he’d made a joke. ‘Not famous in Dagenham!’ he repeated. ‘Bless my soul. You two are a right pair of jokers, ain’tcha?’
Peter and Daisy looked at each other blankly. Peter hadn’t meant to say anything funny and didn’t think that he
had
, but he decided it would be best not to mention it. He looked out at the countryside into which they were heading, a bleak stretch of flat moorland, through which the dirt road cut straight as a knife. The sun was already quite low on the horizon and turning a dull shade of orange. There wasn’t a single tree or hill in sight, with the result that you could see for miles over the scrubby-looking grass. Occasionally, a channel of sluggish grey water meandered through the land and, here and there, they passed the occasional lake, but there was not much else of note. Peter wondered why none of the other children seemed to be heading in this direction. He suddenly got the strangest feeling: it felt as though he and the other occupants of the cart were the last people left in the world. Then he became aware of the silence. Apart from the clattering of the wheels on the road, the clunking of Bessie’s hooves, and the creaking of her leather harness, there was not another sound to be heard. They rode along in this way for some time. Then:
‘Here comes trouble,’ announced Adam quietly. Peter saw over Adam’s shoulder that a figure was approaching from up ahead, too distant as yet to make out much detail.
Mrs Beesley turned in her seat and pointed to a folded blanket that lay in the bottom of the cart. ‘We’re going to play a little trick on someone,’ she announced. ‘Get down on the floor, pull that blanket over yourselves, and both of you keep nice and quiet.’
Peter looked at her. ‘But why—?’
‘Never mind, why,’ snapped Mrs Beesley. ‘Like I said, it’s a trick. Come along now, cover yourselves up and not a sound from either one of you!’
Bemused, Peter did as he was told, even though the blanket had a rather unpleasant animal smell about it. He and Daisy crouched down on the uncomfortable wooden floor. After a while, the cart eased to a halt and Peter heard a man’s voice calling up to the passengers. It sounded hearty and more refined than Adam’s or Mrs Beesley’s.
‘Hello there! Been into Rye, have you?’
‘That’s right,’ said Adam. ‘We had a few provisions to pick up.’
‘Lots of excitement in the town today, I understand. The evacuees.’
‘So I ’eard,’ said Mrs Beesley’s voice. ‘We only called to the general store for a few bits and pieces, didn’t we, Adam?’
‘Aye, that’s right.’
‘I’d have liked to have billeted a child myself, but I’m not really equipped for it. I can’t cook anything more than a boiled egg and, as I’m sure you know, my housekeeper walked out on me after all that unpleasantness about the book.’
‘Oh, you haven’t found a replacement yet?’ asked Mrs Beesley.
‘Afraid not. Tried everywhere. I don’t suppose you know anyone?’
‘Nobody. Not round ’ere.’
‘Shame really, would have been nice to have a bit of company around the place. I should have thought Alfred could have taken someone though? He’s plenty of room. And it would have been a nice companion for—’
‘You’ll ’ave to excuse us, Professor,’ interrupted Mrs Beesley. ‘Only, it’s getting late and we wants to be back by nightfall.’
‘Oh, you’ve a little while yet, surely? I just wanted to ask you if—’
But then Peter heard the crack of the whip, cutting the voice off in mid-sentence. The cart moved on again.
‘See you later then!’ called the man’s voice from somewhere behind them. He sounded disappointed.
After a little while, Mrs Beesley announced that it was all right to come out from under the blanket.
‘What was that all about?’ asked Peter, brushing his hair out of his eyes. ‘And why did you say you hadn’t seen us?’
‘I told you. We was playing a trick. That
Peter and Daisy looked at each other blankly. Peter hadn’t meant to say anything funny and didn’t think that he
had
, but he decided it would be best not to mention it. He looked out at the countryside into which they were heading, a bleak stretch of flat moorland, through which the dirt road cut straight as a knife. The sun was already quite low on the horizon and turning a dull shade of orange. There wasn’t a single tree or hill in sight, with the result that you could see for miles over the scrubby-looking grass. Occasionally, a channel of sluggish grey water meandered through the land and, here and there, they passed the occasional lake, but there was not much else of note. Peter wondered why none of the other children seemed to be heading in this direction. He suddenly got the strangest feeling: it felt as though he and the other occupants of the cart were the last people left in the world. Then he became aware of the silence. Apart from the clattering of the wheels on the road, the clunking of Bessie’s hooves, and the creaking of her leather harness, there was not another sound to be heard. They rode along in this way for some time. Then:
‘Here comes trouble,’ announced Adam quietly. Peter saw over Adam’s shoulder that a figure was approaching from up ahead, too distant as yet to make out much detail.
Mrs Beesley turned in her seat and pointed to a folded blanket that lay in the bottom of the cart. ‘We’re going to play a little trick on someone,’ she announced. ‘Get down on the floor, pull that blanket over yourselves, and both of you keep nice and quiet.’
Peter looked at her. ‘But why—?’
‘Never mind, why,’ snapped Mrs Beesley. ‘Like I said, it’s a trick. Come along now, cover yourselves up and not a sound from either one of you!’
Bemused, Peter did as he was told, even though the blanket had a rather unpleasant animal smell about it. He and Daisy crouched down on the uncomfortable wooden floor. After a while, the cart eased to a halt and Peter heard a man’s voice calling up to the passengers. It sounded hearty and more refined than Adam’s or Mrs Beesley’s.
‘Hello there! Been into Rye, have you?’
‘That’s right,’ said Adam. ‘We had a few provisions to pick up.’
‘Lots of excitement in the town today, I understand. The evacuees.’
‘So I ’eard,’ said Mrs Beesley’s voice. ‘We only called to the general store for a few bits and pieces, didn’t we, Adam?’
‘Aye, that’s right.’
‘I’d have liked to have billeted a child myself, but I’m not really equipped for it. I can’t cook anything more than a boiled egg and, as I’m sure you know, my housekeeper walked out on me after all that unpleasantness about the book.’
‘Oh, you haven’t found a replacement yet?’ asked Mrs Beesley.
‘Afraid not. Tried everywhere. I don’t suppose you know anyone?’
‘Nobody. Not round ’ere.’
‘Shame really, would have been nice to have a bit of company around the place. I should have thought Alfred could have taken someone though? He’s plenty of room. And it would have been a nice companion for—’
‘You’ll ’ave to excuse us, Professor,’ interrupted Mrs Beesley. ‘Only, it’s getting late and we wants to be back by nightfall.’
‘Oh, you’ve a little while yet, surely? I just wanted to ask you if—’
But then Peter heard the crack of the whip, cutting the voice off in mid-sentence. The cart moved on again.
‘See you later then!’ called the man’s voice from somewhere behind them. He sounded disappointed.
After a little while, Mrs Beesley announced that it was all right to come out from under the blanket.
‘What was that all about?’ asked Peter, brushing his hair out of his eyes. ‘And why did you say you hadn’t seen us?’
‘I told you. We was playing a trick. That
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