A Tour de Fate

by P R M Kinloch

  I’ve achieved a lot. I have. I’ve proved it. So that settles the past. Sorry Dad, but right now it’s the future. Yes, what’s next? Where does it all take me now? More endless traipsing over the countryside? Well, it’s the lifestyle, isn’t it? The freedom to... well, come and go as I please. Yes, OK, but what if I want to... not... He trotted on.

  After a while, his conversation started again. That’s the thing, really. I can stop anywhere. Anywhere I like. Don’t have to keep pressing on relentlessly. After all, I’ve seen everything, more or less done it all. Done everything, haven’t I? So, what am I doing? There’s no hurry. Stop anytime, anywhere, for as long as I like! Yes, but I’d want it nice... convenient. Nice views. Handy for what I call shopping. Yes. That would be very nice. Stay there a few days, rest up, before... before moving on again. Nice. Anyway, that’s something for the future.

  He stopped and stood quite still. The future. It’s the moving on bit, isn’t it. This was not a question. It was more like an answer. The future. Endlessly moving on? There was no need to keep going, always watching behind, all the time watching, measuring, calculating risk to benefit, effort over reward, time against hunger. So, in one sense there was always ‘all the time in the world’, but some things wouldn’t wait for ever. Hunger for one, the other was age.

  Yes. Something handy to the shops... And views... Nice... The voice of the future was no longer calling him from a distance. It was telling him right there. He started trotting again. The two sides of his inner conversation were clarifying. Perhaps he was now, not running from something, as towards something. A destination. He wanted to settle down.

  After all, I can afford it.

  35 THE HORN OF PLENTY

  Just as Montague Stump was returning to civilization from Wilder-Ness, the half wolf half fox Hans “Hammerhead” Horn was returning from yet another visit to his debtors in the Badlands far to the north of Diddling.

  Stump was bringing the profits and experience of his years of successful farm management, while Horn was still ruing the day he had won a gigantic loan to set him up handsomely into the future. Monty had finished by safely banking his earnings. Hans Horn had lost his lot in an ambush before he had even started.

  The two were complete opposites, and while they would never meet, their paths would certainly come close. Each would profoundly affect the other, but there was a while to go before that happened.

  Meanwhile, where Montague had lost everything, didn’t miss it, and then gained so much, Horn had never had it but missed it desperately, had suddenly gained so much, lost that - and missed it even more.

  Hans Horn had a constant yearning for winning a “big time” mountain of goodies to become a self-made top-dog crook. So far, his efforts had done nothing but lose most friends, turn influential bullies of the north against him, and earn for himself a mountain of debt.

  Definitely down on his uppers, Horn now lived beyond the outer edges of society, somewhere halfway between his nasty friends to the north and the nice people of Diddling. He had a hideout in the Clumps, a forbidding and rocky area close to Worrywart Woods a whole day’s walk to the northeast from the furthest edge of Diddling. Less if you ran.

  He called his place “Plenty”. The word that made him both sad and wistful. It wasn’t the place of his dreams, but one where he could dream of such a place. He had hopes. Or when he had time, he did.

  This hideout was reasonably extensive, but the mod cons were neither modern nor convenient. Housekeeping was left to local rats and mice who cleaned on a voluntary basis. He lived there with his two rather dim-witted offsiders, Burt Blowback and Hardly Skinner. While these thugs were supposed to do his work, dirty or otherwise, doing anything unsupervised or using their own initiative was not their strong point.

  All three of them spent a lot of their days – and nights - in Diddling. Their combined work experience was quite impressive. shoplifting, thieving, pilfering, stealing, break and entering, fencing stolen goods, uttering, menacing, nuisance-ing standover-ing, bullying, loitering, vagrancing, malingering, pickpocketing, leering, staring, urinating, debt collecting, doorman-ing, removalist-ing, rent-a-crowd-ing, uber-ing, baby-sitting, and so on. Basically, they took on anything that could possibly reduce Horn’s financial problems. A full copy of their CVs, complete with testimonials, witness statements, Court appearances and sentences served, was available from the local police station, Stunk Street, Diddling.

  Horn was constantly running before the wind with his debt payments to the bigger hoodlums in the Badlands up north. And those guys were into everything, involved in every - and he was related to them?

  I’ve got all these rich rellies! Just think what I could... Wow! And yet? He couldn’t understand how that had turned into such a disadvantage. Worse than that, what ill-gotten gains that couldn’t be sold in Diddling he had taken to carting north, a double bummer, considering the added transport costs and lack of bargaining power on arrival – and that was if they got the stuff there without breakages.

  Life for Horn was an uphill battle. He longed for a really big deal to pay off all his debts with enough left over to retire on, of presenting some extraordinary prize to those bullies up north... And then galloping off into the sunset. But it was fast becoming a rather desperate fixation.

  36 A PLACE TO REST ONE’S HEAD

  Among Monty Stump’s now growing thought of settling down lurked an idea quite specific to himself and his own story. It was an idea that had lain dormant simply because it seemed to have no practical application or place in his life. In fact, it was something he had actively rejected. After all, it had characterised all that he had despised about the idle rich. Fairly Fullon’s double bed.

