Noose by Bill James Page B

police,’ his wife said.
    â€˜I agree,’ Mrs Charteris said. ‘Well, you go, Mr Bell.’
    Mrs Bell said, ‘No.’
    Mr Bell replied he had to keep guard.
    â€˜Yes, he has to keep guard,’ his wife said.
    â€˜Guard what?’ Ian’s mother asked.
    â€˜This is a situation where someone to keep guard is very necessary,’ Mrs Bell said.
    Ian thought that Mr and Mrs Bell meant somebody must guard the one with the knife and make sure he didn’t escape. But Mr Bell was very wheezy and thin. He should eat more of his own fish and chips. He would not be able to stop the man if he wanted to go or if he became angry with someone else. He still had the knife open. Mr Bell said Ian should go. There’d be police in Larch Street because of the bombs and fire there. Perhaps even the mansion had been hit or the Gospel Hall.
    â€˜Sure to be police in Larch Street,’ his wife said. ‘They would be worried about the mansion and I think the Gospel Hall Sunday school were having their after-Christmas party there this evening.’
    â€˜The lad can wear this in case of shrapnel,’ Mr Bell added. He had a grey, metal helmet by his side on the bench. Ian went and put it on. It was too big but Mr Bell tightened the strap under Ian’s chin. He began to feel grown-up and necessary, as though he had become someone else. He liked that. Although the helmet was heavy, Ian didn’t mind. It had to be thick and strong to stop the shrapnel which might be sharp and falling very fast. Or if a building collapsed near you bricks might fall and hit your head.
    â€˜No, Ian,’ his mother said. He could tell she felt she’d lost him because of the helmet, as though he had put on army uniform and gone to the war.
    â€˜It’s necessary,’ Mrs Bell said. ‘And a doctor will be needed too.’
    â€˜That man doesn’t need a doctor,’ Mr Bell said.
    â€˜A doctor to say he’s dead,’ Mrs Bell said.
    â€˜Doctors will be busy tonight, dealing with the injured,’ Mrs Charteris said.
    â€˜Just the same, he has to be certified,’ Mrs Bell said. She nodded towards the man on the floor.
    Ian said he’d be all right and would come straight back from Larch Street. If he found a policeman, the copper would know what to do about a doctor.
    â€˜He’ll be all right,’ Mr Bell said. ‘The other boy, the older one, has some shock.’ He meant Clifford. Ian felt proud to be doing something with a helmet on that Clifford could not do, even though he was older at fifteen.
    â€˜Well,
you
go, if you’re so sure it will be all right,’ Ian’s mother said to Mr Bell.
    Ian said Mr Bell had to be a guard. Ian knew Mr Bell would be no good at it, but he kept quiet about that, or he would have seemed cruel to someone who had lent him a grown-up’s helmet. And Ian wanted to go to Larch Street and look for a policeman just to show he could do it, even though the raid might start again.
    â€˜That helmet suits your son,’ Mrs Bell said. ‘When the raid is over you and the boys can come to the shop for chips
and
fish free.’
    â€˜Yes,’ Mr Bell agreed.
    It was very cold. Ian went through the lane to Larch Street. All of one part of the street was down or burning and half the big mansion at the far end of the street had also been torn away. Ian could make out a bed and a wardrobe upstairs, where the wall of the room had gone. He saw a fire engine and two ambulances. Flames from one of the houses lit up the smashed mansion. Five or six firemen were pouring water from hosepipes on to the blaze. The water froze in the gutters. The builder of these streets had put up this big home for himself, known as a mansion, with a high wall at the back and the River Taff right in front, just before its mouth into the Channel.
    Ian thought the builder must know now it had been foolish to place that mansion there, especially if he was