All the Little Animals Page #3

about that mouse of yours sometime.

Right now, I think

you should get some sleep.

Mr. Summers?

I did that a lot,

that summer in Cornwall.

I spent a lot of time

watching the tiny things

go about their business

in the grass.

I used to have dreams

with my eyes open.

Sometimes it was as if

I was as small

as the things

I was watching.

I used to go in beside them

somehow,

and everything

was big around me.

Sometimes I got

lost in there,

but when I got frightened,

I always came back to being me again,

so I never cried.

All those tiny things

seemed to be going somewhere.

I never found out

where it was.

Good morning, boy.

- Where have you been?

- I've been into town, shopping.

Got a few things

for you.

Come on in,

I'll show you.

So, then,

I got you

some boots...

and a sleeping bag.

There it is.

And a knapsack of your own.

A thermos.

Oh, yes, and a trowel,

for digging.

And a toothbrush.

Oh, wait.

I got you this.

Well, come on then, boy.

Open it up.

Oh, brilliant!

I've always...

thanks...

thanks for everything, but I've always

really wanted one of these knives.

Hey, it's not a big town,

but the shops are very good

because of the holiday-makers

and the tourists, you see.

Now, I'll get us

some lunch.

Then we've got

to make a start.

We've got some

especially important work.

We've got a lepidopterist

to deal with.

What does the lepidopterist do

with the dead moths?

He sticks pins

in them, boy.

Keeps them in cases

with glass tops.

He collects them,

thousands of them.

Why does he have

to kill them?

Why can't he look at them

when they're alive?

He kills them because he sees

nothing wrong with killing them.

Also, they're very easy

to catch... and kill.

How does he do it,

Mr. Summers?

You'll see, boy.

You'll see tonight.

- What's that he's got?

- It's a deceitful machine.

It's a light so bright

that all the moths and insects

are attracted from miles around,

tricked by the light,

you see?

We're gonna put

his light out.

How?

Smash it, boy.

Smash it.

I've been here once before

and I've smashed it once before.

Is it part of the work?

Yes.

Can I do it?

What?

I don't know.

Please.

All right.

Why not?

You'll be able to run faster than me,

that's for sure.

Take this stone.

Run as close

as you dare,

and throw it right in the center.

Throw it as hard as you can.

Smash it.

You think

you can do that?

- Yeah, I can do that.

- Good.

Now!

Run!

Do it!

Come on, for God's sake.

Do it!

Hey! Hey!

Good boy.

Mr. Summers. Mr. Summers!

Shh! It's me.

Come on, hurry, boy.

Hurry!

What about the dog?

Don't worry about him.

Look.

I told you I've been here before.

Come on, hurry!

Did I do it right?

Yes, Bobby.

I have to say,

you did it very right.

How do you feel?

I feel fine.

I'm a bit tired,

I'm really fine.

The first day was the most exciting

of all my days

with Mr. Summers

because of the attack

on the lepidopterist's light.

We never did

anything else like that,

although Mr. Summers had plenty

of plans and schemes.

The rest of the time,

we walked up and down

the narrow, twisty roads,

burying the animals

the cars had squashed.

Curious carving,

isn't it?

- It's an elephant.

- That's right. It is.

As our bit of Cornwall got more

and more packed with holiday-makers,

there were many more cars...

many more deaths.

You maniac!

Get out of here,

lunatic!

It was important work,

but sad.

Mr. Summers

got crosser and crosser

and took to drinking whiskey

out of the bottle during the day.

He said awful things

about the people in the cars,

though I thought

they looked quite ordinary.

But he was always

very nice to me.

Aw, Mr. Summers, look.

Oh, no.

Not a badger.

Poor creature.

Must have been

knocked over last night.

Why?

Why, in God's name?

Will somebody

tell me why?

He's so beautiful,

isn't he?

He's big.

I had no idea they were this big.

He's too big

to bury around here.

We'll collect him in the evening

and bury him somewhere special.

Need to get him

off the road.

Come on, Bobby.

Pick him up.

That's it.

Bring him over here.

Let's put him

over by the wall.

That's good.

He can't be seen from there.

We'll pick him up

and we'll bury him later.

Bastards.

Bloody bastards.

Damn it, I made a mistake.

We don't want to be involved in all this.

Come on, Bobby.

But it would be nice to get

ice-cream, wouldn't it?

All right.

Come on.

All right.

Yeah.

Don't be long.

You know I don't much like the beach

with the holiday people there.

- I'll wait for you here.

- Okay.

Thanks, Mr. Summers.

Don't worry, I won't be long.

Come on, let's go.

Bobby.

Is it really you,

Bobby?

Where have you been?

Bernard's been looking for you

all over the place.

Come and have

an ice-cream.

No, I've got to get back.

- Is there someone waiting for you?

- Yeah.

No, no. It's just...

It's all right. Calm down.

Calm down.

Let's go and get

that ice-cream.

- Call the office.

- Yeah, I'll call them.

Why did you run away, Bobby?

- I was frightened.

- Frightened?

What were you

frightened of?

Of him.

Of him. Of The Fat,

my stepfather.

I don't understand.

He was horrible.

He killed my pet mouse.

He said he was going to send me

away to a hospital, forever.

Steady on, Bobby.

I can accept that he's...

I mean, not exactly the same sort of person

your mother was,

but he's not as bad

as all that, surely?

Two vanilla cones, please.

Is that with flakes?

Flake? No, no without the flake.

Thank you.

- Without. Two scoops, dear?

- Bobby. Come back!

Bobby!

Bobby!

Wait!

Bobby!

Where am I?

Mr. Summers!

Lost.

How could you

be so stupid?

Mr. Summers.

Um-hm?

I've got something

to tell you.

Would this "something"

have anything to do

with the day

you got lost on the beach?

Yes, it would.

But it's not just that.

It's my whole story.

You wouldn't understand

unless I tell you my whole story.

That man was...

Mr. Whiteside

is his name.

It took ages.

We sat and smoked

one cigarette after another

while I told him

what had happened

on the beach

with Mr. Whiteside.

I told him all that

and went right back

to the beginning

and told him

about my mother,

and the store,

and The Fat.

I told him

about Peter, the mouse

and about how The Fat

had killed him.

And how frightened

I was.

Then I told him

about getting knocked down

by a car in the high street

when I was little,

and not being well

ever since.

I told him about the nurses

and the tutors

and never having

to go to school.

I told him

about Dean

and running away

to Cornwall.

Then I asked him

if I had to go away.

No, Bobby.

You don't have

to go away.

Can I keep on

with the work?

Yes.

Can I live here

with you?

Yes, you can.

Mr. Summers...

Yeah?

I love you.

But I'm worried about...

about...

Mr. Whiteside might...

tell The Fat that I'm

in this part of the country.

He might try

to look for me.

I've already told you

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