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twisted out of a dreadful bottle.
    Dodger uncoiled himself from the blanket, gratefully took the soup that Solomon handed wordlessly to him, and then the old man went back to his workbench with its pedal-powered lathe, and soon there was a homely, busy little noise that would have made Dodger think of grasshoppers in a field, if he had ever seen a grasshopper or, for that matter, a field. Whatever you thought it was though, it was comforting, and as the soup did its work of recovery and the grasshoppers danced, Dodger told the old man, well, everything – about the girl, about Charlie, about Mrs Quickly and about Grandad – and Solomon said not one word until Dodger was empty of words of his own, and then he murmured, ‘You had a busy day, bubele, and a great shame about your friend, Grandad mmm, may his soul rest comfortably.’
    Dodger wailed, ‘But I left him there to be eaten by rats! He told me to!’
    Sometimes Solomon talked as if he had just woken up and remembered something; a curious little mmm sound that came out, something close to the chirping of a little bird, heralding what he had to say next. Dodger never really understood what the automatic mmm stood for. It was a friendly noise and it seemed to him that Solomon was winding up for the next thought; you got used to it after a while and missed it when it wasn’t there.
    Now Solomon said, ‘Mmm, was that any better or worse than being eaten by worms? It is the fate of all mankind, alas. You were with him when he died mmm, his friend? So that is a good thing. I have met the gentleman in the past, and I suppose he must be mmm oh, thirty-three? A very good age for a tosher, and from what you say he saw his Lady. Sad to reflect that I myself am mmm fifty-four, though thankfully in good health. You were lucky to meet me, Dodger, just as I indeed was lucky to meet you. You know about keeping clean and about putting money by. We boil water before we drink it, and I’m pleased to say I have mmm made you aware of the possibility of cleaning your teeth, which is why mmm, my dear, you still have some. Grandad died as he had lived and so you will remember him fondly but not mourn unduly. Toshers die young; what else can you expect if you spend half your life messing about in mess? You never see a Jewish tosher – you can’t be a kosher tosher! Remember fondly your friend Grandad, and learn what lessons you can from his life and death.’ And the grasshoppers continued to dance, sizzling as they did so.
    Dodger could now hear a fight down in the street somewhere. Well, there was always a fight; fights sprouted up like a fungus, usually because a lot of people all pushed together in these wretched, dirty slums ended up not just at the end of their tether but right off it completely. He had heard people say that the drink was behind it all, but well, you
had
to drink beer. Yes, too much of it made you drunk, but on the other hand water out of the pump might quite likely make you dead, unless you boiled it first and had the money for coal or wood. That had to wait its turn, after the food and the beer (usually the other way around).
    He thought, I believe that Grandad had the death he wanted. But surely no one should want a death like that? I can’t say it would do for me. There was suddenly another thought: if that isn’t what I want, then what is it I should strive for? It was a surprising little thought, one of those that hangs around out of general view until it pops up like a wart. He placed it behind his ear, as it were, for future deliberation.
    Solomon was talking again. ‘Mmm, as for your Mister Charlie, I’ve heard of him down at the synagogue. He is a sharp cove, he is, sharp as a razor, sharp as a snake, so they tell me. They say he can take one look at you and he’s got a perfect study of you, from the way you talk down to the way you pick your nose. He is in with the police too, as tight as a tick with them, so now old Solomon is thinking, why did a