Missing Person Read Online Free PDF Page A

who’s a pretty boy, then.’
    ‘Gertcher,’ said Cecil.
    ‘Oh, stuck-up, are we?’ said Sally.
    ‘I think ’e’s got royal blood,’ said Cassie, ‘I think he’d say a lot to the King and Queen if me and Freddy took ’im to Buckingham Palace.’
    ‘Can’t he say some of it ’ere?’ asked Mavis.
    ‘He better ’ad,’ said Freddy, ‘because I’m not takin’ him to Buckingham Palace, and that’s a fact.’
    ‘We can take ’im on the bus,’ said Cassie. ‘Sally, d’you know if the King and Queen’s in today?’
    ‘Well, no, I don’t,’ said Sally, ‘they don’t always let me know about what they’re doin’.’
    Mavis giggled.
    ‘Cassie, I ain’t goin’ on any bus with that parrot,’ said Freddy.
    ‘I wonder if that lady that’s moved into the ’aunted house takes ’er parrot on the bus or for a walk?’ mused Cassie.
    ‘It might surprise you,’ said Freddy, ‘but lots of people don’t take their parrots for a walk or a bus ride. And I’ve told yer, that house ain’t ’aunted, it’s only what the kids say.’
    ‘Still, I wouldn’t live in it meself,’ said Mavis. ‘What’s yer parrot doin’ now, Cassie?’
    ‘Just a shuffle,’ said Freddy.
    ‘Well, that won’t get ’im very far,’ said Sally. ‘Come on, Mavis, let’s go now.’
    ‘Where you goin’?’ asked Cassie, who never liked to be in an uninformed state.
    ‘Round to Mavis’s,’ said Sally.
    ‘What’s at Mavis’s?’ asked Cassie.
    ‘Mavis’s brother,’ grinned Freddy.
    ‘You said it, I didn’t.’ Sally smiled and off she went with Mavis.
    ‘Freddy, where’s yer mum and dad?’ asked Cassie.
    ‘In the parlour, ’aving a quiet life,’ said Freddy.
    ‘All right, I don’t mind,’ said Cassie graciously. ‘You and me can stay in the kitchen and teach Cecil to talk a bit more, then you can come ’ome and ’ave tea with us.’
    ‘Cassie, I ain’t sittin’ in here with the parrot,’ said Freddy.
    ‘Yes, you are, you’re a nice boy really,’ said Cassie. ‘Come on, you can sit next to me and we’ll teach Cecil together. Let’s first try and make ’im say – Freddy? Oh, where’s that blessed boy gone?’
    The blessed boy was sneaking out through the front door. Hearing him, Cassie gave a little yell and went after him. She caught him as he reached Browning Street. Freddy, however, was adamant that he wasn’t going to talk to a daft parrot all afternoon. But five minutes later, of course, he was sitting with her at the kitchen table, and Cecil was giving both of them the once-over out of a beady eye. Freddy, not a bad loser, grinned at the bird.
    ‘Watcher, mate,’ said Cecil.
    Cassie gave a girlish yelp of delight, then frowned a little. Well, it sounded as if Lord Cecil was more of a cockney parrot than a royal one.
    Crack! Mrs Lizzy Somers, thirty-one years old, the wife of Ned Somers and the mother of two girls and two boys, hit a blinder with the willow cricket bat off the bowling of her eldest brother, Boots. The red leather ball soared over his head and landed in the vegetable bed far up the garden and well beyond the long lawn.
    ‘What happened?’ asked Boots.
    ‘Yes, who did that?’ asked Rosie.
    ‘Me,’ said Lizzy. Well, she’d played street cricket in Walworth when a schoolgirl, proving a natural terror with a bat, even if she’d never been able to bowl for toffee.
    ‘A six, Mum, you ’it a six!’ yelled her eldest son, nine-year-old Bobby.
    ‘ Sacre bleu ,’ said Boots, showing off his French.
    ‘Don’t mention it,’ said Lizzy. She wasn’t dressed for cricket, she was dressed in fine printed cotton, colourful and summery, but once she had a cricket bat in her hands she gaily reverted to tomboyish thumping, whacking and smiting. She and Ned and their family had been invited to tea at her mother and stepfather’s large house in Red Post Hill, off the south end of Denmark Hill, and Boots had said come early for some garden cricket. Lizzy, Ned,