Читать книгу Five Go to Demon's Rocks - Enid blyton - Страница 6

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Mrs Kirrin had appeared during the row, and sighed when she heard her husband shouting. Oh dear dear—these scientists who liked to do wonderful things for the world—and yet often made their own families unhappy! She smiled at George’s angry face, and took her arm.

‘Come into the living-room, dear, and bring the others with you. We’ll have to decide what can be done. Your father really is doing wonderful work, you know—and I must say that Tinker and Mischief and Timmy don’t help very much! All right, all right, George—I know it isn’t Timmy’s fault—but he does have a very loud bark, you know!’

She took the five children and Timmy into the living room. The monkey, scared at the shouting had gone into hiding and was nowhere to be seen. Mrs Kirrin called to Joan.

‘Joan—come and help us to discuss what’s to be done. This kind of thing can’t go on.’

They all sat down, looking rather solemn. Timmy flopped down under the table, and put his nose on his paws. Where was that little monkey who had given him his biscuit?

The discussion began. George spoke first, most indignantly.

‘Mother, this is our home. Why do we have to go away just because Father wants this scientist friend to stay with him? I have to do holiday homework, and I don’t make a row every time Father bangs a door when I’m studying. But if I so much as ...’

‘That will do, George,’ said her mother. ‘You ought to understand your father better than you seem to. You are both exactly the same—impatient, short-tempered, bangers-of-doors, and yet both so kind too! Now—let’s see if we can find a way out.’

‘I only wish we could stay at my home,’ said Julian, feeling awkward. ‘But it’s all shut up now that my parents have gone away.’

‘Can’t we take tents over to Kirrin Island?’ said George. ‘Yes, Mother, yes—I know what you’re going to say—it’s only the beginning of April, and it’s far too cold and all the rest of it, and ...’

‘The forecast for the weather is very bad,’ said her mother. ‘Rain, rain, nothing but rain. You can’t possibly go and camp in the pouring rain—and row to and fro getting drenched each day—I’d have you all in bed with bronchitis before three days had gone—and then what should we do!’

‘All right, Mother—have you any good suggestions?’ said George, still cross.

‘Hey—what’s that monkey doing?’ said Dick, suddenly. ‘Stop him!’

‘He’s only poking the fire,’ said Tinker. ‘He thinks it’s cold in here.’

‘Well, what next!’ said Joan, and took the poker firmly from the monkey’s little paw. ‘Do you want to set the house on fire, you—you little ...’

‘Monkey!’ finished Dick, with a grin. ‘I must say that Mischief is always up to mischief! Can’t keep your eye off him for a moment!’

‘Well, now—if we can’t go to Kirrin Island, or back home, or stay here—where can we go?’ said Julian, looking serious. ‘Hotels are too expensive—and which of our friends would like to have five of us to stay, plus a wicked little monkey and a big dog with an enormous appetite?’

There was a silence. What a problem! Then suddenly Tinker spoke up.

‘I know where we could go—and we’d jolly well have some fun, too!’ he said.

‘Oh—and where is this wonderful place?’ asked George disbelievingly.

‘Well—I was thinking of my light-house,’ said Tinker most surprisingly. And then, as no one said anything, but merely stared at him in astonishment, he nodded at them. ‘I said my light-house—don’t you know what a light-house is?’

‘Don’t be silly, please,’ said Dick. ‘This is not time for jokes.’

‘It’s not a joke,’ said Tinker, indignantly. ‘It’s perfectly true. You ask my father.’

‘But Tinker dear—you can’t possibly own a light-house,’ said Mrs Kirrin, smiling.

‘Well, I do,’ said Tinker, quite fiercely. ‘You see, my father had some very special work to do, that couldn’t be done on land—so he bought an old empty light-house, and did his work there. I went to stay with him—my, it was grand there, with the wind and the waves crashing about all the time.’

‘But—surely he didn’t give it to you, did he?’ said Julian, disbelievingly.

‘Yes, he did. Why shouldn’t he, if I wanted it badly?’ demanded Tinker. ‘He didn’t want it any more, and nobody would buy it—and I wanted it terribly, so he gave it to me on my last birthday. And it’s mine, I tell you.’

