Borribles Go For Broke, The Read Online Free PDF Page A

Borrible loaded a stone, then he gave a piercing whistle between his teeth and the head and hands of a colleague appeared on the first balcony. He too held a catapult.
    A yard or two away from the steps Twilight stopped and, his movements deliberate, showed his own catapult and then returned it to his pocket.
    What Twilight had done was important. The catapult is the Borribles’ traditional weapon and they have used it for generations because of its simplicity and deadliness. It can be made anywhere, and long ago in the nineteenth century, when Borribles endured great hardships, it had become their favourite method of defence. By showing his catapult Twilight had indicated that he was a Borrible and by putting it away he had made it obvious that he came in peace.
    ‘I’m Borrible,’ said Twilight, ‘and me and these two are looking for a Borrible called Vulge; he lives round here. These girls were on the Great Rumble Hunt with him.’

    The Stepney Borrible put his catapult away. He waved a hand and his friend on the balcony disappeared. ‘Show us an ear,’ he said.
    Chalotte lifted her long hair slightly. The Borrible nodded, satisfied.
    ‘Great Rumble Hunt, those two? Don’t look as if they could cross the road on their own. Still I’ll take your word for it, thousands wouldn’t … Tell me what Vulge looks like, if you’re a friend of his.’
    Chalotte described him as Sydney had. ‘And he’s got a limp now,’ she added, ‘where he was wounded in Rumbledom.’
    The Stepney Borrible nodded. ‘All right, go round the back of here, over Halley Street, up by the canal towards Oceans Estate, and opposite the recreation ground you’ll see some abandoned houses. The third one down is the one you want … I dunno, girls.’
    Chalotte glared at him. ‘I could take your ear off with my catapult from a hundred yards,’ she said.
    ‘And I could put a stone up your nostril from the same distance,’ said Sydney.
    The Stepney Borrible laughed, a cold sound in the baking square of the black courtyard. ‘I heard the story from Vulge,’ he said. ‘You must be the one who drowned the Rumble in the soup.’
    ‘That’s right,’ said Chalotte, ‘I did.’
    ‘Well it’s hard to believe and you can tell Vulge so when you see him.’
    ‘What’s your name, then?’ asked Twilight.
    ‘Hatrack,’ said the Borrible, ‘what’s your’n?’
    ‘Twilight,’ said Twilight.
    ‘Bleedin’-well suits yer,’ said Hatrack. It was obvious that he did not like Bangladeshis and he said no more. Twilight forced himself to make a compliment.
    ‘Hatrack is a good name,’ he said. ‘I would like to hear the story of it, one day.’ And then he turned and walked out of the estate with Chalotte and Sydney beside him.
     
    They soon found Vulge’s house and, making sure they were unobserved, the three Borribles slipped along an alley to the back of the building. There was no sound and the terrace seemed deserted;
there was no glass in the windows either and not a door standing. The rubbish from the streets had drifted high into the houses and for the most part the ceilings had collapsed as well; debris was ankle deep and everything smelt of decay.
    ‘I’ll go first,’ said Chalotte. Cautiously she led the others up a flight of stairs, stairs which shifted a little under the weight of three people. As she went Chalotte whistled, hoping that Vulge, if he was there, would recognize the sound as the signal they had used on the Great Rumble Hunt.
    She stopped. Somewhere above them a door opened and a voice said, ‘Clear off, you’re in the wrong house.’
    Chalotte glanced upwards but could see no one.
    ‘I’ve come to see Vulge,’ she said, ‘it’s Chalotte and Sydney.’
    ‘Well I’ll be clipped,’ said Vulge, as he moved into view on the landing above. ‘Get on up here and let’s have a look at yer.’
    The two girls ran up the remaining stairs and threw their arms round Vulge’s shoulders.
    ‘Gerrorf,’ he