When the Tripods Came by John Christopher

Author:John Christopher [Christopher, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Tags: General, Fiction, Science Fiction, Action & Adventure, Juvenile Fiction, Fantasy & Magic, Adventure, Boys & Men
ISBN: 9780140326024
Publisher: Simon & Schuster Children's Publishing
Published: 2003-03-31T23:00:00+00:00

SIX

Martha just told Angela we were going on a holiday to Guernsey; otherwise there would have been trouble about leaving the pony. Andy and I went to the livery stables with her to say good-bye to it. I kept out of the way of its teeth, but it had a go at kicking me which came close. I decided again that I could live comfortably in a world without horses.

All the same, I felt a bit sad watching Angela hugging it. I couldn't take my racing bike, either, but leaving a living thing behind, even a rotten-tempered one like Prince, was different. Though really Prince was going to be all right; it made no difference to a pony who or what ruled the world, as long as the fodder kept coming.

Angela fed him his au re-voir present of bran mash, and came away cheerfully talking about Guernsey, and whether it was too late in the year for swimming. We set out at first light in Martha's Jaguar. We were stopped twice by police. They acted tough— hadn't we heard the instructions to stay at home?— but Pa and Martha put on a strong double act. They said she had a sister with a heart condition living by herself at Starcross, who had been panicking on the telephone. The sergeant at the second roadblock asked Pa why he hadn't come alone to pick his aunt up. Pa told him a gang of Capped had been reported close to the village, and he couldn't risk leaving the children or his ailing mother. Martha did her best to look frail; fortunately the light wasn't good.

The sergeant got more friendly after that. He said it was lucky Pa's aunt lived on this side of the river; things were bad on the other bank, and they'd lost contact with Exmouth. There were reports, too, that Capped tanks were on the move from Dartmoor—towards Plymouth probably, but they might swing this way. Pa said we'd get home as soon as possible, and dig in. It couldn't last long, could it?

The sergeant was a tall bony man with a Falklands ribbon.

He said, "My grandfather used to talk about the 1914 War. They told him it would be over by Christmas and he was four years out there." He shook his head. "And at least they could tell who the enemy was."

The weather had turned wintry, and by the time we reached the mooring, just after nine, sleet was driving in from the west. The tide was high—that

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