Above His Station Read Online Free PDF Page B

of yours sorted out first, mate,’ said the rat. ‘You’ll be sat down then so it’ll make it easier.’
    ‘How will that make it easier?’ I asked.
    ‘Because then if you pass out you wont have so far to fall.’
    ‘I see,’ I said, grabbing the first aid kit from behind the driver’s seat.
    Something in the corner of my eye made me flinch and the hairiest bloody spider I’ve ever seen in my life scuttled out from under the control panel. I leapt in shock and stamped on the thing, squashing it flat.
    ‘Did you have to do that?’ asked the rat, in an accusatory fashion.
    ‘I hate spiders,’ was my defence. ‘Ever since I was a boy and my father threw one in the water when I was taking a bath. He said he was ‘ teaching me to face my fears ’. It made me less afraid of spiders, but even more afraid of baths - hence why they used to call me ‘Pongo’ at school.’
    ‘I can relate,’ nodded the rat.
    We moved into the passenger car, where I pulled down my ripped trousers. I flinched as the material tore at my wounds. As I’d earlier surmised, the cuts weren’t that deep; the tiger’s claws had only caught me a glancing blow and they looked worse than they actually were. Even so, I shuddered to think how close I came to my end. At my age, I accepted that death was approaching at pace, but not quite at that speed, thank you very much!
    Sat in my underpants with my trousers down around my ankles, I rummaged through the first aid kit. I hadn’t expected to find a needle and thread to stitch up my leg, so I wasn’t that surprised not to. I was fine with that as I dislike needles profusely. I dislike having my leg raked by a man-eating tiger profusely too, of course, but my hands were shaking so much that I couldn’t sew up my own leg even if I wanted to, and I could hardly ask the rat to do it. Who knows what germs I might catch?
    I took a bottle of mineral water from my satchel and poured some of it over my wounds. Once the blood had been washed away, I took some gauze and bandages from the first aid kit and wrapped them around my thigh tightly. It itched something chronic, but it was better than nothing. Hitching up my trousers, I grabbed hold of the bars by my seat and pulled myself up. My wounds were sore, but only mildly uncomfortable – until I put all my weight on my right leg and found myself flopping back down into my seat with an indecorous yelp. I could have done with a crutch or walking cane, but as neither was to be found, I ground my teeth on the pain that burrowed into my bones.
    ‘I need to get up to street level,’ I told the rat.
    ‘Bad idea, Gramps. You won’t like what you find once you get up there.’
    ‘Even so,’ I said. ‘I need to phone my daughter and let her know that I’m okay. Plus, I need to report that whole business with the tiger.’
    ‘Report it to who exactly?’ asked the rat.
    ‘To my employers, of course! To the TFL head office if need be!’ I limped from the train and back out onto the platform. ‘I just don’t understand how a tiger could get loose and no one’s even looking for it. It doesn’t make any sense at all.’
    ‘Nothing makes sense this morning, Gramps,’ said the rat.
    ‘I mean…all this doesn’t exactly bode well for my future employment, does it? First the train to pick me up is late, then nobody turns up to meet me like they were supposed to, then the only exit out of here is locked…and that’s before we’ve even got to the part about the exploding tiger. I must admit, I find all of this highly irregular!’
    ‘I’d be more worried if you didn’t,’ said the rat. ‘But I think I might be able to help you out with at least one of your problems. I found these amongst the driver’s clothes.’
    I spun around, elated to see the rat holding a bunch of keys.
    I snatched them from its tiny hands and couldn’t get over to the gate fast enough, my fingers trembling as I tried the keys in turn. The first three wouldn’t even fit