What did they mean?

‘I tell you, he is like us. Look at him. He doesn’t know nothing.’

They all agreed and then their hands, instead of pulling and pummelling, began to pat him. They asked him where he was going and he said nowhere, so they said he must go with them and when he asked where that was they told him down by the river where it used to run, there by the big pipes— ‘They are warm and we sleep well and we have bread and water’—showing him their crusts and bottles. One of them took his hand and led him as they trotted away happily. The pack had grown by one and now numbered eight.

On the way he noticed among other things that the oldest was a head higher than himself, while the youngest was so small he had to be carried because he was tired.

At the river there was a steep footpath down to the stony bed. Because it was new to him, he missed his footing at one point and rolled nearly all the way down, but he didn’t cry. When he got up he spat and sneezed out the sand in his mouth and nose. ‘You will learn,’ they said. And to prove it the one who had held his hand ran quickly to the top, called to him from there, and then came running down again. ‘In the dark,’ he said, ‘I did it in the dark.’

Then they sat down to eat and this, like everything else they did, was very serious. The bottles of water, two of them, stopped with plugs of paper, were passed around and the bread and the orange peels broken up and shared out in equal portions. The youngest, the one they had carried, caused the others great concern by not touching his food. They left off eating and drinking their own to try and urge him on. ‘Eat.’ ‘Take it Simon.’ ‘Bread and peels man.’ ‘Dip it in your water.’

Simon wore an old coat sizes too big. When he walked it trailed behind him like a bridal gown. Now he was hidden, almost lost in its voluminous folds. He made no move to eat. So they unbuttoned the coat and the leader took out a box of matches and struck a light and they all looked at Simon’s belly. It was bigger, they agreed. Bigger than yesterday because it was broader than the rest of his body and as stiff as a drum.

Simon sat through their inspection and listened to their remarks with the implacability of a small Buddha.

‘Like Willie,’ they said. ‘He’s going like Willie.’

‘Who’s Willie?’ David asked.

‘We put him away,’ was the reply.

Then someone had the idea that since Willie was no more, and the new one had no name, why not call him Willie. It was an idea, they agreed, taking turns to say ‘Willie’ and nudge the new boy, until he also said, ‘Willie.’ The others laughed.