Bad Dad

by David Walliams

  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.

  “What if we get caught?” It was Frank’s father speaking.

  Get caught doing what? thought Frank as he lay on the roof of the Rolls-Royce, listening in.

  “If you drive fast enough, no one will get caught,” replied a man. “I have done all the research. I have plans of the inside. You will be in and out in two minutes.”

  “I ain’t sure about this. It’s much bigger than you told me. Just let me pay you back the money I borrowed from you. Please?” said Dad.

  “I’ve heard that one a million times before from you.”

  “I will find a job.”

  “There are no jobs in this town, especially for someone who has to hop to get around.”

  There was a low rumble of mocking laughter from the two men in the back seats. “Ha! Ha! Ha!”

  “You love your boy, don’t you?” said the man.

  Frank gulped. He was talking about him.

  “Yeah, yeah, of course I do. I love him more than anything in the world. What’s he got to do with all this?”

  “I would hate for anything to happen to him.”

  “You leave my boy out of this!”

  “Then do what I say.”

  “If you ever do anything to hurt my boy, I’ll…”

  “You’ll what?” snarled the man in the front passenger seat. “Take off your false leg and kick me with it?”

  The two men in the back laughed again.

  “Ha! Ha! Ha!”

  “All right, all right,” said Dad. “I’ll do what you say. But just this once. One job, and then I am done.”

  “That wasn’t too hard now, was it?” purred the man in the front seat. “So, Gilbert, I want you to show me that you can still drive, like in the old days.”

  “I can still drive all right. Leg or no leg.”

  “Then show me.”

  “Are you ready?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hold on tight,” replied Dad.

  The huge Rolls-Royce engine revved up.

  Then the back wheels spun furiously, and clouds of smoke filled the air. Frank couldn’t help but splutter at the smell of burning rubber. The boy struggled to his feet so he could jump back on the van parked beside the car. But Dad was much too quick for him. The Rolls-Royce raced off into the night with Frank standing on the roof!

  Frank slammed his body down on to the roof of the car and clung on for dear life. The Rolls-Royce had spun out of the pub car park, and in no time was speeding down the road at one hundred miles an hour. The boy’s eyes were watering and his hair was sticking up on end. This was the most dangerous fairground ride of all time.

  Of course Dad had no clue that his son was clinging on to the roof of the Rolls-Royce. If he had, the man would never have:

  driven straight through a red light…

  swerved sharply to overtake a bus…

  and crashed through a fence…

  before speeding through the park.

  The Rolls-Royce bobbed up and down on the grass.

  The boy was bounced into the air, his body thumping up and down on the roof.

  THUD! THUD! THUD!

  “OOF! OOF! OOF!”

  Just as he dared to open his eyes again, Frank saw that they were heading straight for another fence on the far side of the park.

  Planks of wood exploded into the air. A large chunk whizzed past the top of Frank’s head.

  Everything was happening so fast that there was no time to breathe.

  The car was heading straight towards an alleyway, which was much narrower than the car itself. If Dad didn’t put on the brakes right now, it looked like the Rolls-Royce would slap-bang into a brick wall.

  “STOP!” shouted the man in the passenger seat.

  “ARGH!” screamed the pair in the back.

  Instead the car’s engine revved and sped up.

  “NOOO!” came shouts from inside.

  Frank couldn’t take it any more. The boy had to close his eyes.

  On one side of the alleyway was a pile of planks of wood. The Rolls-Royce turned sharply and the wheels on the left side the planks and it on to two wheels!

  Frank opened his eyes again as he found himself sliding down the side of the roof. His fingers desperately clawed to get a grip.

  Still on two wheels, the car just made it through the narrow alleyway.

  “YOU’RE SQUASHING ME!” came a shout from inside the car.

  Bursting out of the other side of the alley, Dad turned the steering wheel sharply and the car bounced back down to four wheels.

  BOINK!

  Just as Frank breathed a sigh of relief, a siren blared.

  Blue shadows flashed on the buildings around them. The boy looked over his shoulder. A police car was chasing after them.

  Dad put his foot down on the accelerator, and the Rolls-Royce whizzed off the wrong way down a main road. Frank couldn’t believe his eyes. The car was weaving in and out of the traffic coming straight at them! Lorries and cars swerved as Dad managed to twist and turn just in time.

  It was thrilling and terrifying all at once.

  Up ahead, a wall of flashing blue light was travelling rapidly towards them. For a moment, Frank struggled to work out what it was. He squinted. It was the POLICE! A line of police cars was travelling towards them at speed. They were driving in formation, blocking out the whole road.

