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halfway through his first week he'd howled into Bristol with an eight horse Clayton and Shuttleworth, unreeled his hose and drained the corporation horse trough in town centre before the peelers ran him in. The Clayton hadn't quite exploded but it had been a near go. He'd tried again, up in Aquae Sulis where he wasn't so well known; that time he lasted six months before a broken gauge glass stripped most of the skin from his ankles. De la Haye had moved on, seeking as he put it 'less lethal employment'. Jesse chuckled and shook his head. 'So what be 'ee doin' now?' The insolent eyes laughed back at him. 'A' trade,' said Col breezily. 'A' take what comes; a li'l there.... Times are hard, we must all live how we can. Drink up, ol'Jesse, the next one's mine...' They chewed over old times while Margaret served up pints and took the money, raising her eyebrows at Col. The night de la Haye, pot-valiant, had sworn to strip his professor's cherished walnut tree... 'A' remember that like it was yes'day,' said Col happily. 'Lovely ol' moon there was, bright as day...' Jesse had held the ladder while Col climbed; but before he reached the branches the tree was shaken as if by a hurricane. 'Nuts comin' down like bloody hailstones,' chortled Col. 'Y'remember, Jesse, y'must remember... An' there was that... that bloody ol' rogue of a peeler Toby Warrilow sittin' up there with his big ol' boots stuck out, shakin' the hell out of that bloody tree...' For weeks after that, even de la Haye had been able to do nothing wrong in the eyes of the law; and a whole dormitory had gorged themselves on walnuts for nearly a month. There'd been the business of the two nuns stolen from Sherborne Convent; they'd tried to pin that on de la Haye and hadn't quite managed it, but it had been an open secret who was responsible. Girls in Holy Orders had been removed odd times before, but only Col would have taken two at once. And the affair of the Poet and Peasant. The landlord of that inn, thanks to some personal quirk, kept a large ape chained in the stables; Col, evicted after a singularly rowdy night, had managed to slit the creature's collar. The Godforsaken animal caused troubles and panics for a month; men went armed, women stayed indoors. The thing had finally been shot by a militiaman who caught it in his room drinking a bowl of soup. 'So what you goin' to do now?' asked de la Haye, swigging back his sixth or seventh beer. 'Is your firm now, no?' 'Aye.' Jesse brooded, hands clasped, chin touching his knuckles. 'Goin' to run it, I guess...' Col draped an arm round his shoulders. 'You be OK,' he said. 'You be O K pal, why so sad? Hey, tell you what. You get a li'l girl now, you be all right then. Tha's what you need, ol' Jesse; a' know the signs.' He punched his friend in the ribs and roared with laughter. 'Keep you warm nights better'n a stack of extra blankets. An' stop you getting fat, no?' Jesse looked faintly startled. 'Dunno 'bout that...' 'Ah, hell,' said de la Haye. 'Tha's the thing though. Ah, there's nothin' like it. Mmmmyowwhh...' He wagged his hips, shut his eyes, drew shapes with his hands, contrived to look rapturous and lascivious at the same time. 'Is no trouble now, ol' Jesse,' he said, 'You loaded now, you know that? Hell, man, you're eligible... They come runnin' when they hear, you have to fight 'em off with a... a pushpole couplin', no?' He dissolved again in merriment. Eleven of the clock came round far too quickly. Jesse struggled into his coat, followed Col up the alley beside the pub. It was only when the cold air hit him he realised how stoned he was. He stumbled against de la Haye, then ran into the wall. They reeled along the street laughing, parted company finally at the George. Col, roaring out promises, vanished into the night. Jesse leaned against the Margaret's rear wheel, head laid back on its struts, and felt the beer fume in his brain. When he closed his eyes a slow movement began; the ground seemed to tilt forward and