He's a bit of a handyman. Or at least, so Mr Parker seems to think. No matter, he'll soon be on that train east to India from these wet lakeland fells. Just as soon as he's finished that little job Mr Parker asked him to do.
It wasn't much of a holiday, anyway. As the tourists trickled away from the campsite, so did the sunshine, and the hot water and the provisions at the local shop, and even the good beer. Still, there seemed to be plenty of work to take his mind off these minor disappointments - as much as he cared to do, including the daughter's homework. And payment could be discussed later. Meanwhile, he was really beginning to fit in, to become one of the local fixtures, down the pub, on the farm, on the lake. Maybe that trip east could wait?
In this cautionary tale of labour and capital, of innocence and experience, Magnus Mills takes us to the rural circuits where neither cash nor unemployment are much prized - and makes it conclusively his own turf.
