Where the River Begins by Patricia St. John

Author:Patricia St. John [St. John, Patricia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Moody Publishers
Published: 2021-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

9

Refuge

Come right in,” said the farmer. “Aren’t you the little chap who took our boat?”

It seemed a bad beginning. Francis sniffed sadly and stepped inside. The family was having a noisy tea in the kitchen, but the farmer led Francis into a little sort of office, and they both sat down.

“Do your parents know you’ve come?” asked the farmer.

“Mum’s in the hospital,” replied Francis. “Dad knows I’ve gone for a bike ride. I’ve got to go into a foster home.”

“So you said before,” said the farmer. “Have you had some tea?”

Francis shook his head. The farmer went away and came back with a mug of tea and a slice of homemade cake. When it was finished, the farmer leaned back in his chair. “Now tell me all about it,” he said.

And Francis, warmed and fortified by tea and cake, and encouraged by the deeply attentive man in front of him, went on. With the help of a few questions, he told everything, and by the time he had finished, the farmer knew all about Tyke, Spotty, the telephone booth, Ram, the fire, Mum, Dad, Wendy, Debby, and the police. It was quite a story, and when he had finished, Francis looked up pleadingly.

“So, you see,” he said, “if you can’t care for me, I don’t know where I shall go, and Tyke will get me. But you’d have to care for my cat too, ’cause she can’t go to Yorkshire, and she can’t stay alone, so she’d have to come, wouldn’t she?”

“Of course,” agreed the farmer. “If you come, the cat comes too. She could be the official barn mouser.”

Francis laughed gladly and had a strange feeling that it was the first time he had laughed like that for quite a while.

“I’m going to phone your father and talk to my wife,” said the farmer. He was gone for about twenty minutes while Francis thumbed through pamphlets about the milk board. When he came back he was smiling.

“Come on,” he said. “You can leave your bike in the shed. I’m taking you home to have a chat with your dad.”

They drove in silence for both had quite a lot to think about, and when they arrived, Mr. West came to the door to meet them, looking rather uncomfortable.

“Good evening,” he said. “I’m sorry to have put you to all this trouble. I had no idea where Francis had gone. Francis, go and eat your supper. Come in here, Mr. Glenny.”

They talked for quite a time. Then Dad put his head around the kitchen door and said, “All right, Francis, they very kindly say they’ll have you, and Mr. Glenny will take you now. There’s an empty suitcase in our bedroom. Run upstairs and collect what you need.”

Francis shot upstairs and shoved his clothes into the suitcase. He was just about to start on his toy cupboard when his stepfather appeared. “Come along,” he said. “You’ll only need your clothes. You can’t take all that junk. The gentleman’s waiting. You’ve got some nerve, haven’t you! However, it seems to be turning out for the best.

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