found that he was glancing up frequently to follow the progress of the group as they came closer and closer to the another bend in the sea bank where it turned abruptly again to follow the estuary upstream. 

They continued to work along the deck rail, polishing and scouring, while frequently checking on what was happening on the opposite bank. The polished length of the deck rail gleamed in the sun and sent off sharp sparkles of light as the boat twisted and jagged in the flowing tide. The wind was increasing also and the rigging was starting to make a low moaning sound as it caught the increasing breeze.  Suddenly, Albert stopped his work, threw the rags on the deck and reached for the binoculars that he had placed on the top of the cabin. Roddy looked over and saw what had made him stop. The group had reached the turn in the sea bank and was scrambling down to the flat expanse of sea-grass. The soldiers who were carrying the sand bags and shovels were having a particularly hard time of negotiating the bank as their awkward burdens caused them to slide in the soft and slippery grass. They could not easily throw out their arms to balance themselves as the others did because of the sacks on their shoulders. Even without the aid of the binoculars he could see that they were wobbling dangerously and suddenly one of them buckled at the knees and slid the short way down the bank on his bum. Roddy grinned at the comical sight and even Albert, who was seeing these goings-on in greater detail, let out a sharp laughing-breath. 

“Well, whatever it is that they are looking for, it seems to be on the foreshore or nearby.”

It hit Roddy like a sudden burst of light. Of course, they must be heading for the shell. But how did they know about that. He cast his mind back to the day of the expedition to the plane wreck and remembered how they had looked very carefully to see if anyone was nearby who could observe them. Their caution was more to do with the possible embarrassment of being seen naked and covered with mud from the foreshore than with keeping the shell out of sight, but nevertheless they had been careful. Nobody was within sight that day. Very few people even ventured out that far, and the day had been turning cool and windy which would have deterred most adults from coming out for afternoon walks. Yet here was the small group of people, including what Albert said were possibly members of a bomb disposal unit, seemingly heading straight toward the place where they had hidden the shell. He cast his mind back to the day they had hidden the shell in that shallow depression and wondered if there was a possibility that they had left some evidence there, but no, all they had done was to slap some mud over to give it extra cover. It had looked well hidden and Peter had since gone back to check and put some more grass over it. No, he decided, there was no possibility that they could be connected to that shell lying in the mud, unless someone had been watching them from a hiding place and seen them put it in that depression left by the turf cutter. But if that were the case he would have expected that person to pull back the clods of turf and soil to see what had been hidden and Peter had not noticed any change to what they had done.

Yet, why were his friends acting so strangely? They were now behind the sea bank, just at the place where the three soldiers and their guides had left the bank and struck out across the salt grass flats. Every so often he could see a head and the top of a body pop up and scan the group, then pop back down again. They looked like some strange form of wildlife such as Roddy had seen on a neighbour’s television in a program about Africa. There were animals in the film that lived in holes and were constantly popping up and down and checking to see if predators were near. The difference here though was that while the wild animals in the film were cautious and tried hard to be invisible, his fellow gang members were so clumsy that they would have been obvious to anyone who bothered to look behind them. 

Albert was still watching closely through the binoculars. He was concentrating carefully and adjusting the focus screw continually. Suddenly he whistled gently and almost absentmindedly.

“Looks like they have found whatever it is they were looking for. It is not on the foreshore itself but somewhere in the salt grass just by the little mud cliff. Now that is really strange. If there were a bomb there someone would have noticed it, as it would have formed a large crater when it fell and I have never seen or heard of such a thing. I wonder what the heck it is.”

Roddy listened nervously and tried to look as calm and disinterested as possible. Albert was right, and if he followed his logic he would have to conclude that someone had brought whatever the army man was looking at, from somewhere else. As adults were always assumed to be responsible people, then it was unlikely that it was a grown up who did it. So, suspicion would automatically fall on children. The question would be, which children. 

Just then he saw several heads and torsos bob up from behind the sea bank and it struck him forcibly that if one of the group saw his friends and the strange way in which they were acting, suspicion would surely fall on them. He desperately wanted to warn them to leave or just come out of their stupid hiding place and just act with normal curiosity, but all that he could do was to stand there, helpless and impotent.

