Danny  Ch. 7 (1)  
Page 49-55

5. Read Story

Page 49

The Baby Austin

Part 1

Inside the caravan
I stood on a chair
and lit the oil lamp
in the ceiling.

I had
some weekend homework
to do
and this was
as good a time
as any
to do it.

Page 50

I laid
my books out
on the table
and sat down.

But
I found it
impossible
to keep my mind
on my work.

The clock said
half-past seven.

This was
the twilight
time.

He would be there
now.

I pictured him
in his old
navy-blue sweater
and peaked cap
walking soft-footed
up the track
towards the wood.

He told me
he wore the sweater
because navy-blue
hardly showed up at all
in the dark.

Black
was even better,
he said.

But he didn’t have
a black one
and navy-blue
was next best.

The peaked cap
was important
too,
he explained,

because
the peak
cast a shadow
over
one’s face.

Just about now
he would be
wriggling through
the hedge
and entering
the wood.

Inside the wood
I could see him
treading carefully
over
the leafy ground,
stopping,
listening,
going on
again,
and all the time
searching and searching
for the keeper
who would somewhere
be standing
still as a post
beside a big tree
with a gun
under his arm.

Keepers
hardly move
at all
when they are in a wood
watching
for poachers,
he had told me.

They stand
dead still
right up
against the trunk
of a tree

and it’s not easy
to spot
a motionless man
in that position
at twilight

when the shadows
are as dark
as a wolf’s mouth.

I closed
my books.

It was no good
trying to work.
I decided
to go to bed
instead.

I undressed
and put on
my pajamas
and climbed into
my bunk.

I left
the lamp
burning.

Soon
I fell asleep.

When I opened
my eyes again,
the oil-lamp
was still glowing
and the clock
on the wall
said
ten minutes
past two.

Ten minutes
past two!

I jumped out of
my bunk
and looked into
the bunk
above mine.

It was
empty.

Page 51

He had promised
he would be home
by ten-thirty
at the latest,
and he never
broke promises.

He was nearly
four hours
overdue!

At that moment,
a frightful sense
of doom
came over me.

Something
really had happened
to him
this time.

I felt quite certain
of it.

Hold it,
I told myself.

Don’t get panicky.

Last week
you got
all panicky
and you made
a bit of a fool
of yourself.

Yes,
but
last week
was a different thing
altogether.

He had made
no promises to me
last week.

This time
he had said,

‘I promise
I’ll be back
by ten thirty.’

Those were
his exact words.

And he never,
absolutely never,
broke a promise.

I looked again
at the clock.

He had left
the caravan
at six,
which meant
he had been gone
over
eight
hours!

It took me
two seconds
to decide
what I
should do.

Very quickly
I stripped off
my pajamas
and put on
my shirt
and
my jeans.

Perhaps
the keepers
had shot him up
so badly
he couldn’t walk.

I pulled my sweater
over
my head.

It was
neither navy-blue
nor black.

It was
a sort of
pale brown.

It would
have to do.

Perhaps
he was lying in the wood
bleeding
to death.

My sneakers
were the wrong color
too.

They were white.

But they were also
dirty
and that took
a lot of the whiteness
away.

How long
would it take me
to get
to the wood?
An hour
and a half.

Less
if I ran
most of the way,
but not
much less.

As I bent down
to tie the laces,
I noticed
my hands
were shaking.

And my stomach
had that awful
prickly feeling
as though it
were full
of small
needles.

I ran down
the steps
of the caravan
and across to the workshop
to get the torch (flashlight).

Page 52

A torch
is a good
companion
when you are
alone outdoors
at night
and I wanted it
with me.

I grabbed the torch
and went out of
the workshop.

I paused
for a moment
beside the pumps.

The moon
had long since disappeared
but the sky was clear
and a great mass
of stars
was wheeling
above my head.

There was no wind
at all,
no sound
of any kind.

To my right,
going away
into the blackness
of the countryside,
lay the lonely road
that led
to the dangerous wood.

Six-
and-
a-half
miles.

Thank heavens
I knew the way.

But it was going to be
a long
hard
slog.

I must try
to keep a good
steady pace
and not run myself
to a standstill
in the first mile.

At that point
a wild
and marvelous idea
came to me.

Why shouldn’t
I go
in the Baby Austin?

I really did know
how to drive.

My father
had always allowed me
to move the cars around
when they came in
for repair.

He let me drive them
into the workshop
and back them out again
afterwards.

And sometimes
I drove one of them
slowly around the pumps
in first gear.

