Читать книгу The Taylor TurboChaser - David Baddiel - Страница 13

“What’s going on?” said Suzi.

“What?”

They had once again driven into Lodlil, and once again Suzi had parked with difficulty, opened up the back doors of the van and pressed the button to fold down the ramp.

But then she held up a hand to stop Amy wheeling her chair down it.

“What’s going on?” she said again.

“Huh?” said Amy.

“Don’t play the innocent with me, Ames. Where’s your new chair?”

Amy looked down as if surprised, as if somehow she’d not noticed that she’d come all the way to the supermarket in her old wheelchair. Which, to be fair, her mother hadn’t. But then again, Suzi was rushed and tired, and outside their house she had been on the phone arguing with Amy’s dad.

“Oh, come on, Amy. Where is it?”

“I’m … just getting used to it.”

“Pardon?”

“Yes. Um. Turns out that the new wheelchair is a bit … fast for me. When you push the lever forward, it moves forward really quick. So … I thought I’d leave it in my room for the minute. Until I’ve got used to it.”

Suzi narrowed her eyes at her daughter. “We spent ages on the internet checking out motorised wheelchairs. Specifically: fastest motorised wheelchairs. At your request.”

“I know but—”

“And your dad – who I’ve just been on the phone to – paid for most of it. And as Mr ‘I’m Not Made of Money’, he—”

“Is he still calling himself that?” said Amy.

“Yes, you know how he likes to … make himself very clear.”

“Wow,” said Jack. “You actually spoke to him? Is it Christmas?”

“No, Jack,” said Suzi wearily. “It’s not Christmas.”

“Oh no, that’s right. Because if it was Christmas, he’d have sent us a depressing card. The one with Santa Claus in an old car, instead of a sleigh. The same one he’s sent us for the last three years.”

Jack was speaking from the passenger seat, without looking up from his phone, or taking off his headphones.

“I love that card!” said Amy, wheeling herself down the ramp. “Shut up, Jack.”

“Well, good,” said Suzi. “But meanwhile, your new chair wasn’t cheap. And if he knows you’re not using it – well – he won’t be happy.”

“Really?”

“You know your dad, Amy. He’s not … an easy man.”

“Oh, I dunno,” said Jack. “He’s easier than, say, the Hulk. Just.”

“OK,” said Amy, who hated it when the family conversation began to get a bit anti-Dad, which it did quite a lot. “I’ll start using it soon, Mum, don’t worry!”

“She’s paid someone to pimp her ride, I reckon,” said Jack, finally stretching his long legs out of the car. He was at that teenage-boy age where he still looked young, but had grown very tall, a bit like a stretched-out toddler.

“Is that a joke? What does it even mean?” said Suzi.

“It means to make a car all flash and exciting with add-ons and lights and stereo systems and stuff,” said Amy. “And of course it’s a joke. Everything he says is a joke.”

“Everything he says is a joke,” Jack repeated.

“Well, it is!” said Amy. “Particularly in this case. I mean, it’s obvious – one ride you could never pimp is a wheelchair!”

And she wheeled off in her old chair as fast as she could go.