The Boy Who Wasn't There by K M Peyton

Author:K M Peyton [K. M. Peyton]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Random House Children's UK
Published: 2012-12-26T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

THE ROAD THEY were following led to a tourist camping site on a hillside overlooking a lake. Ferretface drove past and took another unsurfaced route marked ‘Unsuitable for Motors’. It was by now seven o’clock, a grey evening promising drizzle, and there were no campers to be seen. Only early lights shining in the big tents showed any sign of life, and Christian did not stop to plead help.

‘Mustn’t lose him or Arn’ll be a goner!’

Afterwards, they supposed one of them could have tumbled out and raised an alarm, but by the time they thought of this they were well past and jerking up the mountainside desperately trying to keep within sight of the Citroen’s occasional bright brake-lights. Christian had grated into second gear and Mildred’s old car was labouring.

They were all in a state of high anxiety and excitement. Christian, totally occupied with his driving, said nothing and John Pike at his side was quiet and grim, trying to work out whether things were quite as serious as he rather thought they were. In the back Hoomey was white-faced, trying not to burst into tears – it was all his fault, after all, that had been made quite clear to him – while the two girls bounced about urging Christian on.

‘Five of us – we’ll get ’im!’ Nutty was crowing. ‘C’m on, Chris, put your foot down!’

‘He can’t really be wanting to murder him, surely?’ Jodie appealed. ‘It can’t be that important?’

‘Arnie is a real threat to their success – you think about it,’ John Pike pointed out. ‘No-one suspects what they’ve done. Only Arnie. Arnie knows more than is good for him.’

‘But so do we, now,’ Jodie said.

‘Yeah, that’s what I’m worried about!’

‘You don’t think—!’ Nutty stopped bouncing and leaned over the seat, breathing down Christian’s neck. ‘He’ll murder all of us?’

Hoomey started to cry. He stared out of the window, trying to convince himself he was on holiday, having a great time.

‘He can’t,’ Jodie said bluntly. ‘There’s too many of us!’

The road hairpinned upwards. Christian crashed gears valiantly but managed to keep the old car from stalling. The gravelly surface spun out from beneath the spinning wheels and there was a strong smell of burning rubber. But the gradient eased gradually and the road came out on to a high plateau. On the left beyond a flattish stretch the land dipped into a deep gorge with a stream in spate running down towards a far valley; the hillside reared up steeply beyond, with a crown of rocks standing black against the rain-steely sky. Ahead there was sparse forest with high mountains beyond, and mountains rimmed the view to the right. There appeared to be nowhere to go ahead, but the road slashed on across a sea of heather and the tail-lights of the Citroen were still in sight, fireflies in the gathering gloom.

‘Does he know we’re following him?’ John Pike wondered.

‘If he does, I wouldn’t have thought he’d have his lights on,’ Christian said. ‘That’s why I’m not using them.

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