Trouble on the Heath Read Online Free PDF Page B

everyone we can get.”
    â€œBut what’s in it for me?” asked Mr Kendrick.
    â€œYou live opposite the proposed development!” exploded Malcolm. “You’re the one most affected by it!”
    â€œLook! Here’s the photographer!” said Patrick.
    A friendly girl in a brown bomber jacket ambled up to the group. She had a fancy SLR camera hanging from her neck.
    â€œHi!” she said.
    â€œHello, I’m Malcolm Thomas. I’m the Chairman of the Residents’ Association,” said Malcolm. “I’m sorry there aren’t more of us.”
    â€œThat’s OK,” replied the girl. “My name’s Martha. I’m from New Zealand.”
    â€œI’ve got an aunt in New Zealand!” exclaimed Midge’s owner. “Her name’s Dancey Willis. I’m Isobel Soper.”
    â€œIsobel! Of course!” Malcolm kicked himself.
    â€œI know Dancey Willis!” smiled Martha from New Zealand.
    â€œYou do!” cried Midge’s owner. “Well isn’t that a coincidence?”
    â€œNot really. We live next door to each other. It would be difficult not to know her.”
    â€œNo, I mean isn’t it a coincidence that you should live next door to my aunt?”
    â€œBut we’ve been neighbours for years so it isn’t really a …”
    â€œPerhaps we should get on with the photograph?” suggested Malcolm, exercising his authority as chairman.
    â€œAre you taking a photograph?” asked Martha from New Zealand.
    â€œWell … er … isn’t that what you’ve come for?” replied Malcolm.
    â€œAbsolutely!” said Martha. “I’m going to take lots of photos. I specialise in vegetarian close-ups.”
    â€œWhat are they?” put in Midge’s owner.
    â€œLet’s just get on with it, shall we?” suggested Malcolm.
    â€œIs this all there are?” said another voice. It belonged to a tall man in a raincoat with greased-down hair. In fact he was the newspaper’s photographer. “Not much of a protest, is it?”
    â€œI’ve got to get home,” said Mr Kendrick.
    â€œPlease! Please! Please stay!” cried Malcolm holding on to Mr Kendrick’s sleeve. Nigel started barking at this. “Shut up! Nigel!”
    â€œI mean, how many are there of you?”
    â€œFive!” said Malcolm. “That’s quite enough.”
    â€œWell it’s not going to get on the front page,” said the photographer.
    â€œI’ve got things to do at home,” complained Mr Kendrick.
    â€œPlease stay!” whimpered Malcolm. “Just one minute!”
    â€œAll right,” said the photographer. “Try to look angry.” He pulled a small Sony digital camera from his pocket.
    â€œIs that all you’re using?” said Malcolm.
    â€œIt’ll do for this,” said the photographer. “There! Done it!”
    â€œWe weren’t posed!” exclaimed Malcolm.
    â€œAnd you’ve got to get the site of the proposed development in the shot!” said Patrick. “It’s behind you.”
    â€œCan Midge be in the shot?” asked Midge’s owner.
    â€œYes of course! The more the merrier. Come on, Nigel!” said Malcolm.
    â€œWave your fists in the air!” said the photographer. “Like the girl in the bomber jacket’s doing.”
    â€œWhat are we protesting about?” asked Martha from New Zealand.
    â€œGot it!” said the photographer, who slipped his camera back into his pocket and wandered off.
    â€œDon’t you want our names?” Malcolm shouted after him.
    That lunchtime, as Malcolm was telling the story of the disastrous protest rally and photo-shoot, the phone rang. Their six-year-old, Freddie, was the first one there. He listened and then put the phone back on the receiver.
    â€œWho was it?” asked Angela.
    â€œDon’t know,” said Freddie.
    â€œWhat did they