Читать книгу Five Go Off in a Caravan - Enid blyton - Страница 3

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‘I do love the beginning of the summer hols,’ said Julian. ‘They always seem to stretch out ahead for ages and ages.’

‘They go so nice and slowly at first,’ said Anne, his little sister. ‘Then they start to gallop.’

The others laughed. They knew exactly what Anne meant. ‘Woof,’ said a deep voice, as if someone else thoroughly agreed too.

‘Timmy thinks you’re right, Anne,’ said George, and patted the big dog lying panting beside them. Dick patted him, too, and Timmy licked them both.

The four children were lying in a sunny garden in the first week of the holidays. Usually they went to their cousin Georgina’s home for holidays, at Kirrin—but this time, for a change, they were all at the home of Julian, Dick and Anne.

Julian was the oldest, a tall, sturdy boy with a strong and pleasant face. Dick and Georgina came next. Georgina looked more like a curly-headed boy than a girl, and she insisted on being called George. Even the teachers at school called her George. Anne was the youngest, though, much to her delight, she was really growing taller now.

‘Daddy said this morning that if we didn’t want to stay here all the hols we could choose what we wanted to do,’ said Anne. ‘I vote for staying here.’

‘We could go off somewhere just for two weeks, perhaps,’ said Dick. ‘For a change.’

‘Shall we go to Kirrin, and stay with George’s mother and father for a bit?’ said Julian, thinking that perhaps George would like this.

‘No,’ said George at once. ‘I went home at half-term, and Mother said Father was just beginning one of his experiments in something or other—and you know what that means. If we go there we’d have to walk about on tiptoe, and talk in whispers, and keep out of his way the whole time.’

‘That’s the worst of having a scientist for a father,’ said Dick, lying down on his back and shutting his eyes. ‘Well, your mother couldn’t cope with us and with your father, too, in the middle of one of his experiments at the same time. Sparks would fly.’

‘I like Uncle Quentin, but I’m afraid of him when he’s in one of his tempers,’ said Anne. ‘He shouts so.’

‘It’s decided that we won’t go to Kirrin, then,’ said Julian, yawning. ‘Not these hols, anyhow. You can always go and see Mother for a week or so, George, when you want to. What shall we do, then? Stay here all the time?’

They were now all lying down on their backs in the sun, their eyes shut. What a hot afternoon! Timmy sat up by George, his pink tongue hanging out, panting loudly.

‘Don’t, Timmy,’ said Anne. ‘You sound as if you have been running for miles, and you make me feel hotter than ever.’

Timmy put a friendly paw on Anne’s middle and she squealed. ‘Oh, Timmy—your paw’s heavy. Take it off.’

‘You know, I think if we were allowed to go off by ourselves somewhere, it would be rather fun,’ said George, biting a blade of grass and squinting up into the deep blue sky. ‘The biggest fun we’ve ever had was when we were alone on Kirrin Island, for instance. Couldn’t we go off somewhere all by ourselves?’

‘But where?’ said Dick. ‘And how? I mean we aren’t old enough to take a car—though I bet I could drive one. It wouldn’t be much fun going on bicycles, because Anne can’t ride as fast as we can.’

‘And somebody always gets a puncture,’ said Julian.

‘It would be jolly good fun to go off on horses,’ said George. ‘Only we haven’t got even one.’

‘Yes, we have—there’s old Dobby down in the field,’ said Dick. ‘He is ours. He used to draw the pony-cart, but we don’t use it any more now he’s turned out to grass.’

‘Well, one horse wouldn’t take four of us, silly,’ said George. ‘Dobby’s no good.’

There was a silence, and everyone thought lazily about holidays. Timmy snapped at a fly, and his teeth came together with a loud click.

‘Wish I could catch flies like that,’ said Dick, flapping away a blue-bottle. ‘Come and catch this one, Timmy, old thing.’

‘What about a walking tour?’ said Julian after a pause. There was a chorus of groans.

‘What! In this weather! You’re mad!’

‘We shouldn’t be allowed to.’

‘All right, all right,’ said Julian. ‘Think of a better idea, then.’

‘I’d like to go somewhere where we could bathe,’ said Anne. ‘In a lake, for instance, if we can’t go to the sea.’

‘Sounds nice,’ said Dick. ‘My goodness, I’m sleepy. Let’s hurry up and settle this matter, or I shall be snoring hard.’

But it wasn’t easy to settle. Nobody wanted to go off to an hotel, or to rooms. Grown-ups would want to go with them and look after them. And nobody wanted to go walking or cycling in the hot August weather.

‘Looks as if we’ll have to stay at home all the hols, then,’ said Julian. ‘Well—I’m going to have a snooze.’

In two minutes they were all asleep on the grass except Timmy. If his family fell asleep like this, Timmy considered himself on guard. The big dog gave his mistress George a soft lick and sat up firmly beside her, his ears cocked, and his eyes bright. He panted hard, but nobody heard him. They were all snoozing deliciously in the sun, getting browner and browner.

The garden sloped up a hillside. From where he sat Timmy could see quite a long way, both up and down the road that ran by the house. It was a wide road, but not a very busy one, for it was a country district.

Timmy heard a dog barking in the distance, and his ears twitched in that direction. He heard people walking down the road and his ears twitched again. He missed nothing, not even the robin that flew down to get a caterpillar on a bush not far off. He growled softly in his throat at the robin—just to tell it that he was on guard, so beware.