  While its original image had once been at the core of his ideas of all the excess and indolence of those with more money than sense, left to its own devices in the back of his mind, the item itself had undergone something of a change. it could well have become the subconscious kernel at the centre of his desire to settle down.

  Coming back to him now, it was no longer the yardstick of extravagance, nor was it a necessity, at least not yet. Rather, it somehow surfaced in his mind looking innocently like an increasingly attractive alternative to sleeping rough. And, after all, he could indeed afford it.

  In a sense, what had represented everything in his youth from which he had wanted to escape, was now back with him in a different guise. He found himself fantasising that how he wanted to end his days was in the comfort of a double bed.

  Fair enough, he thought, given the tools, and the materials – and the house to put it in of course - it would be no trouble to knock up such a thing. No trouble at all. In fact, he put the matter on the to-do list and put the item itself to bed until the right moment occurred.

  37 STUDYING THE MARKET

  Montague Stump began seeing the countryside in a new light. The idea of just bumming around the countryside had been replaced. He was no longer the tourist leisurely discovering new sights, interesting out of the way places or unusual eating haunts. He was looking for the ideal place to settle.

  Travelling was still fine, but he now had an aim and it felt satisfying, more balanced. Having a goal allowed him to ignore unanswerable questions like success or failure, home and so on. He trotted on happily, mentally taking stock of what he knew of the country and measuring everywhere as a place to live.

  He discounted the vast and empty world to the east, known from his extraordinary trek beyond Worrywart Woods. The Woods themselves might contain a wide variety of terrain, but he dismissed the lot as simply lacking enough to sustain him, certainly physically if not mentally as well.

  Essentially this left him the freedom of the broad valley with the river meandering down its middle. From his geography classes as a kid came the river’s name and the kiddy jokes along with it. The Phlough. Pronounced “Fluff” according to Miss Wish, who had also insisted there was no way across it. Well, he could always swim it, he supposed, not that he’d ever tried
swimming.

  But he’d keep the other side of the river in reserve, knowing nothing about it and having never heard of anyone who did. It seemed completely unexplored and nobody lived there. He didn’t even know where the river went for a lot of the time on its way to the coast. The far side of the river conjured up something as wild and desolate as Worrywart Woods. With the prospect of trying to swim there and back, it meant that side would definitely be a last resort.

  The result confined him to the broad valley stretching well over 1000 kilometres long with a variable but huge expanse between the river and the Woods. A lot of territory. There was still never a thought of returning to his home and heritage. Likewise, the area close to the seaside town of Neese had not been to his liking so anywhere near the sea was out. This still left a huge area, but it gave him somewhere to aim for. He wanted to revisit the countryside around Wallop. He sensed there were more possibilities somewhere in or near the tree line there that might be to his liking. If that drew a blank, he could look for something around the much bigger town of Muddle.

  38 FOLLOWING HIS INSTINCTS

  Montague Stump started seriously searching for a place to establish himself just north of Nock. Before that, the best definition of the area he had come through was ‘arid’. Maybe too severe, but it was certainly dry, empty, lacking in interest. While not particularly taken with the prospect of such a rural setting, he knew that “the right place” or “the dream house” could suddenly occur anywhere.

  To get the most information he was working in broad daylight. He wanted, a place where he could live a normal everyday existence and preferably be accepted in a community. However, his old habits persisted and kept him to the natural cover where possible. There would be plenty of time to get acquainted with locals if and when something definite occurred. Until then, he felt safest keeping the advantage of invisibility as long as possible. In fact, ideally, he would be fully and successfully embedded somewhere before he showed himself in society. That way, he’d have the upper hand. He knew no place would be perfect and expected different gains and losses every time. Maybe not experienced in picking permanent residencies, he was certainly expert in finding discrete short-term accommodation.

  The Nock district was a disappointment. Still dreary, dry and dusty, mostly timbered, country. He wanted less monotony, more hills or something. Down by the river was even flatter and with a few buildings, it meant nowhere even to hide.

  Rather than continue by road down to Wallop, he followed the tree line of the hills, more confident of finding good choices among the hilly terrain. Below the tree line, the country became rolling pastures with the river Phlough visible in the distance curving round and coming in to touch Nock itself. He could see a boatshed and workshop just visible among the trees, then the river swept away to the west. He knew it would swing in again further down towards Wallop. Because of the hills, the sparse little village of Nock disappeared as he continued. The countryside opened up and he found nothing of interest except grass or trees. The reality of digging his own place from scratch in such a bland setting was simply too boring. .

  The tree line having run due south now suddenly turned straight east, away from the river. Then there was a space beside it wide enough for a good road, and then a fence. The fence stretched to the east as far as he could see. It also continued south in place of the tree line. He was standing at the corner of a vast private property. Could he have missed such a thing before? It looked well established, meaning he must have passed by much closer to the river. The fence was tall. It stood well clear of the trees. Dismissing the east, he elected to follow it due south.

