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Some lunatic dabbed one place then others followed. Ten to one they're Nazis or' his voice dropped 'somebody's got a grudge against him in the 203 to where Robbie was standing at the end of the long room, his hand moving slowly back and forwards over the top of a small table. Then looking at Harry again, he said, "I suppose you'll be around for some time, we'll be back later."

When Harry joined Robbie he stood looking at his grim face for a moment before he said, "Don't take this to heart; as the constable said you're highly respected in the town and ..."

"Huh!" There was a slight pause after the exclamation; then again came the "Huh ! ', louder this time, and now Robbie's eyes were hard on Harry as" he asked, "Have you any idea who could have done this? I mean a vestige of an idea, can you think of anybody?"

Harry had to force himself to keep his gaze on the face before him.

Youth seemed to have left it; he had to look into the eyes in which he recognised a hate as deep as was in his own son, and it hurt him. He had never connected Robbie Dunn with hate. Hate and John, yes. He bad recognised hate in his son at a very early age. Hate of everyone who opposed him. In the early days the hate had taken the form of sulks, but now it had matured and taken a tar brush in its hand. And the reason for this was twofold: he wasn't only tarring a Jew, he was tarring his father who was divorcing his mother to marry a Jewess.

Gall's reaction to his connection with Janet was hurtful, and not quite understandable, but his son's attitude was frightening. Yet in a way he had been expecting it. The action had shocked him but not surprised him. What would have surprised him would have been John's acceptance of the situation.

"Well, do you?" Robbie asked again, his voice hard and the question pointed. And when Harry lowered his head and shook it, he once more emitted the telling syllable "Huh!" and looked at the man who was shortly to become his step-father and whom up to a short while ago he had liked better than any other per son in his life, except his mother.

But now he wanted to yell at him, "Well! I'll tell you who it was, it was your son." But were he to do that, the relationship between the three of them would be severed for good. This was something he must accept, at least for the time being; but let him meet up with Master John Blenheim on the quiet, then by God there would be a settlement.

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) ". " - "^'ai-atiuiiig here. Petrol 'll be the best thing; there's a can out in the back although I don't think that'll go very far ..."

And it didn't. It took four cans of petrol and five hours work to clean off the three words. The hardest part was getting it off the brickwork, and during the whole process they hardly exchanged a word.

It wasn't until they were cleaning themselves up in the back shop and the outer door opened and Sid came in, that the conversation took on a lively note.

"What's this I'm hearing?" said Sid.

"The shop's been tarred? I had just gone into The Stag when I heard.

Bloody lot of mad bastards. What they want to go and do that to you for? You're well liked .,. Well, aren't you?"

Robbie looked at his assistant. Sid was a big individual, honest enough but without an overdose of intelligence, yet in a three- worded statement and a similar worded question he had pointed out the difference between their nationalities. They had both been born in this town, within a stone's throw of each other but it was as if he and his kind were, at best, tolerated: "You're well liked." The inference was, he was a tame wolf being singled out of a pack.

Around Bog's End there were Indians and Arabs, West Africans, Jamaicans, Chinese, and Greeks, but their businesses were not stamped with their nationality in tar, perhaps because, except for the Chinese and Greeks, none of the others had businesses. His was not the first shop that had had Jew written across it, and for a different reason from that which motivated John Blenheim. Jealousy was at the bottom of a lot of it, jealousy, because most Jews had the knack of surviving in the business world. They could build on a shilling; some had started on even less. Sid worked for him but whether he was aware of it or not he envied him, and yes, gormless as he was, dared to despise him.

He made himself say evenly, "It was the carnival spirit, I suppose, an'

it's a pity you didn't hear of it two or three hours since, we could have done with a hand."

A few minutes later, as Robbie was locking up, Sid said, "What about the night? They might try it on again. Don't you think we should stay on watch, take our turns like?" And

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" " ^ "" ---o-i. " /. xnv-tl glancing over his shoulder at Harry, he asked, What do you say?"