Albert looked across at him and noted his agitation but said nothing. He handed the binoculars over with just a silent nod. Roddy trained them on the group who were now looking earnestly at something lying at their feet. The tall army man in the battledress was clearly in charge and he was talking to the two others who had carried the sandbags and the shovels and pointing at the ground and at the equipment that they had brought with them. One of the men turned and hurried off to the sea bank and back to the railway bridge. They must have a lorry there with other equipment on it. It would take a while for the man to go there and back, so he handed the binoculars to Albert and resumed his cleaning and polishing. All the while his mind was churning over the possibility that he and the others would be found out and would get into trouble for bringing the shell back to land. While at first they had been concerned about the possible danger, their fears had subsided once they had carried it back to shore. After all it had lain in the mud by the wrecked plane for years and years and nobody had bothered with it. Surely after all of this time it would be harmless. If it were going to explode, wouldn’t it have done so long ago? He could not help but cast frequent glances at the officer and the civilian who now stood more or less motionless looking down at the shell while the other soldier stood looking out to sea.

Albert also started back at his rubbing and polishing but he also looked over at the group on the foreshore from time to time to see if anything new was happening. The officer was now looking out over the sea-covered mudflats with his binoculars to where the soldier was pointing. The civilian was also looking seaward and they seemed to be deep in conversation about what they were looking at. Roddy guessed that they must have been looking at the plane wreck. Perhaps the man in the suit had told them about the skeleton of the plane but at this state of the tide it would surely be covered with seawater. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, he realized that they were working out where the shell came from. To hide his concern he resumed his polishing of the rails with even more energy and continued furiously rubbing until he and Albert finally met on the port side near the bow. Albert looked at the work and went back over to the starboard side to look again at what he had done there. 

“That’s a real shipshape job young butty. I’m going to have to make you a regular member of the crew”. He beamed at Roddy and then at the deck rail that was now gleaming in the sunshine. Then he looked over to the distant group on the foreshore and turned back to his young helper.

 “Now, tell me what’s going on over there. What have you and your friends been up too? I suppose those are your friends who are making such a poor job of hiding behind the sea bank and making such a muck of it that it is as clear as day to me that they have something to hide.”

Roddy was stunned. How did he know that he and his friends were connected with what the soldiers were doing? How could he know? Roddy had never said anything or even hinted at the expedition to the plane wreck. Except! He remembered his questions about the war and the nearby aerodrome and the wreck on the mudflats. He kicked himself for having been so carless. Albert was obviously a clever chap and it would not have taken him too long to put things together. How could he have been so stupid? For a few moments he thought of making up a story but he knew that it would not pass muster with Albert who would see immediately through any fabrication. No, there was only one answer and that was to tell the truth and hope that they would not get into trouble. So he began to relate the entire story including the trek across the mudflats and the decision to leave their clothes behind so as not to get them dirty. Albert smiled when he heard that part of the story.  Then he told of looking for a souvenir and not finding one and that was when they found the shell and decided that they needed a trophy. Albert frowned at the mention of the shell and how it was carried back to shore and left hidden, or so they thought.

“Well lad you and your friends were lucky. If that shell had gone off you wouldn’t be here today telling me the tale and helping me do the maintenance on the old boat here”.

“But the shell is so old. Surely it is harmless now?”

“Probably not. Those old shells and bombs become unstable with time and the explosives can leak and oxidize and then they sometimes go off by themselves. Let’s get the dinghy alongside and we shall go over to the other bank and find your friends and tell them to stop being so conspicuous with their bobbing up and down. Then, when the bomb disposal chap is ready to set off the explosion, you can have a first hand view of what you missed. I think that you will be surprised and shocked”.

They put away the cleaning rags and the wire wool. Albert was very careful about storing the cleaning materials. Roddy had noticed that he was a very tidy and careful man both on his boat and in the allotment. Everything had its place and was returned there after use. This was something that he was careless about. He was constantly getting into trouble for leaving things lying around after using them. He got into particular hot water over his Father’s tools when he was trying to repair his bike as he would amass a great variety of screwdrivers and other tools and then forget to put them back in their proper places.

