TEN
It most definitely was not a man-eating tiger.
Catapults tucked safely in the back pockets of their baggy well-patched grey shorts, the twins slunk out of the bottom end of Victoria Street before their mam could see them and call them back in to do jobs or run errands.
At the end of Ashbrook Road, they turned up Whitton Lane, heading towards the Church and then Marley Hill. As they walked along past the row of houses, they both looked at each one and nodded.
‘Buggerman,’ said Isaac.
‘Aye, the buggerman,’ responded Saul.
‘BUGGERMAN, BUGGERMAN, BUGGERMAN,’ they chanted softly to each other, like a tribal war cry. ‘BUGGERMAN, BUGGERMAN.’
Mrs Jim Comby, who had been cleaning up at the vicarage, looked askance at them as they marched past by her, heads down, so intent in their chanti