For the moment Harry made no reply; the look and the question certainly meant more than they said. He gulped before he answered, "The carnival's over, they'll have cooled down."

It was about eleven o'clock on the Monday morning when the three young men entered the shop. One had longish hair, one wore a brown tweed jacket over a purple pullover, the third one was in blue jeans and a windcheater; they could have been three lads from Bog's End, but Robbie knew immediately that these were the Technical wallahs.

"Mr. Dunn?" It was the one in the windcheater who spoke. He didn't say "I want to see Mr. Dunn'; he seemed to know whom he was addressing and Robbie said abruptly, " That's me. "

"We're from the Technical College."

Aye. "

The young man hesitated then said, "We represent the Carnival Committee and I understand that we ... I mean some member of the College has been blamed for disfiguring your shop window."

That's right. "

Again the young man hesitated, then said, "Well Sir, I want you to believe that all the fellows who were in the carnival have been up before the Principal and they have sworn they had no hand in what was done; in fact they are incensed that they are being blamed for it."

Robbie stared at the young man. He was a good six inches taller than himself. He had called him Mr. Dunn, and Sir. He could scarcely remember being called Mr. Dunn before, and never, never, had he been addressed as Sir. He liked this fellow in the windcheater and he wanted to say to him, "That's all right; I don't blame any of you," but he did blame one of them and he'd like to bet Mr. John Blenheim wasn't among the number who were indignant. What he said was, "Well, there's one thing for sure, it didn't get there by itself."

The young men stared at him, they were obviously embarrassed; even their spokesman didn't know what to say next until Robbie said, "Well, anyway, I appreciate you comin' along,"

obliged to as it was a stigma on us an' all. "

Stigma. They didn't like having a stigma put on them. It was a stigma on us an' all. The word Jew was a stigma.

Perhaps it was the look on Robbie's face that told the spokesman that his companion had made an unfortunate remark for he said quickly, "I'm I'm glad you understand, Sir; I hope you won't have any more trouble."

Robbie nodded to this and the three of them, speaking almost simultaneously, said, "Good-bye, Sir."

Again he nodded. Then he watched them go out of the shop. He watched them until they were out of sight across the road and he told himself not to let that remark turn the chip on his shoulder into a plank. The fellow hadn't meant it like that; they were decent blokes else they wouldn't have come along and apologised.

Yet this moderate attitude did nothing to lessen the overall feeling of rage that was seething in him. He felt burnt up inside. If he could have talked to his mother about the matter it might have helped but if she even thought it was Harry's son who had done this to him she would immediately lay the cause at her own door. But there remained one person he could talk to; he could go to Miss Blenheim and give her a message for her bloody brother, a warning message. Yes, that's what he would do, and now. He'd catch her coming out at lunch time; it wasn't likely that the family watch-dogs would pick her up to take her to lunch . ^ It was just on twelve when he stopped the car some little distance from the shop and prepared himself to wait until one o'clock if need be; but it was only two minutes later when he saw Gail come out of the shop and walk rapidly down the street.

Abruptly he started the car and drove along the kerb, but lost sight of her when he had to round a parked car, and when she came in view again she was standing on the corner waiting to cross. In a second he had brought the car alongside the kerb and looking out of the window, he called, "Gail 1 Hi there, Gail I Get in."

She had been about to step into the road and when she heard his voice and turned and saw him she swayed a moment, then

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*.tm^an.AAAg dO 01Hsaid, " No, no. "

"Get in, I tell you. If you don't I'll follow you. I'm holding up the traffic, get in."

"I can't... no."

He was leaning side wards one hand on the handle of the part open door, and he let it swing wide as he said, "Do as I tell you, get in."

He watched her look swiftly along the street from where was coming the impatient tooting of horns. He was on the corner of a narrow road at an angle that would make it a danger for anyone to pass him. He bawled now, "I'm stayin' until you get in."