They pulled the dingy alongside, got in and cast off its mooring rope. With just a few swift pulls from Albert they were nosing against the other bank. The tide was near the peak of the flood by now and the current was slackening, so they were able to pull right next to a large patch of salt grass. Roddy threw his shoes and socks onto dry ground and then leapt from the bow, not forgetting to hold on to the mooring rope with one hand. He held the rope tightly so that the dingy did not drift and Albert moved forward and stepped from the boat and then they hauled it out of the water and onto the grass. It would be quite safe there and there was no need to tie it off, not that there was anything to tie it to, but Albert, careful man that he was did have a spare mooring stake in the bottom of the boat, “just in case”, he said, with another of his winks.

They set off to walk across the sea grass plain to the sea bank where his friends were making such a poor job of hiding. Albert had his binoculars with him and he would stop frequently and focus on the two army men and the civilian. They made sure that they did not get too close to the three men around the shell and they kept their eyes on the part of the sea bank toward the railway line for the soldier who had been sent back to fetch some extra equipment. Although the route from the dinghy to where Roddy’s friends were hiding was more or less a straight line, Albert had to make occasional detours around the water-filled squares and rectangles formed by the turf cutters and now filled with a mix of seawater and rainwater. These formed interesting little ponds for in the early Autumn they sometimes contained small eels that came across the Atlantic all the way from some part of the Ocean called the Sargasso Sea. At least that is what someone had told Roddy when he caught one of them. 

Nearing the sea bank, they saw a head pop up and a pair of startled eyes look at them. The head quickly popped down again and as they neared the bank they could hear the sound of voices arguing. Roddy ran on ahead of Albert, scrambled up the bank and looked down at the rest of his gang who were kneeling or squatting on the ground.

“What are you doing? We could see you from the boat on the River and watch you bob up and down.  You all look as if you are guilty of something and I’m sure that you have been noticed already by the army men.”

The entire group looked more than a little embarrassed and they explained how they had decided to go back to the den, as there was nothing to do by the railway bridge. On the way across the field they noticed the army lorry and decided to go and see what it was all about. They were able to get close to the lorry without being seen and they saw a man in civilian clothes talking earnestly to the officer who was in charge. The overheard the man say “shell” and they quickly guessed that he must have been referring to their shell. Peter smelled trouble straight away and whispered to them all to stay out of sight. They did not recognize the man talking to the officers and they were sure that he was not a local person. If he was none of them had seen him before. They listened as the man told the officer that he was out on the foreshore watching birds when he noticed the shell partly hidden by some mud and grass and so he decided that it must be from the War and was probably dangerous and that is why he notified the bomb squad. He didn’t say anything about knowing how it got there or why it was partly hidden and that made them feel a little better. Peter had thought at first that the man had seen them bringing the shell back to shore but it seemed from his description that he had stumbled on it several days later.

When the man set off to lead the bomb squad men to the shell, the gang decided to follow him and see what happened. They didn’t realize that their darting about and hiding would draw attention. Roddy told them that he and Albert were going to walk a little closer and see what was going on. They doubted that they could go up to the group near the shell, as they would probably be shooed away because of the danger. He told the others to wait a little and then join them as if they had just noticed that something was going on and they were just being curious. Peter, who had appeared  embarrassed  at being told how their behaviour was attracting attention, nodded his head in silent agreement.

Roddy left his friends and went back to Albert and they set off toward where the three men were clustered around shell. A glance to their rear showed that the soldier who had been sent back to the lorry was returning and carrying something bulky. Roddy turned back to warn Peter and suggest that they make it look as if they had come through the fields and not along the sea bank. He then turned and ran to catch Albert who was striding ahead and would soon be close to the group around the shell.

