Читать книгу Chasing the Arrow - Charles Reid - Страница 9

Robbie was surprised when he didn’t oversleep that Saturday morning. He even startled his mother by appearing in the kitchen fully dressed before she finished making breakfast. Emily turned from the stove and smiled at her son. “You woke up early for a change.”

“I suppose I’m getting used to it.” Robbie’s mother, of course, had no idea he was referring to his late-night listening sessions.

But Emily wasn’t the only one astonished by Robbie’s sudden embrace of early rising. When Billy arrived that morning as usual at Robbie’s house, his jaw dropped and he nearly fell off his bike when he saw his friend already outside, waiting. “Who kicked you out of bed?”

“No one. I guess I just need less sleep.”

“Anything new on the plane?”

“You bet. But let’s ride and I’ll tell you when we get to the park.”

When they arrived at High Park, Robbie led the way into some trees and propped his bike against a big maple. Billy slid onto the crossbar of his bike, leaned forward on the handlebars, and asked, “Now what’s the latest?”

“The Americans are going to build a long-range supersonic jet fighter of their own.”

“So what?”

“Everyone’s puzzled because the Americans were saying a while ago that ballistic missiles made fighters obsolete. So the people at our house last night were trying to figure out what the Americans are up to. My mom says the missile story was obviously a lot of baloney.”

“Boy, what a neat mom you have! She sure is clever.”

Robbie beamed with pride.

“Hey,” Billy said, “I keep forgetting to ask you something. Do you play softball?”

“Sure. Why? Do you play for a team?”

“Just a local one. It’s run by a bloke named Bud. He owns an Esso gas station, and the team’s called the Esso Canucks.” Billy grinned. “Actually I’m not that good. I never even heard of baseball until I came to Canada. But I love playing it. We’re finished this season, of course, but I can get you in for next year if you like.”

“That would be great, Billy. Count me in.”

When Robbie arrived home, he was alarmed to discover one of the men from the Friday meetings sitting at the kitchen table with his mother. They were both drinking tea and laughing about something. As he came through the back door, his mother turned and smiled. “Oh, Robbie, this is Mr. Wilkie. He works with me at Avro.”

Robbie almost blurted “I know” but caught himself in time and stepped forward. “How are you, sir?”

“Fine, Robbie. But please call me Joe.”

“Joe has something he’d like to ask you, Robbie.”

“Me?” Robbie said, surprise obvious in his voice.

Joe cleared his throat. “Actually, I was wondering if you’d like to go to Maple Leaf Gardens with me tonight. I’ve got a couple of tickets for the game.”

“You mean see the Leafs and the Canadiens...and the Rocket?” Robbie almost shouted.

Joe furrowed his brow. “The Rocket?”

Emily smiled again. “Rocket Richard, Joe, the most famous player in all of hockey. He plays for the Montreal Canadiens.”

“Hmm, I think I’d better put a condition on this invitation.”

Robbie’s face clouded with apprehension, but Joe grinned quickly and slapped him on the shoulder. “Stop worrying. It’s not that serious. My condition is that you teach me all about this game of hockey because, obviously, I haven’t a clue. I only know English football and cricket.”

“No problem, sir...Joe. I can tell you everything there is about hockey.”

“Then it’s settled.”

Emily got to her feet. “Okay, you two, if you’re all done, how about some lunch?”

Throughout the meal Robbie glanced surreptitiously at both his mother and Joe. It was the first time ever that a man, apart from his grandfather, had sat at their table, and Robbie wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Although he already knew he liked Joe Wilkie, he was still a bit disturbed by this turn of events.

By the time lunch was over, however, Robbie’s unease had completely vanished, and he was warming up to Joe more and more. “Mom, can I go and tell Billy about going to the hockey game? He’s going to flip when he hears.”

“Of course,” Emily said.

“Joe, wait’ll you see the Rocket and Doug Harvey and Jean Béliveau and Boom Boom Geoffrion and Jacques Plante and—”

“What about the Maple Leafs?” Joe asked. “Don’t they have star players, too? And shouldn’t you be cheering for them since you live in Toronto now?”

Robbie stared at Joe in disbelief. “Boy, do I have a lot to teach you. Everybody knows the Canadiens are the greatest team that ever played.”

That first hockey game with Joe proved to be the beginning of a wonderful winter for Robbie, marred only slightly by the “duty” Christmas visit to his grandparents in Montreal. But even that was tempered by the superb new pair of ice skates presented to him by Joe just before the Englishman returned home to spend Christmas with his family.

Armed with his new skates, Robbie spent most of his time in Montreal at the local rink renewing old friendships. But he was surprised at how much he missed Joe and their regular trips to the Gardens to see the Leafs in action. Robbie found himself wishing away the days until his return to Toronto so that he and Joe could pick up where they had left off.

The rest of the winter went by in a flash, and before Robbie knew it, the cherry and apple blossoms were blooming in the trees, the Canadiens were well on their way to another Stanley Cup, and he was trying on his Esso Canucks little-league uniform.

Robbie felt a real surge of pride as he studied himself in his bedroom mirror. He looked pretty good in his uniform and decided to keep it on to show his mother when she came home.

His mother was unusually late that night, and Robbie was starting to wonder if something had happened when a peep through the window for about the twentieth time revealed a gleaming red-and-white Thunderbird with huge tail fins pulling into the driveway.