  There was no way round them.

  There was no way under them.

  There was no way through them.

  They were trapped.

  Dad was a champion race driver, but surely even he could not win this time.

  Frank breathed a sigh of relief. This horrifying ordeal was over. He was going to see his twelfth birthday after all.

  However, instead of
slowing down, Dad sped up. Between the Rolls-Royce and the wall of police cars was a huge lorry. The lorry’s trailer was one that transported cars, though right now it was empty. The lorry driver must have panicked at seeing this car speeding straight towards him, as the vehicle spun round dramatically in the middle of the road…

  SCREECH! … and came to a halt.

  Dad seized his chance, and sped towards the back of the lorry. The ramp for loading cars was down. The Rolls-Royce powered on, straight at it.

  It hit the ramp and raced up it. When it reached the top the Rolls-Royce took off and flew through the air.

  The boy could feel his heart beating in his chest.

  It was beating so hard it felt as if it was going to burst out of him. Time slowed down and sped up all at once. Frank was flying. He wanted it to end right now. He never wanted it to end.

  The Rolls-Royce soared over the line of police cars, just clipping the roof of one with a back tyre on the way down.

  Before it crash-landed on the road behind the wall of cars with a huge BUMP! Frank thought he was going to be hurled into the air as the car down the road like a football.

  The boy just managed to grip on to the roof of the Rolls-Royce. In no time, the car righted itself and sped off down the road.

  Frank looked over his shoulder to see the chaos his father had caused.

  The policemen were struggling to turn their cars round, but as they had stopped in tight formation they had blocked themselves in. The police cars bashed into each other as they attempted to give chase.

  Despite nearly dying a hundred times, the boy couldn’t help but smile. His hero of a dad had done it again.

  With Frank still clinging to the roof, the Rolls-Royce raced back into the pub car park. Dad must have been in a triumphant mood after his daring jump over the police cars, as he spun the car round backwards into its original parking space, missing the neighbouring vehicles by a centimetre.

  SCREECH!

  The Rolls-Royce came to such an abrupt halt that Frank couldn’t hold on any longer. The force of the stop meant that the boy was instantly catapulted from the roof of the car.

  He soared through the air as if he’d been shot out of a cannon, and he landed in a bush.

  “OOF!”

  RUSTLE!

  Fortunately the bush cushioned his fall and no bones were broken.

  Although Frank was dazed, he instantly picked himself up and hurried off to find somewhere safe to hide. He didn’t want his father to discover he was out late at night in his pyjamas spying on him. If so, the boy would be in BIG trouble.

  “WHAT WAS THAT?” shouted the man in the passenger seat.

  “What was what?” replied one of the men in the back.

  “THERE MUST HAVE BEEN SOMEONE ON THE ROOF OF MY MOTOR! AFTER THEM!” shouted the first man.

  The two men in the back stumbled out of the car. One was tall and wiry, the other was big and bulky.

  Frank watched from his hiding place behind a bin in the pub car park. The pair must have been feeling the worse for wear since their stunt drive, as they both looked wobbly. Their faces had turned green, and they were bent over, taking shallow breaths.

  “I SAID ‘AFTER THEM’! What are you waiting for, Fingers?”

  “I can’t, guv’nor. I think I’m going to hurl,” replied the tall, thin one.

  “YOU, THEN, THUMBS!”

  The bulky one had tears in his eyes. “I wet meself, guv’nor,” he murmured. “I can’t run in wet underpants.”

  “WHY NOT?”

  “Me mum says I’ll get a rash.”

  “YOU PAIR OF USELESS TWITS!” he shouted. “GILBERT! AFTER THEM!”

  Dad climbed out of the car. Since losing his leg, the man walked with a limp. His wooden leg always dragged behind him.

  “I am sorry, Mr Big. It’s late. I have the babysitter at home. I gotta go.”

  The little man’s eyes narrowed, and his words shot out like bullets. BAM! BAM! BAM!

  “You are not listening! There was someone on the roof of my Roller. Now the three of you find them. NOW!”

  Mr Big might not have been big, but when he snarled it was like coming face to face with a crocodile. Immediately Fingers, Thumbs and Dad all did what they were told. Thumbs waddled awkwardly, as you might well do if you’d wet your pants. The wiry Fingers jabbed Dad in the back, pushing him forward to face whatever danger was lurking in the shadows. Hiding behind the bin, Frank had nowhere to run. He leaned back into the darkness, praying he would not be seen. The three men paced nearer to him. Fingers searched the bushes, skimming the branches with his long, thin digits. Meanwhile Thumbs was huffing and puffing, getting down on his knees to look under all the cars.

