The Thorn Island Adventure by Fleur Hitchcock

Author:Fleur Hitchcock [Hitchcock, Fleur]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781788007894
Publisher: Nosy Crow
Published: 2020-05-15T00:00:00+00:00

“Faster!” yelled Josh as they struggled over the lumpy, bumpy roots of the trees.

Behind them he could hear shouting.

“Those two … tricked us … stop them!” He couldn’t make out any more words, but the voice sounded very angry. Josh thought it was probably Red Vest.

“I’m on it!” came the woman’s voice, and then he heard an engine. It might have been a strimmer, but he had a feeling it was probably a motorbike and that it was probably chasing them.

“They’re going to be faster than us,” shouted Chloe, swinging past an overhanging branch.

“I’ve got an idea,” said Josh, desperately trying to remember the exact layout of the island. “Stay with me.”

He swung to the right, shooting out of the trees and striking out across grassy parkland. There was no cover, just the occasional massive tree, but he could see the edge of the lawns of Thorn House and the thing Grandma called a ha-ha, which separated the formal garden from the rest of the grass. It was like a giant step about a metre high, with the garden above and the field below. The sheep in the park couldn’t get up it. But he hoped he and Chloe could.

Behind them the motorbike burst from the trees. It was a hundred metres away, seventy, fifty.

“This is mad!” shouted Chloe. “We should head for the gate.”

“No!” Josh yelled over his shoulder. “Trust me.”

He made it to the ha-ha first, throwing himself off his bike and chucking it up into the garden. He hauled himself up on to the grass and grabbed Chloe’s bike, dragging it up. Chloe followed a millisecond later as the motorbike thundered towards them. “Quick!” shouted Josh and he ran for the tall yew hedges that surrounded the flower beds, rolling his bike with him into the crowds of holidaymakers “ooohing” and “aaahing” over the floral displays.

Chloe remounted and cycled straight past him into the ornamental garden.

“You can’t bring bikes in here,” said a woman pushing a pram. “You have to go on the designated trails, don’t they, Trevor?”

Her husband looked up from the guidebook and nodded. “Hmm, ’spec’ so,” he said, pointing at a piece of wall. “Henry the Eighth had that built, you know.”

“Sorry,” muttered Josh, desperately trying to keep Chloe in sight. Fixing a smile on his face he dismounted and pushed the bike through the crowds, bouncing the wheel on and off the paths, stopping and starting and bumping and braking.

“Ow!”

“Mind out!”

“You should be on the cycle path!”

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Josh smiled, as sweetly as he could, and attempted to look casual as he ran alongside his bike, trying to catch up with Chloe. Ahead of him she stopped to catch her breath.

“Come on,” hissed Josh, hurrying past her. “We can’t stop.” He led the way through to the back of the garden, past the ornamental ponds. They bumped into more people and forced their bike tyres over more sandalled feet. Chloe must have said “sorry” a hundred times.

Josh resisted the temptation to look back; he was sure they were still being pursued.

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