thickly, “You? What you doin' here? This no place for young buggers just turned sixteen.” He roughly pulled his uncle's arm. “Come on, we're goin' home.” “And since when—d'you think you can talk to me like that? You're not my bloody kid. You might be the boss's blow-by-night, but that don't mean you can push me round. Jus' the boss's blow-by-night—” and he laughed obscenely. The boy didn't know what he meant, but had a fair idea when he heard somebody titter. He flushed red. Old Meg came hustling up. “The boy's father's no fault of his. You hear? You shut your big mouth.” The boy did the best thing possible: stalked out, into the night. Hardly knowing where he was going, he groped over to Jim's truck, sat there, felt the carton by his feet, bent down and cracked one. Half-way through the second, he saw Hen. pause a shaky moment in the light and stagger out. Silent as a shadow the boy was out of the cab. His hands were shaking. He'd kill the pokokohua. He took his uncle from behind, wrapped an arm round his throat. “Wha' did ya say ‘bout my old man? Eh? Eh?” His uncle was clawing and fumbling, the boy let go, let him drop to the grass. “I want to know. who was my old man?” And he stood there with his boot ready. “Okay. You arst for it. Your ole man was the biggest bastard I ever seen. He left your ma when she was six months gone. If it weren't for me you'd never of been born even. An' this is all the thanks I get. A nice boy, she says. By Christ, boy, you only got one friend in the world—and that's the one you treat worst. Jus' take a look at—” but the boy was gone. Crouched over the handlebars, exhaust roaring at an indifferent world, wind whipping at his jacket, eyes slitted and peering into the hostile dark, he tore up the long road, houses slipping away behind him. But it was a dead-end. He chopped her to second and swung in a tight Uturn—too tight. The road slammed him on the side of the head. The motor was clattering crazily. He reached over, killed it and lay there. The dust settled and all was still. He forced himself up, painfully, raised a hand to his face, drew it quickly away. Just a graze. There was a tear in one leg of his trousers. Nothing else. Even the bike seemed all right. As if he knew exactly where he was going and