‘You’re really askin’ for it, ain’t you?’ Raymond said.
‘I’m simply asking to be left alone,’ Peter said. ‘I haven’t done you any harm.’
‘You’re a stuck-up little squirt,’ Ernie said. ‘That’s exactly what you are, a stuck-up little squirt.’
Raymond leaned over and whispered something in Ernie’s ear. Ernie listened intently. Then he slapped his thigh and said, ‘I like it! It’s a great idea!’
Ernie placed his gun on the ground and advanced upon the small boy. He grabbed him and threw him to the ground. Raymond took the roll of string from his pocket and cut off a length of it. Together, they forced the boy’s arms in front of him and tied his wrists together tight.
‘Now the legs,’ Raymond said. Peter struggled and received a punch in the stomach. That winded him and he lay still. Next, they tied his ankles together with more string. He was now trussed up like a chicken and completely helpless.
Ernie picked up his gun, and then, with his other hand, he grabbed one of Peter’s arms. Raymond grabbed the other arm and together they began to drag the boy over the grass towards the railway lines.
Peter kept absolutely quiet. Whatever it was they were up to, talking to them wasn’t going to help matters.
They dragged their victim down the embankment and on to the railway lines themselves. Then one took the arms and the other the feet and they lifted him up and laid him down again lengthwise right between two lines.
‘You’re mad!’ Peter said. ‘You can’t do this!’
‘’Oo says we can’t? This is just a little lesson we’re teachin’ you not to be cheeky.’
‘More string,’ Ernie said.
Raymond produced the ball of string and the two larger boys now proceeded to tie the victim down in such a way that he couldn’t wriggle away from between the rails. They did this by looping string around each of his arms and then threading the string under the rails on either side. They did the same with his middle body and his ankles. When they had finished, Peter Watson was strung down helpless and virtually immobile between the rails. The only parts of his body he could move to any extent were his head and feet.
Ernie and Raymond stepped back to survey their handiwork. ‘We done a nice job,’ Ernie said.
‘There’s trains every ’arf ’our on this line,’ Raymond said. ‘We ain’t gonna ’ave long to wait.’
‘This is murder!’ cried the small boy lying between the rails.
‘No it ain’t,’ Raymond told him. ‘It ain’t anything of the sort.’
‘Let me go! Please let me go! I’ll be killed if a train comes along!’
‘If you are killed, sonny boy,’ Ernie said, ‘it’ll be your own ruddy fault and I’ll tell you why. Because if you lift your ’ead up like you’re doin’ now, then you’ve ’ad it, chum! You keep down flat and you might just possibly get away with it. On the other ’and, you might not because I ain’t exactly sure ’ow much clearance them trains’ve got underneath. You ’appen to know, Raymond, ’ow much clearance them trains got underneath?’
‘Very little,’ Raymond said. ‘They’re built ever so close to the ground.’
‘Might be enough and it might not,’ Ernie said.
‘Let’s put it this way,’ Raymond said. ‘It’d probably just about be enough for an ordinary person like me or you, Ernie. But Mister Watson ’ere I’m not so sure about and I’ll tell you why.’
‘Tell me,’ Ernie said, egging him on.
‘Mister Watson ’ere’s got an extra big ’ead, that’s why. ’Ee’s so flippin’ big-’eaded I personally think the bottom bit of the train’s goin’ to scrape ’im whatever ’appens. I’m not saying it’s goin’ to take ’is ’ead off, mind you. In fact, I’m pretty sure it ain’t goin’ to do that. But it’s goin’ to give ’is face a good old scrapin’ over. You can be quite sure of that.’