Eight Days of Luke (9 page)

“I like Alan,” he said, when the game finished. “Don't you?”

“Who's Alan?” Luke said vaguely. Then he seemed to remember. “Oh—I suppose he's all right,” he said.

David, as he walked home through Ashbury, wondered if this was another example of Luke's strangeness. But it could equally well have been because Luke was so worried about Mr. Chew. Beside Mr. Chew, Alan or anyone else did seem rather unimportant.

Trouble began again when David, clean, changed and tidy, came in to lunch.

“Ah, David,” said Aunt Dot. “Why did you not tell me you had met that charming and nicely spoken child who was here this morning? What is his name?”

“Luke,” said Astrid, raising her eyebrows at David.

“Yes, Luke,” said Aunt Dot. “He tells me he lives with Mr. and Mrs. Fry at the end of the road. At least,” she corrected herself, because she was always very strict about facts, “I asked if he did and he said Yes.”

David wondered how Luke was ever going to keep up this piece of dishonesty. Would it be possible to persuade courteous old Mr. Fry to join in? David rather thought not. “I met Mr. Fry this morning,” he said, hoping Aunt Dot would see it as supporting evidence. “He said they were going to call on you, him and Mrs. Fry.”

Uncle Bernard at once went frail. “My dear Dot, I can't meet these people. Not at my time of life.”

“Nonsense, Bernard,” said Aunt Dot. “David, I think it very impolite of you not to have introduced Luke to us before this.”

David sighed. Aunt Dot always contrived to blame him about something, even when she was pleased. “I only met him on Sunday,” he explained.

“Then you should have introduced him at
once
,” said Aunt Dot. “As he is exactly the companion I would have chosen for you, I want you to bring him here this afternoon.”

David knew this was out of the question, because of Mr. Chew. So he was forced into a piece of dishonesty of his own. “Luke can't come out this afternoon. His cousin's come—on a visit, you know.”

“Then bring him tomorrow,” said Aunt Dot.

David was heartily relieved when lunch was over. He had arranged to meet Luke in the recreation ground, so, as soon as he had changed, he left the house and scudded down the front drive to the gate. He got a very nasty shock when Mr. Chew stood up from behind a wheelbarrow and took hold of his arm.

Mr. Chew was quite as strong as he looked. David tugged mightily to get his arm away, but Mr. Chew's great arm did not even tremble. The horny fingers simply closed a trifle.

“And where were you going?” said Mr. Chew.

“Nowhere,” said David. “Let go.”

“Going to meet someone,” said Mr. Chew. “Perhaps I'll come too.”

“I'm not going to meet anyone. Let go. I'm only—I've only come out because my Aunt wanted me to pick some flowers,” David lied. After all, Mr. Chew was not to know he was forbidden to touch flowers.

Mr. Chew let go of David's arm and, putting his great hands on his hips, backed round until he was between David and the gate. “Go on,” he said. “Let's see you.”

David rubbed his arm and saw that he was not going to get past Mr. Chew in a hurry. He would have to wait. He turned to go back into the house.

“Oh no,” said Mr. Chew. “Come back. Pick flowers. Let's see you.”

David turned round, and was suddenly filled with black rage against Mr. Chew. “All right,” he said. “I'll pick flowers. So there!”

And under Mr. Chew's sarcastic eye, he picked flowers, right and left, all down each side of the path. He was too angry to care. When he had a big bunch of Cousin Ronald's geraniums, he thrust them toward Mr. Chew's beaked nose.

“There,” he said. “Flowers. Smell.”

“Beautiful,” said Mr. Chew, without turning a hair.

David swung round and stalked back into the house with the bunch of geraniums, knowing that, in his relations' eyes, he could not have been more of a criminal if each flower had been a dead body. Like a murderer trying to cover his crime, he crept upstairs with them and into the best spare bedroom, where he remembered there was a very ugly jug. He filled it with water, stuffed the flowers in it, and spread them out a bit. They did not look very nice. Then, deciding that the place where they were least likely to be noticed was somewhere where there often were flowers, he tiptoed past Aunt Dot's room and arranged them on the landing windowsill. Then he fled guiltily to his own room.