Then something came down the wide road, something that made Timmy shake with excitement, and sniff at the strange smells that came floating up to the garden. A big procession came winding up the road, with a rumble and clatter of wheels—a slow procession, headed by a very strange thing.

Timmy had no idea what it was that headed the procession. Actually it was a big elephant, and Timmy smelt its smell, strange and strong, and didn’t like it. He smelt the scent of the monkeys in their travelling cage, too, and he heard the barking of the performing dogs in their van.

He answered them defiantly. ‘woof, woof, woof.’

The loud barking awoke all four children at once. ‘Shut up, Timmy,’ said George crossly. ‘What a row to make when we’re all having a nap.’

‘Woof,’ said Timmy obstinately, and pawed at his mistress to make her sit up and take notice. George sat up. She saw the procession at once and gave a yell.

‘Hey, you others. There’s a circus procession going by. Look.’

They all sat up, wide awake now. They stared down at the caravans going slowly along, and listened to an animal howling, and the dogs barking.

‘Look at that elephant, pulling the caravan along,’ said Anne. ‘He must be jolly strong.’

‘Let’s go down to the gate of the drive and watch,’ said Dick. So they all got up and ran down the garden, then round the house and into the drive that led to the road. The procession was just passing the gates.

It was a gay sight. The caravans were painted in brilliant colours, and looked spick and span from the outside. Little flowery curtains hung at the windows. At the front of each caravan sat the man or woman who owned it, driving the horse that pulled it. Only the front caravan was pulled by an elephant.

‘Golly—doesn’t it look exciting?’ said George. ‘I wish I belonged to a circus that went wandering all over the place all the year. That’s just the sort of life I’d like.’

‘Fat lot of good you’d be in the circus,’ said Dick rudely. ‘You can’t even turn a cart-wheel.’

‘What’s a cart-wheel?’ said Anne.

‘What that boy’s doing over there,’ said Dick. ‘Look.’

He pointed to a boy who was turning cart-wheels very quickly, going over and over on his hands and feet, turning himself like a wheel. It looked so easy, but it wasn’t, as Dick very well knew.

‘Oh, is he turning a cart-wheel?’ said Anne admiringly. ‘I wish I could do that.’

The boy came up to them and grinned. He had two terrier dogs with him. Timmy growled and George put her hand on his collar.

‘Don’t come too near,’ she called. ‘Timmy isn’t quite sure about you.’

‘We won’t hurt him!’ said the boy, and grinned again. He had an ugly, freckled face, with a shock of untidy hair. ‘I won’t let my dogs eat your Timmy.’

‘As if they could!’ began George scornfully, and then laughed. The terriers kept close to the boy’s heels. He clicked and both dogs rose at once on their hind legs and walked sedately behind him with funny little steps.

‘Oh—are they performing dogs?’ said Anne. ‘Are they yours?’

‘These two are,’ said the boy. ‘This is Barker and this is Growler. I’ve had them from pups—clever as paint they are!’

‘Woof,’ said Timmy, apparently disgusted at seeing dogs walk in such a peculiar way. It had never occurred to him that a dog could get up on his hind legs.

‘Where are you giving your next show?’ asked George eagerly. ‘We’d like to see it.’

‘We’re off for a rest,’ said the boy. ‘Up in the hills, where there’s a blue lake at the bottom. We’re allowed to camp there with our animals—it’s wild and lonely and we don’t disturb nobody. We just camp there with our caravans.’

‘It sounds fine,’ said Dick. ‘Which is your caravan?’

‘This one, just coming’ said the boy, and he pointed to a brightly painted van, whose sides were blue and yellow, and whose wheels were red. ‘I live in it with my Uncle Dan. He’s the chief clown of the circus. There he is, sitting on the front, driving the horse.’

The children stared at the chief clown, and thought that they had never seen anyone less like a clown. He was dressed in dirty grey flannel trousers and a dirty red shirt open at an equally dirty neck.

He didn’t look as if he could make a single joke, or do anything in the least funny. In fact, he looked really bad-tempered, the children thought, and he scowled so fiercely as he chewed on an old pipe that Anne felt quite scared. He didn’t look at the children at all, but called in a sharp voice to the boy:

‘Nobby! You come on along of us. Get in the caravan and make me a cup of tea.’

The boy Nobby winked at the children and ran to the caravan. It was plain that Uncle Dan kept him in order all right! He poked his head out of the little window in the side of the caravan nearest to the children.

‘Sorry I can’t ask you to tea too!’ he called. ‘And the dog. Barker and Growler wouldn’t half like to know him!’

The caravan passed on, taking the scowling clown with it, and the grinning Nobby. The children watched the others going by, too; it was quite a big circus. There was a cage of monkeys, a chimpanzee sitting in a corner of a dark cage, asleep, a string of beautiful horses, sleek and shining, a great wagon carrying benches and forms and tents, caravans for the circus folk to live in, and a host of interesting people to see, sitting on the steps of their vans or walking together outside to stretch their legs.

At last the procession was gone and the children went slowly back to their sunny corner in the garden. They sat down—and then George announced something that made them sit up straight.

‘I know what we’ll do these hols! We’ll hire a caravan and go off in it by ourselves. Do let’s! Oh, do let’s!’