Beau Death

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The kid was forever asking questions.

‘What are those people doing, Dad?’

‘I don’t know, son. Just looking.’

‘Why?’

‘Why what?’

‘Why are they looking?’

‘It’s some kind of building site. The contractors put those high fences round for safety, but some people like to see what’s going on, so they make little windows in the panels.’

‘What’s a contractor, Dad?’

‘Never mind.’

‘Can I look through the little windows?’

‘Not now, son. We don’t have time.’

‘Please.’

‘No.’

The kid had been taught the basic courtesies and he was smart enough to use them to get his way. ‘Please, Dad. Please.’

‘Only for a moment, then.’

They crossed the road to the billboards and of course the observation window was too high for the kid, so the father had to lift him.

‘What’s that, Dad?’

‘I can’t see while I’m holding you.’

‘That big ball.’

‘What are you talking about? Let’s have a look.’ The father held the kid aside for a moment. ‘I see what you mean. That’s a wrecking ball, son. You don’t see them much these days. They’re demolishing some old houses.’ This, he now decided as a caring parent, was not such a waste of time, but should be part of the kid’s education. ‘It’s using what we call kinetic energy. The ball is solid steel, really heavy and hanging on a chain from the top of the crane high above the houses. The man in control pulls the ball back towards his cab with another chain and gives it a good swing at the building, like the conkers you and I played with last year. It smashes into the wall and knocks it down.’ He shouted, ‘Wow! Just like that.’

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