Secret of The Red Planet

by Chris Hawley

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  RESCUE

  In that dark little cupboard under the stairs of No. 43 Myrtle Road, minute followed minute, hour followed hour and I sat on that box in agony. My shoulders ached, my back ached, my wrists ached, my head ached, my whole body was wracked with pain. In the darkness it was hard to keep track of time. I had left home at lunchtime, gone to the library and then straight to Sonia’s house. I guessed it was about 3 o’clock when Albert Smith had discovered my hiding place. He had long since gone out. It must now be evening. What was my mother thinking? I had told her I would be home by 4 pm. She must be worried. Ben knows I came here, I remembered, and that gave me some hope.

  At that moment I heard the front door slam and I guessed that Albert Smith had come home from work. Newspaper men often work late hours. It could be any time of the night. I expected him to open the door any moment but the next thing I heard were his heavy footsteps stumping up the stairs over my head. After that there were some noises from above and then everything was quiet. Albert Smith had retired for the night.

  That night was the longest I had ever spent. I was dying to empty my bladder but had no idea how I was going to achieve it so I just put it off. I thought about Pietersen and wondered if he made the century that would earn me four pounds. I thought of Sonia in Canada and how she must be feeling. But most of all I thought of Michu. I tried hard to make contact with her. I knew that she must know that I was in trouble and I hoped something miraculous would happen. I tried to sleep and I suppose I must have dosed off now and again, but sleep is hard when pain invades your whole body.

  Finally I heard the familiar sound of Albert Smith’s shoes on the stairs and a few seconds later the door opened and his face appeared. The light almost blinded me and I closed my eyes.

  ‘I hope you had a good night’s sleep,’ he said sarcastically.

  I kept quiet.

  ‘You’ll want to go to the bathroom,’ he said, taking hold of my arm and pulling me out of the cupboard. He untied the wire and I let my hands hang down in front of me. I looked down at them. They were blue from lack of oxygen and they hurt dreadfully.

  ‘Go in there. I have to go to work and you’re going back in there,’ he said, indicating the cupboard which had been my prison since the day before.

  I went to the toilet. The relief was wonderful but I hardly knew how to use my hands. I washed them and also my face and took a drink of water directly from the tap. He rapped on the door and called out, telling me to get out quickly. I came out.

  ‘Back in there,’ he ordered.

  ‘How long are you going to keep me here with no food and no water?’

  ‘That depends on you. When you want to talk, I‘m here to listen: the sooner the better.’

  I said nothing as he retied the wire around my wrists. He must have felt guilty seeing my swollen wrists because he was careful not to tie them so tightly. Finally, he pushed me back into the cupboard and shut the door with a bang. Soon after that I heard the front door close noisily and then silence.

  The hours passed, I had no idea how many. I was desperately hungry and thirsty and my body ached all over. But I was determined not to give him my story, however long he kept me locked up.

  All at once I heard a noise in the hallway, the sound of voices speaking in whispers.

  I called out, ‘hello, is anyone there?’

  Then I heard a voice right outside the door.

  ‘He’s in here!’ It was Tim’s voice. ‘Bill, is that you in there?’

  ‘Tim, I’m here, in the cupboard!’ I shouted. I had never been so happy to hear his voice.

  ‘Wait! We’ll soon get you out of there!’ he called.

  About a minute passed and then I heard Ben’s voice. ‘Okay, we have a screw-driver. Now let’s get this door open.’

  There were then some scratching sounds, some arguing about the best way of tackling the job, some splintering of wood and at last the door flew open, letting in the bright light of day. I put my hands over my eyes.

  ‘Are you alright Bill?’ asked Ben.

  ‘Fine, apart from a sore face, hands that I can’t feel, wrists that are just about cut open and a body that’s black and blue, otherwise I’m in perfect health.’

  ‘How long have you been in there?’ asked Tim, untying the wire.

  ‘About 24 hours, I should think, but it seems more like a week. I’ve been here since we talked yesterday afternoon. What a good thing you phoned and I was able to tell you I was here,’ I said, shaking my head.

  ‘Otherwise we would never have guessed,’ said Ben.

  ‘And my mother?’ I asked.

  ‘Don’t worry about your parents. We went round to your house in the evening and told them you were staying the night with us.’

  ‘That was a cool idea,’ I said, gratefully.

  ‘Look you two,’ said Tim. ‘We have to get out of here fast, in case your friend comes back.’

  ‘Friend! He’s no friend of mine, more like my worst enemy.’

  On the way out of the kitchen I noticed the glass in the door had been broken.

  ‘We had to do it, there was no window open,’ Tim explained.

  ‘I’d love to see Albert Smith’s face when he comes home and sees the damage you’ve done to his house,’ I said laughing.

  ‘Nothing compared to the damage I’ll do to him if I get my hands on him,’ said Tim.

  ‘Careful, Tim, he’s a big man and strong,’ I said, as we shut the wooden side door and went out into the street. Suddenly I remembered the things he had taken from me. I put my hand through the hole in the kitchen door and reentered the kitchen. I went quickly back up the stairs and into his bedroom. The things were still there where he had put them the day before. I put them into my pockets and rejoined the boys.

  We went straight home to their house in Lilac Avenue. There they made me sit in a comfortable chair with my feet up and Mrs. Armstrong made tea and pancakes for us. I had never tasted anything so good in my entire life. I recounted the events of Thursday, including the news about Sonia being sent off to Canada.

  I then remembered the Test Match. In the excitement I had completely forgotten to ask about Pietersen.

  ‘Oh! By the way, did KP get his ton?

  Both boys laughed and looked at each other.

  ‘Well, did he?’

  ‘He was on 98,’ explained Tim. ‘Kumble bowled and Pietersen came down the wicket. We could see that one going for six. But he can’t quite have got hold of it in the middle, because the ball fell short of the boundary.’ Tim paused.

  ‘So it was a four, not a six!’ I was relieved.

  ‘No, it dropped straight into the hands of long off. He was caught out.’

  I stared at the boys. It never occurred to me that Pietersen would not reach his hundred. There was my four pounds gone and Sonia’s box of chocolates too.

  ‘Ben has already paid me his two quid,’ said Tim, holding out his hand towards me.

  ‘You’ll have to wait till Sunday when I get my pocket money,’ I said.

  ‘No problem.’

  Never count your chickens before they’ve hatched was a favourite saying of my mother. I guess I learnt something that day.