Читать книгу Things the Eye Can't See - Penny Joelson - Страница 13

7

‘Saved your life?’ This is so big, so unexpected. I feel a strange kind of dizziness. The bright sun isn’t helping. I hold my hand in front of my face. ‘What happened?’

‘It was years ago, when we were ten,’ says Kyle. ‘We got abducted by a man in a car.’

I feel that stone again, the one I felt like I swallowed yesterday, and it’s lying heavy in in my tummy. I’m scared of what he’s going to say next. I move my hand from shielding my eyes, putting it over my stomach instead. ‘What happened?’

‘Sometimes we walked home from school together. It was raining the day it happened and we were drenched. We weren’t even wearing coats. This car stopped and a man wound down the window.’

Kyle’s voice has lost all expression. I sense this is hard for him to talk about.

‘Go on,’ I tell him.

‘The man – he smiled at us and said something like, “I thought it was you! You look like drowned rats! Here, get in, I’ll give you a lift.” I reckoned it must be someone Charlie knew,’ Kyle explains. ‘Charlie thought the same. He said after, he thought I knew the guy. Anyway, we both just got in. He started driving. He didn’t ask where we lived, so again, we both thought he knew already. It was raining so hard, we could hardly see out the windows. But he turned the wrong way at the traffic lights. That’s when I panicked.’

‘So Charlie didn’t know him either?’ I say, in horror.

‘Exactly,’ says Kyle.

I’m trying to imagine this. I can only relate it to the feeling I’ve had when I’m out alone and a stranger grabs my arm, without saying anything first. They might be trying to help, but in that moment I don’t know that – they might be intending to steal my bag or phone or pull me into the bushes. That’s scary enough. But this sounds scarier.

‘I told the man I thought he’d taken the wrong turn,’ Kyle continues. ‘My voice was all wobbly. I was just hoping desperately that it was true, he’d made a mistake. He said there were roadworks, but I was sure there weren’t any near us.

‘I asked him, “Are we going to Charlie’s or mine?” But he didn’t answer – he said maybe we’d both like an ice cream first. My heart was beating so fast. This wasn’t right. It just wasn’t. Charlie told the man that was nice of him, but his mum would want him home and I said, me too. Of course, we didn’t have mobile phones.

‘But the guy questioned why we didn’t like ice cream. I was terrified. I couldn’t speak any more. Charlie just said, “Maybe another time?”

‘Then he said he’d got chocolate biscuits and that no boy could say no to that. I was trying not to piss myself. We’d been warned about getting into cars with strangers. We’d seen the news stories. This man had got us on purpose. He was going to do bad things to us – and then he was going to kill us.’

‘So what happened?’ I ask, wondering if I even really wanted to know.

‘Then the car came to a stop,’ says Kyle. ‘The man was taking off his seatbelt. I was still paralysed, but Charlie moved so fast. He got the back door open – grabbed me and dragged me out and pulled me and we were running and I’d never run so fast in my life. We didn’t look back, not for ages. We were sure he was coming after us. But when we stopped, there was no sign of him. I’d never have got out on my own. Charlie saved me. He got me out.’

‘So did you go to the police?’ I ask. ‘Did they get him?’

‘No. Looking back, maybe we should’ve done. But we didn’t even tell our parents. I mean, we’d been stupid, hadn’t we? We’d have got a right telling off, both of us. We were OK. We’d learned our lesson. The man was long gone. There was no point in telling anyone. I’ve never told a soul until today.’

‘Oh Kyle, I’m so sorry.’ It sounds lame as I speak the words, but I don’t know what else to say. ‘Charlie helped me once too. But nothing like that.’

‘I know he can be trouble, but he’s not all bad,’ Kyle says quietly. ‘We . . .’

‘We’ve got to help him, haven’t we?’ I finish Kyle’s sentence for him. ‘We’ve got to do something.’

‘I want to. But what?’ asks Kyle.

My mind is whirring. ‘Do you know where he lives?’ I ask.

‘No. He’s moved since primary school. I only knew his old address.’

‘There must be someone who knows more,’ I say. ‘Someone we can talk to.’

‘Hang on,’ says Kyle. ‘He’s got a sister. Maybe she can help.’

‘A sister? How old is she?’

‘Three years younger,’ says Kyle. ‘I can picture him picking her up in the playground at primary school and swinging her round and she was laughing. She must be in Year 7.’

‘Great!’ I say. I feel relieved that there is something we can do. ‘Surely she’ll know something. Let’s find her at school on Monday and ask her.’

‘Sounds like a plan,’ says Kyle.

I’m about to ask Kyle if he can see Samson, when I hear the jingle of Samson’s bell and then panting as he bounds up and rubs his body against my legs. I stroke him gently. ‘Good boy, Samson. Let’s get the harness back on you. It’s time to go.’

‘Can I ask you something about Samson?’ Kyle says as we start walking back to the gate. ‘It may be a stupid question, but I can’t help wondering . . .’

‘What?’ I ask. ‘Ask me anything, I won’t mind.’

‘When Samson poops, how do you know where he’s done it? How do you scoop it up if you can’t see? Or don’t guide dog owners have to do that?’

I laugh. ‘We don’t have to, but Samson usually goes in the same place, in our garden, so I know where to scoop. Or if we’re out for a long time and we’re in a good place for him to go, I can tell him and he’ll do it if he needs to – and stay put so that I can find the spot.’

‘Clever dog you’ve got there,’ says Kyle. ‘You two are so good together. Like proper friends.’

‘Yeah. Though I don’t go round picking up all my friends’ poop, you know,’ I joke.