When with a flounce of her body she entered the car he started up almost before she had closed the door and, rounding the corner, he shot up the street, crossed an intersecting road, then made for the quiet outskirts of Jesmond.

It was -she who spoke first.

"Stop the car, I want to get out," she said.

"You'll get out when I say what I've come to say." He kept his eyes on the road ahead while he spoke.

"What you frightened' of? Catching something? Leprosy, say?"

"Robbie 1' Her voice was pleading now.

"Don't go any further, please.

I've got to be back in half-an-hour. Miss Frazer's got an appointment.

"

"Poor soul. Then I'm afraid she'll have to break it."

"Robbie, please, please stop."

"I'll stop when I'm good and ready and not afore. You can wave your hand out of the window; there's the polis ahead. He'd have the squad car after me in no time. Go on and try it."

"Don't be silly." Her voice was no longer pleading, but harsh.

With a screeching of brakes and an abruptness that brought her brow almost in contact with the windscreen, the car came to a halt.

Her head was still bobbing when she said angrily, "What are you trying to do, kill us ?"

"I shouldn't be a bit surprised."

"You're mad."

"Aye, I am." His face was thrust towards her now.

"But not

She turned her head away from him and, drooping it slightly, she said,

"Look, I explained all I can explain."

"Oh, that's another matter altogether." His voice was airy now.

"We'll come to that later. I'm not mad about you deciding not to condescend to visit us any more; we should I suppose, have been grateful for your previous visits."

She was staring at him now and he, ignoring her distressed look, went on, "Your retaliation to the fact that your father was going to marry me mother took the form of cutting us oft so to speak. But your brother's retaliation took a different form altogether. It's that I want to talk about."

"What!" Her head was poked forward.

"What do you mean? Which...?"

"Oh, you needn't say which one. Terry's no sneak in the night; Terry wouldn't hide behind a carnival to do his dirty work, then let other folk get the blame for it. No, you know which brother I'm referring to and it's ten to one you know what he was up to. You don't tar somebody's shop in a hurry without getting messed up, unless you wore overalls, and then you'd have to put them somewhere . "

"Robbie." His name was just a whisper now and she repeated it again, slightly louder, trying to get him to stop talking.

"Robbie, what... what are you saying?"

"Haven't you been listening?"

"You're inferring that John tarred your shop?"

"I'm not inferring any such thing, I'm damn well tellin' you straight out. He left a message on it in tar, the letters two foot high, and they said "

DIRTY LITTLE JEW"."

Her hand moved slowly up to her cheek and her fingers cupped her ears as if in pain.

It seemed a long time before she said weakly, "No! He wouldn't."

Wouldn't he? Well he did. "

"But... but have you proof?."

"Yes, yes, I've proof."

How? "

He paused before he said "The word " LITTLE". DIRTY LITTLE JEW. Some other bloke would have just put DIRTY

TEW but your dear brotner naa usea mat term on inc aiorc.

Her fingers were tapping nervously at her lips now and she looked away from him and down the road as she said, "I can't believe he would go to those lengths."

"No?" His voice was high.

"But you do believe that he would be capable of doing something', don't you?"

She turned to him again and now she said quietly, "Yes."

"Oh, well, that's something'." , They stared at each other in silence for a full minute and then Robbie, suddenly turning from her, said,

"Blasted bloody swine, that's what he is, a cowardly blasted swine; getting at me because he can't get at his father or me mother." And rounding on her again he said, "I want you to go back and tell him that I know it was him an' that if he makes just one more move in my direction in any way I'll have the polis on him so quickly he won't know what's happened till he's hanging on to his cell bars. You tell him that from me."

Again they were staring at each other in silence; and then, straining his neck out of his collar, he said, "Well now, I've had me say and you're free to go. I'll drive you back if you like or you can get off here, it's all the same to me."

When he saw her lips tremble he thought, Oh, my God. Let me get out of this.

"Well, what's it to be?" His tone was thick and rasping, even ugly.