Читать книгу Bad Dad - David Walliams, Quentin Blake, Tony Ross - Страница 15

In no time at all, Frank was speeding down the staircase, and pretending he was a real-life racing driver.

The washing basket juddered as it hit each step. Frank had to hold on tight or he might be thrown out.

Just as in a banger race, there were plenty of things to bash into. It was hard to steer a basket, but Frank did his best to lean left and right, narrowly missing:

a broken-down washing machine…

an uptured shopping trolley…

a flock of pigeons…

a TV that had been in…

a delivery driver carrying a of pizzas…

a crate of empty bottles…

and a tiny old lady who was being dragged up the stairs by three little dogs

One person was not so lucky. That was the local vicar, Reverend Judith. Unfortunately for her, Frank took a bend far too fast, and bashed slap-bang into the lady.

“ARGH!” she cried as she shot up into the air.

Look! A flying vicar!

The lady did a somersault (her first) and landed on her bottom.

Fortunately for Frank, Reverend Judith was such a nice lady that she was the one who apologised.

“So sorry for being in your way!” called out the vicar.

“I am so sorry, Reverend Judith!” shouted back the boy as he continued speeding down the staircase.

“I hope to see you at church on Sunday!” added the lady hopefully, rubbing her bruised behind. The vicar was always at the tower block inviting the residents to her empty church, even though they never came. Frank felt sorry for the lady, though not sorry enough to get out of bed on a Sunday morning and go.

The washing basket rattled down the last few steps and across the concrete.

Eventually it came to a stop. The boy hid the basket behind some bins, and then dashed off in the direction of the local pub, the Executioner and Axe.

As he peered in through the grimy window, Frank saw the pub was heaving. This was the grown-up world in all its glory. Men were arguing, women were fighting and everyone was drinking. The pub was so noisy it hardly seemed the most sensible place for a top-secret meeting. Try as he might, the boy couldn’t spot his father anywhere.

Just as he was about to give up and head home, Frank heard muffled voices coming from the car park. The boy turned round to see some men sitting talking in a Rolls-Royce. The Rolls-Royce stuck out, not just from its bay because of its size, but also because it was the kind of expensive car you never ever saw on an estate like this.

The boy couldn’t make out the men too clearly as the car was full of cigar smoke. Frank edged his way round the other parked cars to get a little closer. He could just see the outline of his dad sitting in the driving seat. But who were the other men? And what was he doing in this hugely expensive car?

To try to hear what was being said, Frank climbed up on to the roof of the plumber’s van parked next to the Rolls-Royce. But all he could hear was the occasional word. It sounded like the men were talking quietly so as not to be overheard.

The boy had come so far. He wasn’t going to give up now. So, as delicately as he could, Frank stepped from the top of the van on to the roof of the Rolls-Royce. He lay down on top of the car so he could hear what was being said.

This would turn out to be a dangerous mistake.