The Red Judge Read Online Free PDF Page B

of wooded valleys, on big roads, little ones, dual carriageways and country lanes. And I don’t think he noticed any of it.
    â€˜Look, I know I’ve made you angry. I know it’s all my fault. But can’t we slow down?’ I pleaded. My father was seriously frightening me by now. I cursed myself for ever going to the hospital, and even more for opening my heart to Cary. Plainly, my father had heard every single word of my confession. What had I been thinking of?
    â€˜Look, you’ve got to listen to me,’ I tried again, afraid of making things worse but knowing I had no choice. ‘I didn’t mean to bring all this on Cary. I’m really sorry. I never in my wildest dreams thought it would come to this. I love my sister. I really do. You’ve got to believe me. I mean it.
Honestly
.’
    My father looked ahead, as if contemptuous of my honesty. He drove even faster than before, and I knew that I shouldn’t have spoken. On the radio, the terrible Christmas programme ended, and the news came on. Its wars and political rows seemed like nothing compared to what I was going through. I stared out of the window, with not a clue where we were. ‘BOY ABDUCTED BY FATHER,’ I imagined the newsreader announcing in the next day’s headlines. ‘TRAGIC FAMILY LOSES BOTH ITS CHILDREN.’
    By now day was turning into night. The road was slippery with ice but still our car screeched round every bend we came to. My stomach turned over, but my father seemed immune to any sense of danger. Ifeared that he would kill us both. Imagined the car rolling over on this empty road, and the headline ‘BOY AND FATHER KILLED IN TRAGIC ROAD ACCIDENT.’ That’s if anybody found us, of course!
    By now the snow was thick on the ground, a shroud of whiteness covering everything. I shook my father’s arm – then wished I hadn’t as the car veered across the road.
    â€˜Slow down!’ I yelled.
    We careered round a bend, and missed a ditch by inches. I threw my hands over my head, and could scarcely believe it when the car righted itself. It didn’t seem to me that my father had anything to do with it. His hands still gripped the steering wheel, but his eyes were fixed so far ahead that I could have sworn he didn’t even see that bend. But at least we came out alive.
    We carried on as fast as ever, the car slipping and sliding on the road like a beast out of control. Great hulking hills loomed over us, but I didn’t recognise them. As far as I was concerned, we could have been anywhere in that long border country that stretches down from Pengwern. There was nothing special about the landscape that we passed. Perhaps it was the snow that made it so anonymous, or perhaps fear made it seem like that. Perhaps, even if I’d driven back over the Welsh Bridge, I wouldn’t have recognised anything.
    But, finally, I did. We pulled off the main road and started down a lane into a village that looked like a Christmas card, complete with glitter for snow. I caught a glimpse of houses with curtains drawn and others with decorated trees in their windows. Wepassed a chapel on one side of us and a shop on the other, a pub, a school, another pub and a row of cottages built into a hillside. Slowly it began to dawn on me that this wasn’t just a Christmas card scene, but somewhere real that I actually knew.
    We started slowing down. Ahead of me I could see an old church tower that I recognised, its stubby little spire standing dark against the snowy night. My father turned down the lane next to it and I saw a river with a bridge that I recognised as well, and a couple of cottages. One of them was almost entirely covered in scaffolding, and no lights shone from its windows. A builder’s sign leant against the front wall. A concrete mixer stood in the garden. A FOR SALE sign was fixed to the gatepost, and I stared at it and understood at last what this long journey had been