Читать книгу Dogtective William and the Poachers - Elizabeth Wasserman - Страница 7

We flew to Johannesburg in a Boeing 737. William had to go in the freight compartment, locked in a wire cage. He sulked, mentioning better arrangements when we had stowed away on a previous trip, but I explained this was the usual way for dogs to travel by air. And my dad’s company was paying for everything, even William’s plane ticket!

This should have been my second warning that something was afoot. Normally, employers would not dream of covering the cost of sending kids and their pets off on a nice holiday in the bush. But I was so excited about our trip that I didn’t think twice about their sudden generosity.

Aunt Ada was waiting for us in the arrivals hall of Lanseria Airport, outside Johannesburg. I recognised her at once.

“Alex, dear boy!” She grabbed me in her strong arms, lifted me high above her head to get a better look at me, and spun me around a few times before putting me down. Fortunately I did not know anyone north of the Orange River, therefore it would have been a waste of time to die of shame.

My Aunt Ada was obviously a formidable wo­man. She stood tall in a pair of enormous hiking boots, and her long, red, woollen socks were pulled up high over her muscular calves. She wore a khaki shirt with many pockets, tucked into baggy cargo shorts. Her hair was thick and unruly, like mine, but only a few wiry strands escaped from her broad-rimmed hat. Her eyes blazed with energy and she carried the scent of dry grass and adventure.

I couldn’t help liking her.

“And this?” she asked when she spotted my companion. “What on earth do we have here?”

I had collected William from the “oversized baggage” counter and had released him from his cage. He was meekly sitting on the end of his leash, still reeling from the experience of having had to travel like an ordinary domestic animal. He would mutter about it for some time to come, reminding me how tough it could be not to be recognised as exceptional by the general public.

“This is my dog, William,” I introduced him with some pride.

“A dog?” she asked. “You’re kidding me!” She bent down to get a better look. She gingerly lifted one of his large, floppy ears with a finger. “Looks more like a riverine rabbit to me. But something’s wrong with his ears!” Then she poked his ribcage with a finger. “And he is grossly overweight!” she announced.

That was going too far. “Look who’s talking!” William growled.

He was right, of course. Aunt Ada was no ballerina. She narrowed her eyes without further comment. I am not used to William talking in front of grown-ups, but clearly this was going to be different. The relationship between him and my aunt had got off to a bad start, but at least she didn’t seem too surprised by his unusual gift.

My Aunt Ada was an unusual woman herself.

I expected us to head off to the parking lot, but instead she strode in another direction. William and I had to run to keep up. Aunt Ada did nothing slowly.

We reached a quiet corner of the airport building and the three of us had to check through a small security gate. Outside, a golf cart with a driver was waiting. We zoomed off across the runway to the opposite end of the airport. I enjoyed the scenery: aeroplanes were taxiing and landing all around us. It was so noisy that I did not get a chance to ask any questions.

We came to a halt in an area where smaller planes were parked. Aunt Ada hastily signed a form on a clipboard, and the driver buzzed off again in his golf cart. William and I were left standing next to our suitcase while Aunt Ada strode off to a small yellow plane parked in the corner.

William looked uncomfortable. “That thing is nothing but a wheelbarrow with wings!” he complained. He had a point: it was certainly flimsy compared to the sturdy Boeing in which we had arrived.

“Jump on board!” my aunt invited us, holding the door on the right side open. “No, wait! First give the propeller a good turn. This tub can be tricky to start.” My face must have mirrored my doubts. “Get in, city boy!” she laughed. “I’m only pulling your leg!”

Aunt Ada slid behind the controls and the seat groaned beneath her weight. I strapped myself in next to her. William was still looking very worried as he scampered onto the back seat. The inside of the plane was stuffy and smelt of the wild. I noticed a bundle of what looked like animal skins lying on the back seat next to William.

Could this bucket really fly?

The engine started up and noise filled the small cabin. My aunt pointed to an extra pair of earphones lying at my feet. I pulled them over my ears and I heard her communicating with the control tower. At least it sounded as if she knew what she was doing. The air traffic controller called her “Mrs Hitchcock”.

“Cross over to runway zero six right and zero six left, right on Alpha and wait in line. Mrs H, your flight plan has been filed and you can prepare to take off. Call the tower on frequency 1226 when you are ready.”

We taxied across the parking area and waited our turn in a short line of planes at the upper end of the runway. I gazed through the small, dusty window of our tiny yellow aeroplane. The airport was busy and the sky seemed to be teeming with other aircraft. Sweat started to trickle down my back.

“Lanseria Ground, this is Zulu Sierra – SRS, we are ready to roll!”

I shut my eyes tight and hoped that we would make it to the farm.

But then, suddenly, the dusty city mess of Gau­t­eng fell away beneath our feet. The little yellow plane had stopped most of its noisy rumblings, and it appeared to be very much at home gliding among the clouds.

We gently floated on a warm air current. Aunt Ada laughed with pleasure. She was managing the controls of the plane with a touch as light as if icing a cake. I was beginning to relax. I peered to the back to see how William was doing.

It looked as if he had sat down on a snake! Every single hair on his body was erect. His eyes bulged from their sockets.

“Chill, William!” I tried to comfort him. “Look out of the window! The clouds look just like giant popcorn floating above the earth.”

William loves popcorn, but he remained tense.

“It takes too long to drive to the farm by car,” my aunt explained. “And on top of that, I am scared of traffic.”

Scared of traffic? I found it difficult to believe that that woman could be scared of anything. And surely a bit of traffic jam was less dangerous than traipsing among the clouds, crossing the paths of huge jets that flew at how many kilometres an hour?

“There are some sandwiches in a basket at the back, and a flask of coffee,” Aunt Ada said. “You must be hungry.”

Of course I was hungry. Or was I? The plane bumped as we were hit by a side wind and my stomach lurched.

“Baxter!” Aunt Ada called to the back. “Wake up and say hello to our guests!”

The bundle of skins stirred. A black nose appeared and two beady eyes blinked at me. The “skins” uncurled further and took on the form of a sturdy body, four short, strong legs and a bushy tail. A broad silver stripe ran over his back.

That wasn’t a dog.

Baxter was a real African honey badger.