“Let me do the talking young butty”

Despite feeling a little slighted, Roddy nodded in agreement and on they tramped until they reached the part of the sea bank that was close to the group. A glance back showed that the soldier was coming toward them at a rapid pace. Peter had done what he had suggested and the three boys suddenly appeared over the top of the bank near where an old wooden plank bridge had been built across the reen that ran behind it. They scrambled straight up the bank, stood at the top and looked over at the group of people on the foreshore as if they had met this scene for the first time.  Despite their earlier clumsiness, the three boys did a good job of acting as if they had just come across the fields and accidentally stumbled on the events unfolding around the shell on the foreshore. The soldier did not seem to notice that Peter and the gang were there until he was close by, then he looked at them briefly and said something, before passing by. 

Albert was already heading down the side of the bank and walking toward the group standing around the shell. The officer looked toward him and then began to walk to meet him, perhaps to tell him to go back but Albert waved and called out a familiar greeting as if they were old friends. The army officer seemed to relax and slowed down waiting for Albert to reach him. They began talking and the officer turned and pointed to the shell and then to the soldier who was walking fast along the bank. Roddy could not hear the conversation and he was nervous that Albert might let something slip out and get him and his friends into trouble. He stood there surrounded by his friends, who had come up behind him, feeling very anxious and acutely conscious that he was the only member of the Gang to have told the story of the visit to the wrecked plane and how they brought the shell back. The Gang’s behaviour certainly looked suspicious, but it was only he who had gabbed. He began to feel quite miserable and very much wanted to be away from all of this.

The soldier passed nearby. In his hand were some wires and a box and he had a full pack on his back that made it difficult for him to keep his balance as he descended the sea bank and he slipped and struggled, throwing out his arms to regain his balance while struggling to hold on to the wires and box, until he stumbled onto the flat sea grass at the base and was able to steady himself. He walked out to meet the officer and, after a brief conversation, he and the other soldier began to unpack the equipment that was in the pack. The officer turned to Albert and the other unknown civilian and waved them back to the sea bank. Roddy and the Gang waited nervously as they were uncertain about this strange man and were not completely sure that he might have watched them struggle back with the shell and if so, would recognize them and tell the soldiers. If that happened they would be in hot water with their parents and worse.

Albert and the unknown man came up the sea bank toward them. The stranger did not seem particularly interested in the boys and immediately turned his attention back to the drama unfolding around the unexploded shell. There, the three men that comprised the bomb squad were busily placing something near the shell and laying a wire that ran from the shell to the edge of the mud cliff. They then stacked the sand bags that they had laboriously carried all the way from their lorry close to the shell. He and his men then made their way to the mud cliff and scrambled down it, pulling the wires and the box with them and taking their other equipment too. For a while they were hidden from sight and it was not clear what they were doing. 

The officer reappeared and shouted to the group on the sea bank to take cover, which they did by ducking down behind the bank with just their heads exposed. For a while there was silence, then, suddenly, they saw a column of black mud erupt from the ground and pierce the air above. Mud and grass flew out at all angles and then they heard the shockingly sharp cracking bang of the explosion. The column of mud slackened in its ascent before seeming to stop and then at first slowly, then rapidly collapsing back to earth in a shower of mud, earth and grass clods. The debris formed a wide circle around where the sandbags had lain just moments before.

It was spectacular, much more so than the weak explosions of rockets and bangers on Bonfire Night. Even if they put several bangers together and held them with rubber bands to make one large firework, it was nothing compared to what they had just seen. The reaction however, was not one of jubilation, which greeted the largest explosions around the bonfire, but of shock. Roddy could see that his friends were all stunned, their faces white and frozen in disbelief. All of their imagination was focused on one thing only; what if the shell had done that when they were carrying it back. Seeing the wide swathe of debris they understood that they all would have been consumed if that shell had exploded while they were carrying it.

Ghostly pains ran through limbs and chests as the awful realization of what might have happened to them sank in. Their innards churned and felt as if they had been turned into water. Visions of bodies disintegrating rushed through their collective imagination. Limbs flew through the imaginary ether and landed in the slimy mud of the foreshore only to be swiftly overtaken by the incoming tide and tumbled and tossed on the splashing waves. 

Roddy’s throat was dry and he glanced across at Albert who was lying, head above the bank and shifting his legs in preparation for standing up. Albert caught the glance and did not say anything but he did raise his eyebrows and his lips began to part, ready to speak, but he didn’t. Instead he got to his knees, stood and began to walk toward the bomb disposal squad who had emerged by now from the safety of the mud cliff. The man who had called the bomb squad followed him.

Peter was the first to break the silence.

“Blimey!” he said very softly, “that could have been us. Instead of mud flying around it could have been bits of us flying around.”

Derec began to shake while Clive just lay there, still and silent, looking intently at the spot where they had hidden the shell just a few days ago. 

“Come on, said Peter, if we stay here we might get into trouble. The bomb soldiers will wonder what we are doing and start to ask questions and one of us will surely slip up and say something that makes them suspicious.”

He glanced at Derec as he said this. Derec didn’t respond but instead clawed his way to the top of the sea bank and stood up. With scarcely a glance at the small cluster of people looking down at the small muddy crater where the shell had lain just moments ago, he began to run back along the sea bank. Peter and Clive sped after him and stopped him, then the three began to walk quickly back toward the village. 

Roddy decided that he could not just abandon Albert and so he stood on the bank, gathered his thoughts in preparation for any prying questions, slid down the bank and began to walk hesitantly to where Arthur stood talking to the other grown ups. 

As he walked toward the group, he realized that he did not look upon Albert in quite the same way as he did other grown ups. This kindly man was easier to talk to than other adults and, while he never appeared condescending, he was always able to talk of things that were interesting to Roddy. Albert and the stranger were listening intently as the bomb squad officer was explaining something to them. He was telling them that the explosion was much larger than expected and he was not sure why. Turning to the stranger who had alerted the authorities to the presence of the shell, he asked once again if he had any idea of how the shell might have got there. The stranger said that he didn’t know but he liked to come out to this part of the foreshore and look at the birds that swarmed over the mud as the tide went out looking for worms and small shellfish that did not retreat to their holes fast enough. He had been here many times and never noticed the shell, he said, but it had been a week or more since he was last here and so anything could have happened. The officer then turned to Albert and asked him how he had come to watch the afternoon’s activity. Albert calmly explained that he and his young friend here were working on his boat on the River over there; he pointed at the mast of his small yacht, when they noticed that something was up and came to investigate. He also said that he had no idea where the shell may have come from. Roddy felt an inward sigh of relief surge through his body, for he had quickly realized that Albert, by linking him into his story had drawn attention away from him. He had become inconspicuous, just an appendage of Albert in the eyes of the officer and his men. The stranger too, after a sharp glance at him had looked away, the interest fading from his eyes as he did so. 

“What about those other boys who were on the bank with you”, the officer enquired of Albert. 

“Don’t know them but they seem to have been attracted to what was going on when they saw you and your men walking over here carrying all that equipment. I suppose that they were just curious.” 

“Where are they now, “ the officer said as he turned toward bank and scanned it for signs of the rest of the gang. All of them turned and looked also, but of the gang there was not sign, they had melted into the flat landscape without leaving a trace. “ Hmmm,” said the officer, and rubbed his chin, “ I would have liked to speak with those little urchins. Perhaps they know something about this and that is why they scarpered so quickly.”

“Could be,” said Albert, “but they didn’t say anything and one of them said something about being late for tea and getting into trouble with mothers, or something like that.” He said it with such nonchalance and apparent disinterest that the others just nodded and turned their gaze back to the small crater and its encirclement of mud and grass clods.

Roddy, following their gaze, looked in horror at the hole formed by the explosion. If the shell had exploded while they were carrying it they would not have survived. Even if some of them had been wounded, they would not have been able to beat the incoming tide. He had visions of the bodies of his friends strewn over the mud flats with some missing arms or legs and red blood mingling into the slippery brown mud. He imagined the horror on the faces of their parents when they found out and rushed across the Lamby to the edge of the foreshore where they would be forced to stand and watch as police and ambulance men recovered the remains. His mind wandered over other horrific possibilities. What if they had carried it back to the den and it had exploded when the City gang tried to steal it. Would he and his friends have taken the blame? Perhaps the City gang would have stolen it and taken it back to their den where at some later date it would have exploded, neatly eliminating both a threat and the possibility of blame. Peter and he needed to remind everyone to be absolutely quiet about the shell.  Everyone would have to once again swear to complete silence. However that would be difficult given Derec’s bad habit of blurting out things. 

His feverish thoughts were interrupted by Albert’s voice telling him that it was time to get going. He looked up to see that the bomb squad men were already packed and ready to leave. He nodded, Albert gave a wave to the soldiers and they turned and walked in silence across the grass to the River. Roddy did not want to talk and just tramped along, head bowed, watching his feet navigate the springy turf. Reaching the River bank and the dinghy he looked up. The sun was getting low in the sky and he realized that the day was getting late. The fear and tension of the last few hours had made him forget about almost everything else. He didn’t have to ask Albert what time it was, as he knew instinctively that it was probably past the time when it was acceptable to stay out.

“ I have to get home Albert. I’ll just take the short cut across the Lamby to the railway bridge. No need for you to row me upstream.”

Albert nodded and looked back to where the afternoon’s explosive events had unfolded, then back to the River with its line of moored yachts and finally to Roddy. 

“You needn’t be too worried about that shell. Nobody’s going to bother to investigate how it got there. It would take too much time and the police have other puzzles to solve. You know, I did ask the officer of the bomb squad if the shell would have gone off by itself or if it had been dropped and he said that the firing mechanism was probably so old and frozen with rust and corrosion that it would have probably not exploded. They went through all of that rigmarole because it was easier to blow it up in place than to mess around taking it back to their lorry and then taking it somewhere else to make it safe. So you and your friends needn’t get too worked up about the dreadful things that could have happened to you. It was a daft thing to do but folks have done dafter things in my experience.”

He grinned and gave his young shipmate a reassuring pat on his shoulder. Roddy managed a smile back that spread as the relief from what Albert had said washed through him.

“Better that you don’t say anything to your friends about this though as they do need to be quiet about what they did. A little bit of fear and worry will do them some good and help keep their lips from flapping. If they say something about this now, they could get you all into trouble”.

Roddy nodded then, anxious to delay no further and risk even more trouble back at home, he thanked Albert for the afternoon and said that he would come across to the allotment to visit as soon as he could. He then turned and began to run at a steady pace toward the railway bridge and the Lane. 

The exercise relaxed his mind and took away his worries about being connected to the incident of the shell. He had to concentrate and focus on avoiding any sudden dips in the ground or the waterlogged scars left by the turf cutters that could have sent him tumbling over. He also concentrated on his breathing so that he did not become puffed out too soon. He began to relax and fall into the steady rhythm of running. 

The Gang did a lot of running but that was mostly in short bursts such as happened when they chased a football. This long distance running was not usual but Roddy had read and seen pictures of some cross country runners covered in mud and scrambling across a ditch that was still filled with water. That freedom to get as muddy as you liked without getting into trouble had impressed him greatly and he decided that being a cross-country runner was something that he would like to do one day. However, the first time that he tried to run a long way he found that the pain in his legs was miserable and worse was the rasping of his breathing and the tightness in his lungs that made each breath a struggle. So, secretly he had taken to practicing running further and further and getting his body used to the stress. By now he was much stronger and his stamina was such that he lopped quite easily to the railway bridge and was only slowed by the steep ascent of the embankment that led to the bridge. Cresting the bank, he immediately began to look for his friends. They were nowhere to be seen. The bomb squad soldiers appeared to have left also, as there was no sign of a lorry.

Slowing his pace to a gentle walk, he descended the bank from the bridge looking to all sides for signs of his friends. He wanted to go to the den and check there but it was getting late. It was important that he talk to all of them about what he had seen and heard and also to make sure that no one would breathe a word about the their involvement with moving the shell. Perhaps he would go to Peter’s house later in the evening and talk with him, as the person he was most worried about was his brother Derec.