Long Lankin Read Online Free PDF Page B

him, a bit smaller.
    “Spent a night in the haunted house, then?” the big boy said.
    The smaller boy lifted up his arms, wobbled his fingers, and went “Wooooo!” like a ghost and nearly fell off the fence.
    Their voices sounded the same, and I guessed they were brothers.
    “I’m Roger, and this is Pete,” said the older one.
    “I’m Cora, and she’s Mimi.” I jerked my thumb behind me at her.
    “Mimi! Ooh-la-la!” said Pete, jumping down and wiggling his hips from side to side. I suppose he thought that’s what French people did all day — wiggled their hips and said “Ooh-la-la.”
    “It’s not Mimi like that,” I said. “It’s a nickname. She’s Elizabeth really.”
    As we walked along, Roger said he’d got three brothers — Dennis, Terry, Pete of course — and a sister, Baby Pamela.
    “Baby Pamela’s all right for a name,” said Roger, “but I reckon if you’ve waited that long for a girl, you should call her something a bit more interesting, like Aspidistria or something.”
    We were at the end of the Chase.
    “Fancy coming down the church?” Roger asked. “Pete and me are always playing around there.”
    “Auntie Ida said we wasn’t supposed to go,” I said. “Went on and on, she did. Made me promise, and I did the special sign.”
    “Mum’s always saying we’re not to either, but we just don’t say,” said Roger. “There’s loads to do down there. Won’t take long to show you.”
    “We’re supposed to go and post this letter,” I said.
    “You can post it after,” said Roger.
    “Better not. I promised,” I said.
    “Doesn’t matter, then,” said Roger.
    “There’s graves so old they’re half sticking up out of the ground,” said Pete. “We dig around them sometimes.”
    “I’ve got to post this,” I said. “It’s for Dad to come and take us home.”
    “But you’ve only just got here,” said Roger.
    “I know.”
    “Where’s your mum, then? Can’t she come and get you?”
    “She —” I began, not sure how I was going to finish. “She ain’t at home at the moment.”
    “When’s she coming back, then?”
    “Um . . . sometime — not quite sure right now.”
    “See you, then,” said Roger. “Pete and me are going down.”
    “Ta ta, then.”
    Mimi and me stood and watched while they went towards the church. I looked at the envelope in my hand:
H. R. Drumm, Esq
. I imagined Dad would get the letter the next morning, which was Wednesday, and might come in the afternoon, or Thursday at the latest, so if we were going home nearly straight away, maybe it wouldn’t matter if we just popped down and had a little look at the church; then we could go up to the post office afterwards.
    “Hang on!” I shouted, shoving the letter in my pocket. “Wait! We’ll come an’ all!”
    Roger and Pete looked back, then stopped to wait for us.
    “Don’t want to,” Mimi said.
    “You’ll do what I blimmin’ well say!”
    “Auntie said not to.”
    “Don’t flippin’ well tell her, then.”
    “Don’t like it.”
    “Stay here on your own, then!”
    Mimi’s lower lip wobbled. She rubbed Sid’s worn patch, then put her small soft hand in mine.
    We walked down the lane until we came to a large gate standing all by itself on the left-hand side of the road. It had a tiled roof, held up by a wooden arch supported by stone pillars. Like the roof of Guerdon Hall, it was sunken in and soft with green moss. The wooden gates in the middle looked half-rotten. They’d been lashed together with bunches of old ropes and rusty chains. The pillars were messy with brambles and wild rosebushes, and the stinging nettles were nearly as high as our shoulders.
    “This is a funny old gate,” I said, standing in front. “Why’s it all tied up, then?”
    “I don’t know,” said Roger. “It’s always been like that. You ever made itching powder out of the middle of rose hips?”
    “Nah, does it work?”
    “Yeah, brilliant. Have you tried blackberries?”
    “Won’t