LESSING
353
His mother had been wrong, thinking he had gone right away. He
and his gang of truants from school were camping in an empty house on
the edge of their town, and from there made forays, shoplifting, break–
ing into shops at night, and at weekends went to nearby towns to hang
about the streets with the local youths, hoping for a fight and some fun.
Ben was their leader because he was so strong, and stood up for them.
So they thought, but really the reason was that inwardly he was mature,
he was a grown man, more of a parent, whereas they were still children.
One by one they were caught, sent to borstal, or returned to parents and
school. One evening he was standing on the edge of a crowd of fighting
youngsters-he did not fight, he was afraid of his strength, his rage–
and he realized he was alone, without companions. For a while he was
one of a gang of much older youths, but he did not dominate them as
he had the young ones. They forced him to steal for them, made fun of
him, jeered at his posh accent. He left them and drifted down to the
West Country where he fell in with a motorbike gang, which was
engaged in warfare with a rival gang. He longed to drive a motorcycle,
but could not get the hang of it. But it was enough to be near them,
these machines, he loved them so. The gang used him to guard their
bikes when they went into a caff, or a pub. They gave him food, and
even a little money sometimes. One night the rival gang found him
standing over half a dozen machines, beat him up, twelve to one, and
left him bleeding. His own gang returned to find a couple of their
machines gone, and were ready to beat him up again but found this
apparently slow stupid oaf transformed into a whirling screaming fight–
ing madman. He nearly killed one of them. Setting on him all together
they subdued him, no bones broken, but again, he was bleeding and
sick. He was taken into a pub by a girl who worked there. She washed
him down, sat him in a corner, gave him something to eat, talked him
into sense again. He was quiet at last, dazed perhaps.
A man came to him, sat down, and asked if he was looking for work.
This was how Ben found himself on the farm. He went with Matthew
Grindly because he knew that from now on any member of the two
gangs seeing him would summon his mates, and he would be beaten up
agam.
The farm was well away from any main road, down an overgrown and
muddy lane. It was neglected, and so was the house, which was large, and
bits of it were shut off where the roof leaked too badly. This farm had
been left twenty years before by their father to Mary Grindly, Matthew
Grindly, and Ted Grindly. A farm, but no money. They were pretty well
self-sufficient, living off their animals, fruit trees, the vegetable garden.
