Shrapnel Read Online Free PDF

me through the steam. ‘What’s the house like?’
    â€˜Oh, it’s just the windows. And some tiles. Blast.’
    â€˜Could be worse then. Council’ll fix that in no time.’
    I nodded. ‘I’ve just come from there. Tried to get in, but some workman chased me off. Called me a looter.’
    Raymond laughed. ‘Some looter. What
did
you want, kiddo?’
    I glanced around. The place was filling up. ‘You know,’ I hissed, ‘the whatsit, up the chimney.’
    He shook his head. ‘You let
me
worry about that Gordon, all right? Don’t go back to the house, it might collapse on you.’
    â€˜All right. Have you got any work for me yet, Raymond?’
    â€˜Not yet. Patience is part of the job, we’ll be in touch.’
    â€˜At Gran’s, remember.’
    He smiled, nodded. ‘Gran’s it is.’
    â€˜I’ve got to go,’ I said, ‘Gran serves lunch at twelve.’
    He looked at his watch and chuckled. ‘Never make it, kiddo, unless you’ve got the Spitfire parked outside.’
    I was ten minutes late. I offered to make up the time by not washing my hands, but Mum was having none of it. In fact she made me wash my neck as well.
    How many agents does
that
happen to?

FOURTEEN
Sweetheart
    â€˜ HOW WOULD YOU like a bicycle, sweetheart?’
Sweetheart
, for goodness’ sake: Gran hasn’t noticed I’m not four any more.
    I looked at her across the table. ‘Wh-what d’you mean, Gran?’ I’d been nattering for a bike for at least five years.
    Mum broke in. ‘I’ve investigated buses, Gordon, and it’s hopeless. Two changes between here and Foundry Street. You’d have to set off at about half-past six every morning. Your gran thinks she can get a bicycle for you. Not a new one, but it’ll get you to and from school.’
    â€˜Wizard!’ I cried. ‘Quite a few chaps bike to school. Girls too, of course.’ I looked at Gran. ‘Where’s the bike now, Gran? Whose is it?’
    She smiled faintly. ‘Well, Gordon, that’s the unfortunate part. My neighbours up the road, Mr and Mrs Myers, had a son called Michael. Lovely boy. He joined the Navy, and was drowned last year when his ship was torpedoed. They’ve put a card in the Post Office window, offering his bicycle for sale. Breaks their hearts to see it in the shed, I suppose, gathering cobwebs.’
    After lunch, Gran popped along to see Mrs Myers. She came back wheeling a Raleigh so smart you wouldn’t know it was second-hand. I was knocked out. ‘It looks brand new, Gran,’ I gasped.
    She nodded, handing the machine to me. ‘Kept all his things nice, Michael Myers.’ She looked me in the eye. ‘His mum and dad’ll see you riding by. They’re bound to wish it was Michael in the saddle, but it might be a bit less sad for them if they notice you’re caring for his bicycle as he would have done. Will you try to remember that, sweetheart?’
    I couldn’t speak for the aching lump in my throat. I nodded, blinked watery eyes and wheeled the hero’s bike to the shed.

FIFTEEN
Creepy Little Swot
    I FOUND MYSELF the centre of attention in the schoolyard Thursday morning. Two reasons, both beginning with b: bombed out, and bike.
    â€˜Whee!’ shrilled Dicky Deadman as I swept through the gateway. ‘What’s this, Price – Spitfire practice?’ His chums laughed, and the four of them followed me to the bike sheds. I slotted the machine into a stall and fished my gas mask out of the saddlebag. When I turned, the Deadman gang was standing in a semicircle, watching me.
    I think there’d have been trouble if old Hinkley hadn’t picked that moment to appear.
    â€˜C’mon,’ muttered Dicky to his chums. ‘Time to vanish.’ By the time the Head reached me, I was alone.
    â€˜Morning, Price.’
    â€˜Morning, sir.’
    â€˜I