  “Nothing here, guv’nor,” called out Thumbs.

  “Nor here, guv’nor,” added Fingers.

  Dad was now so near Frank that the boy could hear his father breathing. The man peered behind the bin. Squatting there was his own son, looking guilty and scared and by the ride.

  “IS ANYONE THERE?” shouted Mr Big.

  “No. No one,” replied Dad, staring his son straight in the eye. “No one at all.”

  Dad shook his head slightly. The boy took this as a signal to stay as as still and quiet as he possibly could. If he moved a muscle, they would both be in DEEP TROUBLE.

  “It must have been a bird, Mr Big,” said Dad.

  “Ruddy big bird,” muttered the little man. “Now we have to get out of here before the fuzz start sniffing around. Fingers, get the Rolls resprayed and change the number plates in case they trace it.”

  “Yes, guv’nor.”

  “Thumbs, you can drive now.”

  “Thank you, boss,” replied the bulky one.

  “I want to get home in one piece. Now pile in, all of you.”

  Dad paced back to the car with his head down, no doubt nervous about giving something away.

  “What’s going on with you?” hissed Mr Big. The crime boss was as as a knife – nothing got past him.

  “Nothing.”

  “I can trust you, can’t I?”

  “Yes, sir. Absolutely.”

  “Good. I would hate any harm to come to that boy of yours. Now get in.”

  From his hiding place, Frank heard the doors to the Rolls-Royce shut.

  The car sped off into the night.

  A feeling of deep unease descended upon the boy. His father was mixed up with some very bad people.

  Frank ran all the way back to his flat. He crouched down at the front door, and looked through the letterbox. It was dark, but he could hear Auntie Flip snoring loudly.

  So the boy quickly opened the door and darted along the corridor to his bedroom. In a hurry, Frank leaped on to his Lilo and burst it.

  CATASTROPHE!

  The noise woke up Auntie Flip, and she came charging through the door.

  “IS EVERYTHING ALL RIGHT?” she bawled. “I HEARD A ”

  Frank pretended to be asleep.

  That did not deter Auntie Flip. The lady shouted again, this time right in his ear.

  “FRANKIE?”

  Still the boy kept his eyes closed.

  Now the woman began patting him on the cheeks a bit too hard for Frank to keep pretending to be asleep.

  Now the pats became slaps.

  Just then Dad entered through the front door, and called out, “Sorry I’m so late, Auntie Flip!”

  “That’s all right,” the boy heard her say. “Frank’s been sleeping like a baby all night.”

  “Has he indeed?” Dad had a hint of surprise in his voice.

  “Oh yes. He’s been no trouble at all.”

  “Thank you. I will need you to babysit on Saturday, please.”

  “It would be a pleasure, Gilbert. I will see you then.”

  “Thank you, Auntie Flip. Goodnight.”

  Frank heard the door close, but kept pretending to be asleep. Dad was not fooled. He’d seen his son moments ago hiding behind a bin. Now they had some serious talking to d
o.

  “What on earth did you think you were doing?” demanded Dad as he kneeled on his son’s bedroom floor.

  “What on earth do you think you were doing?” replied Frank.

  Dad did not look pleased that his question had been met by a question, and he stood his ground.

  “I asked first,” said the man.

  The boy . He always when he was about to tell a lie. “I couldn’t sleep so I just popped out to get some fresh air.”

  Dad shook his head. “Nice try, mate.”

  Frank had been busted. He had to confess. “All right, Dad – I did follow you. But only because I was worried about you.”

  “Worried about me? I was worried about you! Hanging on to the roof of a speeding car! Are you nuts?”

  “It wasn’t moving when I climbed on to it,” reasoned the boy.

  That just made Dad angrier. “You could have got killed!”

  This took a moment to sink in. Frank sighed, and replied, “I know, Dad. It was stupid of me. But by the sound of it you are about to do something stupid too.”

  The man paused. He couldn’t be sure how much his son had heard. “It’s not what you think it is.”

  “I think it’s something bad.”

  “It’s just driving.”

  “It can’t be just driving. They are bad people. Please, Dad. Don’t do it.”

  Now the man had tears in his eyes. “I am trying, OK, mate? I’m trying. I’m trying to do the best for you.”

  The boy shook his head. “Dad! Whatever it is, I don’t want you to do it.”

  “But it’s just one job. That’s all. One job. Then I’ll pay off my debts and still have a bit of money left over for us.”