Читать книгу The 1,000-year-old Boy - Ross Welford, Ross Welford - Страница 27

The trees were still dripping from their soaking the previous night and the ground underfoot was soft pale mud, with fresh footprints. Roxy, I figured, must already be inside, and I pushed the door, which swung open, but no one was there.

Just then, Roxy squeezed herself through the gap in the fence, her tiny foot first, her tousled head last.

‘Hiya,’ she said, immediately noticing the door was open. ‘How did you get in?’

‘It was open,’ I said, then raised my finger to my lips to say ‘shh’ and pointed to the footprints in the mud, which, it seemed, were not hers. Now that I looked, I could see that the trail led inside the garage. Instinctively, I think, Roxy lowered her voice.

‘Someone’s been in here. One of the firemen, you reckon?’ she said.

I pointed at the small footprints. ‘It’d have to be one with very dainty feet.’

She gave her little bark of laughter. ‘Very good, Sherlock! But what about my laptop?’

I shrugged, and she pushed past me to the other side of the desk where she kept the computer. Then she just screamed.

And I mean screamed.

For all her small frame, it was a big shriek, followed by little gasps, ‘Ah-ah-ah,’ then, ‘Aidan!’

‘What?’ I was just standing there, unable to do anything because I had no idea what had caused her to shriek.

Roxy’s eyes were fixed on something under the desk, something I couldn’t see.

‘Th-there’s a … a person.’

OK, so what we should have done was calmly leave the shed-cum-garage, locking the door behind us, and call the police.

That would have been sensible. That’s what you should do if you’re ever in the position of finding a person hiding under your desk in an old workman’s hut.

Instead I stepped forward and seized the desk with both hands, tipping it towards me on two legs till it crashed over, revealing a smallish figure curled up in a ball like a scared hedgehog and visibly trembling.

‘What the …’

‘Who the …’

Slowly, like a leaf uncurling in spring, the figure lifted its head, straightened its back and looked up at us standing either side.

‘You!’ Roxy and I said in unison.

The boy from the cottage blinked hard at the light coming through the doorway and slowly stood up and said, ‘Memam … memam … memam …’

Just that. Babbling and blinking, looking first at me and then at Roxy.

She, of course, understood first.

‘Your mam?’

He nodded. ‘Me mam.’ He swallowed hard and carried on blinking in the light.