And there he was forced to stay. Every time he tried to get out of the house, Mr. Chew was there, whether he tried at the front, the side or the back. David gave up in the end and crossly read a book.

The flowers were discovered during supper. Cousin Ronald was busy boring everyone about what an excellent gardener Mr. Chew was, with slightly more interesting digressions on why England drew with Australia in the Test, when Mrs. Thirsk came in, carrying the ugly jug.

“I think you ought to see this,” she said.

David drew a deep angry breath and thought he might have known it would be Mrs. Thirsk who found out.

“My Worcester!” said Aunt Dot.

“My geraniums!” said Cousin Ronald.

“David!” said Uncle Bernard vigorously.

“They were on the landing windowsill,” explained righteous Mrs. Thirsk.

“I think that was a very nice thought,” Astrid said unexpectedly. The rest, David included, stared at her in astonishment. Astrid went rather red. “Flowers are always a nice thought,” she said.

“It was pure disobedience,” said Cousin Ronald.

“I'm sure David was only trying to please,” said Astrid. “There's never any pleasing you, Ronald. Can't you tell a nice thought when you see one?”

“My geraniums are not a nice thought,” said Cousin Ronald. “And that jug is valuable.”

“You can go to bed, boy,” said Uncle Bernard. “Here and now.”

“Without supper?” David said, truly dismayed.

“Exactly,” said Aunt Dot.

David got up to go. But he did not see why Mr. Chew should get away with his bullying. “Mr. Chew told me to pick them,” he said.

“None of your lies,” said Cousin Ronald. “Chew is an excellent fellow.”

“If you ask me, he's more like the Abominable Snowman,” said Astrid.

“We were not asking you,” said Uncle Bernard. “Leave the room, David.”

David trailed to the door, past triumphant Mrs. Thirsk. Behind him, Astrid said: “You deprive him of supper just because of a bunch of flowers! To hear you, you'd think geraniums were more important than people!”

As David walked upstairs, there was a clamor of voices in the dining room, suggesting that everyone, down to Mrs. Thirsk, had turned on Astrid. David had known them do that before from time to time. He trailed to his room. Mr. Chew was still gardening away outside, so there was no possibility of fetching Luke for company. David began a long barren evening—no Luke, no doodles, no supper.

Almost no supper. Two hours or so later, someone thumped on the door. David answered it with a forsaken mutter and hoped they would go away. To his surprise, Astrid put her head round the door, looking rather white and red round the eyes. “Here,” she said. “I can't see you go hungry. Catch!”

David caught—in the slips it would have counted as a very good catch—a large packet of biscuits. “Thanks,” he said.

“Don't mench,” said Astrid. “I can't stay. Dot says to remind you to bring Luke tomorrow.” Before David could tell her this was impossible, Astrid had gone.

When your bed is full of biscuit crumbs, you wake early. David woke very early, among crumbs, sunshine and birdsong, and went at once to the window in hopes that Mr. Chew had not yet arrived.

Mr. Chew was there. He was standing in the middle of the dewy lawn, talking to another man. David, as Luke had done the day before, got himself away from the center of the window at once and looked at them round the edge of the curtain. The other man had his back to the house, and what David could see of him looked ordinary and respectable enough. He was taller than Mr. Chew and nothing like so wide, and he was wearing the kind of dark suit that Cousin Ronald's friends usually wore. But Cousin Ronald's friends did not usually walk in the dew with Mr. Chew.

Mr. Chew was doing most of the talking. David saw him wave one great arm up the garden and suspected he was telling the other man about the rebuilt wall. Then, after more gestures, he swung round and pointed at the house, straight at David's window. The stranger turned to look. David saw nothing of what followed, because he was pressed against the wall beside the window hoping he had not been seen. When he dared to look again, the stranger had gone. Mr. Chew was digging viciously at a rose bed, and the only living things near him were some big black birds watching the spade for worms.

