Now, what’s that? Ah, see here,’ Gorbals taps the page, ‘it’s an old word for a bridge-builder. Listen to this, Tuck. In ancient times, people thought the making of a bridge was such a miraculous skill that it must be inspired by the gods. A pontifex was an almost sacred title. A great bridge-builder was treated like a god.’ Tuck listens, mesmerized, as Gorbals puts down the book and tells him about the vast bridges of the New World. Miraculous, impossible things that stretch across seas. And as he listens, Tuck begins to think of his own Da in a new way. Not as an ordinary gypsea worker but as a hero with a sacred skill, inspired by the gods. And he wasn’t an ordinary bridger, Tuck remembers, he was said to be one of the best bridge-masters on Pomperoy. People said you could always tell a Jack Culpy bridge because it wasn’t just a way of getting from one place to the next, it was unusual, intricate, a tough and beautiful thing of sea-scavenged wire and rope. Now Tuck remembers his Da’s fascination with spiders’ webs.