  39 SEE SAW

  After a few moments Stump stopped again. Perhaps that space along the east fence might lead to something? And surely that fence wouldn’t go on for ever? The chances of anything seriously worth looking at seemed slim, but he was there with the opportunity. It might be worth just a quick look.

  He doubled back around the corner, deciding to go just to the first rise, or to wherever he could get a long view of the terrain. When he did top the rise, he stopped. It seemed there was only more of the same. In front of him, the ground dipped. At its lowest point he spied an odd little depression in the ground at the fence. Now that he had spotted it, curiosity drew him.

  As if something under the ground had weakened just there, the soil had sunk. It was enough for him to crawl through, maybe, but without the satchel. He looked around. Down there in dip, his view along the fence was limited. It also meant, just there he couldn’t be seen. The invitation was too strong to resist. He went into the trees, hid his satchel, noted where he’d hidden it, then went back to the fence. He squeezed and wriggled. With some difficulty he was under and through.

  Cautiously raising his head, he found he was in a vast area of rolling grassland. In the distance were buildings. Closer and down the slope from him was a giant tree with lots of activity going on beneath it. Many rabbits, a couple of hares, piles of different sized stones, mounds of sand. A sort of contraption was slung in the tree.

  Spaced on either side of the main trunk were sling arrangements. Each had its own team either adding to or subtracting from whatever was already in their sling. He noticed the slings tended to move up or down. Most often, if one went up a bit, the other side went down. Sometimes the bushy branch lowered just so much and then both sides went down a bit.

  He was puzzled. If they were trying to bring the branch down, then they needed a bit more coordination. Were the two sides supposed to be working together or opposed to each other? If coordination was the aim, then they were hopeless. Surely, they had to be after something else.

  He observed the left going down, and right going up. Or right going down and left up. Or both going down. He looked for both sides going up. Otherwise, what was the point? He’d seen every combination except that. It was a logical expectation, and not happening. Stump turned to go.

  At that moment, a huge resounding ‘Crack’ reached him. He looked back to see a massive branch had snapped and was falling. Its bushy sub-branches were in the throes of thrashing about and everyone was running around in a panic. Probably some were trapped.

  Something caught his eye to his right. ALARM! Two large dogs – well, in that moment they seemed a lot bigger than him – had come over the rise, probably attracted by the noise. They had spotted Stump and were charging full pelt towards him. Turning, Stump dived for the fence and squirmed for his life.

  Pulling himself out on the other side, he ran straight for the trees. Grabbing his satchel, he fled deeper, then waited. His heart was racing as if totally out of control. He was getting too old for this! On the other hand, would he be feeling so unnerved if he was half his age? Actually, yes, he thought. They were trained guards, and they were coming!

  After an hour, no one had come looking for him. He circled wide to look back at the hole under the fence from a distance. All clear. He circled again to come directly looking across at the hole. Nobody.

  Those dogs could easily have torn the hole larger and followed him. But they hadn’t. Quite clearly, they patrolled inside the fence only.

  Interesting. The whole experience was interesting. And he’d gained useful knowledge – even if he didn’t understand any of it.

  40 MEMORIES

  He retraced his steps along the fence back to the corner, doing so quite openly, although instinctively he kept looking back to confirm his judgement. At the corner, he turned left and continued his run south.

  The countryside was changing. He was now among cultivated fields, he felt more and more exposed. The fence turned east again, so he stopped. Everything around him up to the fence was worked fields. He was on private property.

  Now on the lookout for locals, he reckoned there would surely be at least one farmhouse, most likely on the other side of the coming hill, or the one after.

  The top of a very green tree could be seen on the other side of the first rise. He remembered none of this from his previo
us journey south or coming back north, so he must have been keeping further down either on the road or at least on the old track. He was pretty sure that somewhere down there was the village of Wallop. From memory, the river was there as well. He had never set foot in the village.

  With the fence running away to the east, he worried about continuing due south. It was so open, he would be very exposed. If he went east with the fence, there might be a less open way to continue south. This was probably the best bet. Otherwise, he would try nearer to the river and village.

  He followed the fence east until it again turned south to skirt the fields as hoped. He heard the dogs. They were still on the other side of the fence and definitely working together. More than that, they had an interest in him: when he stopped, they stopped, when he moved, they moved.

  He couldn’t really hear what they were saying, but if they were just guarding the property, that was fine by him. He was not going to buy in or bust in. What he did wonder was, were they there to keep people out, or to keep people in? Unless perhaps they themselves were also prisoners! Unlikely. But why would anyone be kept behind such a huge fence? Who would be kept like that? For that matter, who was doing the keeping? What exactly had he witnesses back there with the tree? Lots of questions but no answers.

  The fence turned east again, along which he saw some gates with an access road striking south from them. He left the fence and continued straight south. Looking back across the fields to his right, he could see a farmhouse with the green tree now behind it. Another tree stood in front of the house. He could make out at least one shed, gardens and what he guessed to be a chicken house and area.