Five Fall Into Adventure (9 page)

- but even she was too late ta catch the milkman. She scurried downstairs at half-past seven, an hour later than usual, tying up her apron as she went.

‘Half-past seven - what a time to wake up!’ she muttered, as she began to do the kitchen fire. She thought of all the happenings of the night before - the queer evening with young Sid, Dick’s capture of Jo - and Jo’s extraordinary tale. She had had a look at Jo before she went down, half expecting that lively young rogue to have disappeared in the night.

But Jo was curled up like a kitten, her brown cheek on her brown paw, her hair, unusually bright and tidy, falling over her tightly-shut eyes. She didn’t even stir when Joan scurried about the bedroom, washing and dressing.

The others were fast asleep, too. Julian woke first, but not till eight o’clock. He remembered immediately all that had happened, and jumped out of bed at once.

He went to Joan’s room. He could hear Joan downstairs talking to herself as usual. He peeped round the open door of her bedroom. Thank goodness - Jo was still there.

He went and shook her gently. She wriggled away, turned over and buried her face in the pillow. Julian shook her more vigorously. He meant to get her up and make her take them to where George was as soon as possible!

Most miraculously everyone was down at half-past eight, eating porridge and looking rather subdued. Jo had hers in the kitchen, and the others could hear Joan scolding her for her manners.

‘Have you got to stuff yourself like that, as if the dog’s going to come and lick your plate before you’ve finished? And who told you to stick your fingers into the syrup and lick them? I’ve eyes in the back of my head, so just you be careful what you’re doing!’

Jo liked Joan. She knew where she was with her. If she kept on Joan’s right side and did what she was told, Joan would feed her well and not interfere too much - but if she didn’t, then she could expect something else she understood very well indeed -

scoldings and a sharp slap. Joan was good-hearted but impatient, and no child was ever afraid of her. Jo followed her about like a little dog when she had finished her breakfast.

Julian came out into the kitchen at nine o’clock. ‘Where’s Jo?’ he said. ‘Oh, there you are. Now, what about taking us to where you father’s caravan is? You’re sure you know the way?’

Jo laughed scornfully. ‘Course I do! I know everywhere round here for miles.’

‘Right,’ said Julian, and he produced a map, which he spread out on the kitchen table.

He put a finger on one spot. ‘That’s Kirrin,’ he said. ‘And here’s a place called Ravens Wood. Is that the place you mean? How do you propose to get there - by this road, or that one?’

Jo looked at the map. It meant nothing to her at all. She gazed vaguely at the spot that Julian had pointed to.

‘Well?’ said Julian, impatiently. ‘Is that the Ravens Wood you mean?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Jo, helplessly. ‘The one I mean is a real wood - I don’t know anything about yours on this map.’

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Joan gave a little snort. ‘Master Julian, maps are wasted on her. I don’t expect she’s ever seen one in her life! She can’t even read!’

‘Can’t she?’ said Julian, amazed. ‘Then she can’t write either.’ He looked questioningly at Jo.

She shook her head. ‘Mum tried to learn me to read,’ she said, ‘but Mum wasn’t very good herself. What’s the good of reading, anyway? Won’t help you to trap rabbits or catch fish for your dinner, will it?’

‘No. It’s used for other things,’ said Julian, amused. ‘Well - maps are no good to you, I can see.’ He rolled his map up, looking thoughtful. It was very difficult to know exactly how to deal with a person like Jo, who knew so little of some things and so much of others.

‘She’ll know the way all right,’ said Joan, scraping out a saucepan. ‘They’re like dogs, these folk - they can smell out any road they want.’

‘Do you smell out your way like a dog?’ asked Anne, curiously. She had come in to see what was going on, and was quite willing to believe that Jo really could smell her way here and there, as Timmy did.

‘No, I don’t,’ said Jo. ‘I just know the way I have to go. And I don’t go by the roads, either! They take too long to get to a place. I take the shortest way, see?’

‘How do you know it’s the shortest way?’ asked Anne.

Jo shrugged her thin shoulders. All this was very boring to her.

‘Where’s that other boy?’ she said. ‘Isn’t he coming? I want to see him.’

‘She’s just crazy on Dick,’ said Joan, taking up another saucepan. ‘Here he is - now you can go and lick his boots if you want to, young Jo!’

‘Hallo, Jo!’ said Dick, with one of his amiable grins. ‘Ready to take us travelling?’

‘Better go at night,’ said Jo, staring at Dick.

‘Oh, no!’ said Dick. ‘We’re going now. We’re not going to be put off like that. Now, Jo, now!’

‘If my Dad sees us coming he’ll be mad,’ said Jo obstinately.

‘Very well,’ said Dick, looking at Julian. ‘We’ll go by ourselves. We’ve found Ravens Wood on the map. We can easily get there.’

‘Pooh,’ said Jo, rudely. ‘You can get there all right - but it’s a big place, Ravens Wood is

- and nobody but me and Dad knows where we hide the caravan there. And if Dad wants to keep George quite safe, he’ll take her to our hidey-hole in the middle of the wood, see? You can’t go without me.’

‘Right. Then we’ll get the police to take us,’ said Julian, quite cheerfully. ‘They will help us to comb the wood from end to end. We’ll soon find George.’

‘No!’ cried Jo, in alarm. ‘You said you wouldn’t! You promised!’

‘You made a promise too,’ said Julian. ‘It was a bargain. But I see you’re not really to be trusted. I’ll just get on my bike and ride down to the police-station.’

But before he could go out of the room Jo flung herself on him and clung to his arm like a cat. ