Ah, Sweet Mystery of Life

We both went outside and Claud gave the woman the number of gallons she wanted. When she had gone, he remained standing in the middle of the driveway squinting anxiously up at the sun which was now only the width of a

man’s hand above the line of trees along the crest of the ridge on the far side of the valley.

‘All right,’ I said. ‘Lock up.’

He went quickly from pump to pump, securing each nozzle in its holder with a small padlock.

‘You’d better take off that yellow pullover,’ he said.

‘Why should I?’

‘You’ll be shining like a bloody beacon out there in the moonlight.’

‘I’ll be all right.’

‘You will not,’ he said. ‘Take it off, Gordon, please. I’ll see you in three minutes.’ He disappeared into his caravan behind the filling-station, and I went indoors and changed my yellow pullover for a blue one.

When we met again outside, Claud was dressed in a pair of black trousers and a dark-green turtleneck sweater. On his head he wore a brown cloth cap with the peak pulled down low over his eyes, and he looked like an apache actor out of a nightclub.

‘What’s under there?’ I asked, seeing the bulge at his waistline.

He pulled up his sweater and showed me two thin but very large white cotton sacks which were bound neat and tight around his belly. ‘To carry the stuff,’ he said darkly.

‘I see.’

‘Let’s go,’ he said.

‘I still think we ought to take the car.’

‘It’s too risky. They’ll see it parked.’

‘But it’s over three miles up to that wood.’

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘And I suppose you realise we can get six months in the clink if they catch us.’

‘You never told me that.’

‘Didn’t I?’

‘I’m not coming,’ I said. ‘It’s not worth it.’

‘The walk will do you good, Gordon. Come on.’

It was a calm sunny evening with little wisps of brilliant white cloud hanging motionless in the sky, and the valley was cool and very quiet as the two of us began walking together along the grass verge on the side of the road that ran between the hills toward Oxford.

‘You got the raisins?’ Claud asked.

‘They’re in my pocket.’

‘Good,’ he said. ‘Marvellous.’

Ten minutes later we turned left off the main road into a narrow lane with high hedges on either side and from now on it was all uphill.

‘How many keepers are there?’ I asked.

‘Three.’

Claud threw away a half-finished cigarette. A minute later he lit another.