Secret Army - Robert Muchamore Page 0,39
his and he could easily read the words in the romance novel she held in her hands. Sadly, she wore a thick nightdress and was old enough that the boys preferred her to keep it on.
More interestingly, a girl sat on the bed across the room, smoking a cigarette and dressed only in a black bra and knickers. She was about the same age as the teenager they’d seen pegging up the washing earlier, and although she was unlikely to win any beauty contests she was still an illicit thrill for three lads who’d only managed a couple of snogs between them.
‘Come on, baby,’ Luc whispered. ‘I have the power to control your mind! You will turn around slightly and take off your bra so that we can see your sweet, sweet boobies.’
Joel laughed, but Marc shushed him because the woman’s head was so close. A taller girl in knickers and the top half of her WAAF uniform strolled across and asked the smoker for a cigarette.
The boys got a good view of her bum as she bent over to get a light.
‘I want the tall one,’ Marc smiled. ‘She’s got nice ankles.’
‘Ankles,’ Luc scoffed. ‘Who gives a darn about ankles?’
As he said this, a shout came up from behind. ‘Oi! What are you playing at?’
Marc jumped with fright, and in doing so smacked his head on the window frame.
The woman reading the paperback looked around and screamed out, ‘Peeping bloody Tom!’
Luc swore as he saw an RAF policeman with a huge black-and-gold Alsatian. The dog made its introduction with three huge barks.
‘This isn’t good,’ Joel said, as Marc started legging it across the grass.
‘Halt!’ the policeman shouted. ‘Stop now, or I’ll release the dog!’
Joel had done enough training exercises to know that he could run faster than Luc. He figured that the dog would sink its teeth into whatever butt it encountered first and decided to run.
The Alsatian panted with excitement as the policeman let it off its leash. Marc had scrambled around the hut and was running away at full pelt, but as Joel turned the corner a broom handle smashed into his knees and sent him sprawling face first into the dewy grass.
He rolled on to his back in time to receive a second swipe from the broom. The two girls who’d been smoking loomed over him dressed in bathrobes. The shorter one brandished the broom, while the tall one stood with her hands on her hips. Marc had been right: her ankles looked even better from close up.
‘Grubby little urchin!’ the short one said in a Birmingham accent, as she gave Joel another whack with the broom. ‘You come round here again I’ll chop your bloody bits off.’
The taller girl pushed her away and spoke with a Scottish accent. ‘He’s just a curious wee lad,’ she said. ‘Now get up and piss off back to your hut before she gives you another clump.’
The grass was covered with frozen dew. Joel was soaking wet and shuddered as he stood up.
‘Sorry,’ he said meekly. ‘It wasn’t my idea.’
He looked anxiously for any sign of the RAF policeman or the Alsatian before setting off back towards the hut at a jog. After ten paces he heard Luc screaming from somewhere out near the runway.
‘AAAAARGH, Jesus Christ. My arm! My arm! Somebody get this thing off me!’
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
PT woke up before six and took a wrapped package out of the suitcase under his bed. He crept across the planked floor and set the gift on the corner of Rosie’s pillow, but her left eye opened suspiciously as he backed away.
‘Oh,’ she said. Then she yawned, cracked a broad smile and propped herself up on one elbow.
‘I didn’t mean to wake you,’ PT whispered. ‘Sorry.’
Rosie picked the rectangular gift from her pillow and tore off the brown paper. It was a notebook bound in purple cloth. She opened the cover and saw that Paul had elaborately lettered Happy Fourteenth Birthday, and everyone from campus had written their names around it.
‘It’s beautiful!’ Rosie said emotionally, as she leaned forwards to give PT a kiss.
PT shrugged modestly. ‘Paul did all the hard work, though I did find the notebook on that stall when we went into town.’
‘He’s so talented,’ Rosie said. ‘When I draw nothing ever looks like it’s supposed to.’
‘Same here,’ PT said.
Rosie sat up straight. PT perched himself on the narrow bed and Rosie experienced an odd jumble of emotions as she gave him a kiss.
One year earlier Rosie had been