Mortal Ghost | Page 2

it less
than him.
Jesse fumbled in his pocket for the cigarette he'd picked up. Bent but
only a trifle dirty at the tip -- perfectly smokeable. He straightened,
then lit it with one of his last matches. Back propped against the rock,
he inhaled deeply and watched the river.
The cigarette did little to dull his hunger. Inadvertently, he found
himself picturing bacon crisping in a cast-iron frying pan, a loaf of his
grandmother's bread, a bowl of rich yellow butter. Saliva spurted into
his mouth. He forced the memory into retreat -- not that road.
Cigarette finished, Jesse licked his fingertips, pinched it out with his
usual meticulousness, and dropped the butt back into his pocket. Then
he took out his well-thumbed copy of The Tempest. With a few pounds,
he'd be able to buy some second-hand paperbacks. Unlike most other

kids on the street, he wouldn't nick anything, not even an apple from
the market. He only wished he had a place to store the books. If he kept
going at this rate, by winter it would be a real problem to carry them
around. Of course, by winter there would be other problems --
problems a little more pressing than his luggage. He smiled to himself.
Nothing was worse than taking yourself too seriously.
The dog kept its distance at first. The two-leg was mumbling under his
breath, twisting a length of hair around his finger and tugging on it. He
smelled worn and musty, like a discarded shoe. The dog edged closer.
It sniffed at a crushed tin, scratched itself. Loud staccato cough: the dog
slunk back. The street had taught it caution, even patience.
A small movement caught the corner of Jesse's eye. He whipped his
head round. Not again, he thought, shutting his book. So many of his
mistakes came back to haunt him. The dog moved closer, licked at
Jesse's hand.
'What do you want? I've got nothing to feed you.'
The dog stared up at him with large, sentimental eyes. A big skinny
creature, black fur dirty and matted, but otherwise in pretty good shape.
Jesse wondered how it managed so well on the street.
'I bet you could teach me a thing or two,' he said.
Jesse stood, jingling the coins in his pocket. They hadn't earned any
interest overnight -- just enough for a hot drink and a hamburger. No
doubt a sell-by loaf and some milk would be smarter, but at the burger
places they usually didn't notice how long you used the lavatory. He
could at least brush his teeth, maybe wash his neck and hair. Stripping
would be risky, unless he could bolt the door. Few people had seen him
without pants, no one without his T-shirt. He didn't do naked.
Jesse glanced at the sky. The cloud cover resembled an old greying
sheet, thin cheap cotton to begin with, the kind they gave you in those
rundown places where, for a few quid, you could get a bed for the night
-- he'd slept a couple of times in one or another of them when he had

some money and was desperate for a real mattress and real roof and
real shower -- the kind of linen that didn't even remember white, that
you could put your foot through, and did. Only here it was the sun that
was breaking through the crumpled and dingy fabric.
The rain would hold off for a few hours. Ample time to eat and find
shelter. It was bad enough being dirty and bedraggled, but a wet T-shirt
was uncomfortable and wet jeans, a torment. He had only one change
of clothes, none too clean. Filthy, actually. He knew there were certain
things he could do -- or allow to be done to him -- that would get him a
night or two in someone's flat, bathroom and washing machine
privileges included. He'd go back to Mal before it came to that.
Jesse packed up his meagre possessions. He'd follow the river south for
a while, then thread west to the nearest McDonald's. Though he ignored
it, the dog trotted along beside him. After a few steps, Jesse paused to
glower.
'Go away,' he said. 'Leave me alone. I can't take on a dog.'
The dog stopped, cocked his head, whined a little.
'I mean it. Get lost,' Jesse said. He stamped his foot and lunged towards
the dog, who retreated fearfully.
Jesse resumed his walk, a bit faster now. The breeze off the river
ruffled his hair, the freshness of the air more country than city. He
waited several minutes before glancing behind him. The dog stood
there, irresolute. Jesse could tell that it wanted to follow, but didn't
quite dare. Jesse didn't like the way this made him feel