‘Well, I’m blessed!’ said Julian. ‘Here’s old George owning an island given to her by her mother—and Tinker owning a light-house given to him by his father! I wish my parents would present me with a volcano, or something really thrilling!’

George’s eyes shone as she looked at the surprising Tinker. ‘A light-house—of your very own! Where is it?’

‘About ten miles along this coast to the west,’ said Tinker. ‘It’s not an awfully big one, you know—but it’s smashing! The old lamp is still there, but it’s not used now.’

‘Why not?’ asked Dick.

‘Well, because a big new light-house was built farther along the coast, in a better position for warning ships,’ explained Tinker. ‘That’s how it was this old one was put up for sale. It was fine for my father to work in. Nobody ever disturbed him there—though he did get very angry with the sea-gulls sometimes. He said they mewed like great cats all the time, and made him feel he ought to put out milk for them.’

This made everyone burst into loud laughter, and Tinker sat beaming round proudly. How clever he must be to make these children laugh like that—yes, and even Joan and Mrs Kirrin too! He broke into their laughter by banging on the table.

‘You do believe me now, don’t you?’ he said. ‘It’s quite true that the light-house is mine. You ask my father. Do let’s all go and stay in it till our two fathers have finished their work. We could take Timmy and Mischief too—there’s plenty of room.’

This proposal was so astonishing that no one answered for a few moments. Then George gave him a friendly dig in the chest.

‘I’ll come! Fancy living in a light-house! I bet the girls at school won’t believe that!’

‘Aunt Fanny! May we go?’ said Anne, her eyes shining too.

‘Well—I don’t know,’ said her aunt. ‘It really is a most extraordinary idea. I shall have to discuss it with your uncle, and with Tinker’s father too.’

‘My father will say yes, I know he will!’ said Tinker. ‘We left some stores there—and some blankets—I say, wouldn’t it be grand to run a light-house ourselves!’

The idea certainly appealed to all the Five—even Timmy thumped his tail on the floor as if he had understood every word. He probably had—he never missed anything that was going on!

‘I’ve a map that shows where my light-house is,’ said Tinker, scrabbling in one of his pockets. ‘It’s rather crumpled and dirty because I’ve looked at it so often. Look—here’s a map of the coastline—and just there—built on rocks is my light-house. It’s marked by a round dot, look!’

Everyone pored over the grubby map. Nobody had the least doubt but that this was the answer to all their problems! Dick stared at the excited Tinker. How lucky he was to own a light-house! Dick had never before met a light-house owner—and to think it should be this funny little Tinker!

‘The rocks that the light-house is built on used to wreck many ships,’ said Tinker. ‘Wreckers used to work along that coast, you know—they would shine a light as if to guide ships along the coast, and make them go on the rocks. Crash! They’d be broken to pieces, and everyone drowned—and the wreckers would wait till the ship was washed up on the shore, and then take everything they could from her.’

‘The wicked wretches!’ said Dick, horrified.

‘There’s a Wreckers’ Cave there, too, where the wreckers stored the things they stole from the wrecked ships,’ said Tinker. ‘I haven’t been very far into it—I’m too scared to. They do say there’s an old wrecker or two there still.’

‘Oh nonsense!’ said Mrs Kirrin, laughing. ‘That’s probably just a tale to keep children away from dangerous caves and rocks. Well, dears—I really don’t see any reason why you shouldn’t go to Tinker’s light-house, if his father agrees.’

‘Mother! thank you!’ cried George and gave her mother a hug that made her gasp. ‘I say—living in an old light-house—it’s too good to be true! I shall take my binoculars and keep watch for ships!’

‘Well, Julian had better take his record-player as well,’ said Mrs Kirrin. ‘If it’s stormy weather, it may be a bit duller than you think, mewed up in a lonely light-house!’

‘It will be marvellous!’ cried Tinker, and he suddenly became a racing-car, tearing round the room at top speed, making a most extraordinary noise. Timmy barked and Mischief began to chatter loudly.

‘Sh!’ said Mrs Kirrin. ‘You’ll make your father cross, Tinker, and that will be the end of your fine idea. Switch your engine off, please, and sit down quietly! I’ll talk to your father as soon as I can!’