Robbie gasped at the sheer beauty of the car and wondered whose it was. His surprise turned to sheer puzzlement when his mother got out of the vehicle. He ran outside and down the front steps, all thought of his new baseball uniform forgotten in his eagerness to discover who owned this amazing car. But his mother noticed his uniform immediately. “My, don’t we look smart. Let’s have a good look at you.”

Robbie, though, was only interested in the Thunderbird. “Mom, whose car is this? I wish we had one like it.”

“Well...actually we do, Robbie. I just bought it.”

“This is our car?”

“Yes, it is. Now let’s go in and let poor Mrs. Brady go home.”

“But, Mom, can’t we go for a little ride first, just to show Billy? Please, Mom?”

“Later, Robbie. Right now Mrs. Brady has to get home to her family.”

Mrs. Brady had appeared in the driveway and had heard Robbie’s plea. “Oh, it’s all right, Miss Emily. I can hang on a few more minutes. Give the lad a ride.”

“See, it’s okay, Mom. Let’s go.”

Emily laughed. “Come on then,” she said, and they both got into the car.

Billy was in his front yard as they drove by slowly. “Hey, Billy, what d’you think of our new car?” Robbie called out.

Billy looked up in amazement when he saw the Thunderbird. “What a beauty!” he yelled back.

Although Robbie had kept up his nocturnal visits to the landing once a month throughout the winter, he had heard little that was interesting about the plane and generally crept back into his room after an hour or so. But at the first meeting after his mother bought the Thunderbird, things really got exciting again.

Joe Wilkie started off the discussion. “I don’t think I’ve seen Crawford Gordon so angry. I thought he was going to burst a blood vessel after the air force insisted on having this new Astra electronics system from RCA Victor.”

Jack Fowler took a sip from his coffee mug. “It’s the cost factor that’s really bothering Crawford. We’ve got enough trouble with the government on cost overruns as it is, and Crawford’s convinced this new system will send the bureaucrats into another panic.”

“Well, they approved it, didn’t they, Jack?” Robbie’s mother said.

“That won’t help us if it inflates the budget. They’ll find a way to blame us. Count on it.”

“I agree,” Emily said. “Even though we’ve stated clearly that we’re convinced the Hughes system with the Falcon missiles will do the job for a fraction of the price, it won’t make any difference if the Astra’s development costs spiral out of control. The politicians will hold us accountable, anyway.”

Joe nodded as he helped himself to some potato chips. “Yes, and don’t forget that the Sparrow 2 missile that goes with the Astra package has to be built, as well, and there’s no way anyone can know how expensive that will be, especially since the Yanks are building it and we don’t have much control over it.”

“As far as I can see, all we can do is what Crawford keeps telling us—make sure the production of the CF-105 moves as fast as humanly possible and let the chips fall where they may,” Fowler said, smiling slightly as Joe dropped some potato chips on the floor.

A little numb with fatigue, Robbie returned to his room and climbed quietly into bed, his mind trying hard to grasp the complexities involved in the building of the CF-105. As his brain spun with visions of missiles and electronic components, he did know one thing: the worry in the voices of his mother and her friends spelled trouble.

That Saturday, when Billy invited Robbie over to his house to listen to some new 45 records he had bought, Robbie jumped at the chance. Billy had the latest Elvis Presley, Bill Haley and the Comets, and Lonnie Donegan discs, and a much better record player. Now the two were stretched out on Billy’s bed, savouring the last few rollicking words of Donegan’s “Rock Island Line”: “Well, if you ride it you gotta ride it like you find it. Get your ticket at the station for the Rock Island Line.”

Billy had introduced Robbie to Donegan’s skiffle music, and the British musician had fast become one of Robbie’s favourites. Skiffle was a blend of blues and folk music and could be played on just about anything—washboards, jugs, kazoos, and harmonicas as well as banjoes and guitars.

When Billy noticed Robbie nodding off, he said, “Boy, you must have stayed up all night listening to your mom and her mates talk about the CF-105. No one ever falls asleep when Lonnie’s singing. Did you hear anything new?”

“Nothing good. I didn’t really understand it all, but it looks like the air force wants to use a different system to fire the missiles on the CF-105. It’s some sort of electronic machine.”

“What’s so bad about that?”

“My mom and her friends think this new system will be a lot more expensive than the one they were going to use. And like I’ve told you before, the government’s always bugging my mom and everybody else at Avro about spending too much money.”

Billy blew a big pink bubble with his chewing gum, watched it pop, then asked, “Why don’t they just say no then?”

“That’s the funny part. They seem worried the government might get upset about the cost, yet they also said it’s the government that’s insisting they use it.”

Billy blew another bubble. “My dad says you can never trust politicians.”

“I think my mom would agree. But, hey, let’s forget about all that for now and listen to that new Elvis song you got.”

Billy reached over and picked up another 45. “‘Heartbreak Hotel’?”

“That’s it.”

Billy got off the bed and went over to the record player. He took off the disc they’d been playing, put on the new one, and carefully positioned the needle into the first groove. “By the way, how’s your new car? Been out in it again?”

“Yeah, once. It’s terrific. It’s got all these gadgets—and what an engine! I think my mom’s a bit afraid to put her foot down too hard yet, ’cause it sure can go.”

“Sounds super. Maybe you can wangle me a ride next time.”

“My mom was saying something about taking the car out for a spin in the countryside around Toronto. I’ll ask her if you can come, too.”

“Smashing! Just let me know when and where, Robbie, and I’ll be there.”