“You think you've got me, don't you?” David said to the distant Mr. Chew. “Well, you're wrong. You've not got me, and you've not got Luke either. I'll get out this morning. You'll see.”

A vow like this is easy to make but not so easy to fulfill. For what seemed ages, David hung about after breakfast, waiting for Mr. Chew's attention to be fixed elsewhere, but, at the same time, he did not dare let Aunt Dot see him, because he was in his jeans, now very grubby and comfortable indeed. Aunt Dot was anxious to see him. David heard her say several times: “Where
is
David? I want him to bring his friend here.”

“I did remind him, Dot,” Astrid said.

“It is not merely reminding David needs,” Aunt Dot replied. “If he is to remember a thing, it must be dinned in his ears.”

David had several narrow escapes while Aunt Dot irritably searched for him. But at last what he had been hoping for happened. Cousin Ronald marched masterfully up the garden to tell Mr. Chew how to spray roses. Mr. Chew pushed his dirty hat back, scratched his wiry hair, and gave Cousin Ronald his attention. David pelted for the front door.

“David!” said Aunt Dot from the rear.

This is the kind of summons you ignore. David slammed the front door, shot down the drive and was out of the gate before the echoes from the door had died away. Down the road he went, a hurried jog-trot, with the matches rattling on his hip, wondering where it would be safe to strike one and fetch Luke. Courteous old Mr. Fry had caught someone else that morning. He was waving his rose-spray earnestly while he talked to a man in a dark suit, who was leaning with one hand on Mr. Fry's gate, nodding and smiling pleasantly at Mr. Fry.

Something about the shape of that dark suit caused David's steps to slow, then to halt altogether. It could have been the man who was talking to Mr. Chew. Not quite sure, David stood still, about a wicket-length away.

Mr. Fry saw him and waved the rose-spray. “Good morning, my young friend!”

The man leaning on the gate turned, casually and pleasantly, to see who Mr. Fry was calling to. His face was perfectly pleasant. But David's stomach pitched about, because the way he turned was the same as the way he had turned when Mr. Chew pointed to David's window.

“Morning,” David called to Mr. Fry. Then, with his hands in his pockets, he turned and sauntered back the way he had come. He tried to look casual and carefree, but he was seething with frustration and rather frightened too. The road was a dead end. The only way out was past Mr. Fry's house, and the stranger was posted there. No wonder Mr. Chew could afford to give Cousin Ronald his attention.

Miserably, David went back into the house and pulled the door shut. Miserably, he trudged up to his room and sat on his bed, wondering how he was to get out of the house and warn Luke there were now two people after him. He simply could not see how to do it.

As he sat there, he heard voices downstairs. He could tell that Aunt Dot was still looking for him to make him fetch Luke. Fetch Luke! It was just like Aunt Dot to make things really difficult. The best thing was to stay quiet and hope she gave up.

But a minute later, hurried feet pounded on the stairs. Someone gave a hasty bang at his door and burst in. It was Astrid.

“Oh, there you are!” she said. “Thank goodness! Quick, get into those good clothes, or Dot'll eat us both, and then make haste to the drawing room. You're wanted.”

“All right.” Sighing, David stood up.

“Hurry!” said Astrid. “She'll come herself in a minute!”

David hurried, feeling that this was all he needed to make this the worst day of the holiday. Three minutes later, he was ready and Astrid was rapidly brushing his hair, with hard prickly swipes. “There,” she said. “Now run.”

“Drawing room?” David asked, puzzled. It was a big stiffly furnished room in the front of the house where he was very seldom allowed to go.

“Yes,” said Astrid. “And run.”

David did not exactly see the need to run, but he went fairly swiftly downstairs and quite briskly into the drawing room. There he stopped as if he had walked into a wall. The stranger in the dark suit turned toward him with a pleasant smile. He was standing in the middle of the room, quite at his ease. Around him, Aunt Dot, Uncle Bernard and Cousin Ronald did not look at ease at all. Cousin Ronald looked almost ill, yellow and pinched and much more like Uncle Bernard than usual.