I loved
doing it.

And I
would get there
much
much quicker
if I went
by car.

This was
an
emergency.

If he was wounded
and bleeding badly,
then every minute
counted.

I had never driven
on the road,
but I would surely
not meet
any other cars
at this time
of night.

I would go
very slowly
and keep close
in to the hedge
on the proper side.

I went back
to the workshop
and switched on
the light.

I opened
the double doors.

I got into
the driver’s seat
of the Baby Austin.

I turned on
the ignition key.


I pulled out
the choke.

Page 53

I found
the starter-button
(on the floor near the gearbox)
and pressed it.

The motor
coughed once,
then started.

Now for the lights.
There was
a pointed switch
on the dash-board
and I turned it
to S
for side lights
only.

The sidelights
came on.

I felt for
the clutch pedal
with my toe.

I was just able
to reach it,
but I had to point
my toe
if I wanted
to press it
all the way
down.

I pressed it down.

Then
I slipped
the gear lever
into reverse.

Slowly
I backed the car
out of the workshop.

I left her
ticking over
and went back
to switch off
the workshop light.

It was better
to keep everything
looking as normal
as possible.

The filling-station
was in darkness now
except for
a dim light
coming from the caravan
where the little oil-lamp
was still burning.

I decided
to leave that on.
I got back
into the car.

I closed the door.


The sidelights
were so dim
I hardly knew
they were there.

I switched on
the headlamps.

That was better.

I searched
for the dipper
with my foot.

I found it.

I tried it
and it worked.

I put the headlamps
on full.

If I met
another car,
I must remember
to dip them,

although
actually
they weren’t bright enough
to dazzle
a cockroach.

They didn’t give
any more light
than a couple
of good torches.

I pressed down
the clutch pedal
again
and pushed
the gear-lever
into first.


This was it.

My heart
was thumping away
so fiercely
I could hear it
in my throat.

Ten yards away
lay
the main road.

It was as dark
as doomsday.

I released the clutch
very slowly.

At the same time,
I pressed down
just a fraction
of an inch
on the accelerator
with my right toe,
and stealthily,
oh most wonderfully,
the little car
began to lean forward
and steal into motion.

Page 54

I pressed
a shade harder
on the accelerator.

We crept out of
the filling-station
on to
the dark deserted road.

I will not pretend
I wasn’t
petrified.

I was.

But mixed in
with the awful fear
was a glorious feeling
of excitement.

Most of
the really
exciting things
we do
in our lives
scare us
to death.

They wouldn’t be exciting
if they didn’t.

I sat very stiff
and upright
in my seat,
gripping
the steering-wheel tight
with both hands.

My eyes
were about level
with the top
of the steering-wheel.

I could have
done with
a cushion
to raise me
up higher,
but
it was too late
for that.

The road
seemed awfully narrow
in the dark.

I knew
there was room enough
for two cars
to pass each other.

Page 55

I had seen them
from the filling-station
doing it
a million times.

But
it didn’t look
that way
to me
from where
I was.

At any moment
something
with blazing headlamps
might come
roaring towards me
at sixty miles
an hour,
a heavy lorry
or one of those
big
long-distance buses
that travel
through the night
full of passengers.

Was I too much
in the middle
of the road?

Yes, I was.

But I didn’t want
to pull in closer
for fear
of hitting
the bank.

If I hit the bank
and bust the front axle,
then all
would be lost
and I would never
get my father
home.

The motor
was beginning
to rattle
and shake.

I was still
in first gear.

It was vital
to change up
into second
otherwise
the engine
would get
too hot.

I knew how
the change
was done
but
I had never
actually tried
doing it.

Around the filling-station
I had always
stayed
in first gear.

Well,
here goes.

I eased my foot
off
the accelerator.

I pressed
the clutch down
and held it
there.

I found
the gear-lever
and pulled it
straight back,
from first
into second.

I released
the clutch
and pressed on
the
accelerator.

The little car
leaped forward
as though
it had been
stung.

We were
in second gear.

What speed
were we going?

I glanced
at the
speedometer.

It was lit up
very faintly,
but I was able
to read it.

It said
fifteen miles
an hour.
Good.

That was
quite fast
enough.
I would stay
in second gear.

I started
figuring out
how long
it would take me
to do six miles
travelling
at fifteen miles
an hour.


At sixty miles
an hour,
six miles
would take
six minutes.

At thirty,
it would take
twice as long,
twelve minutes.

At fifteen,
it would take
twice as long
again,
twenty-four minutes.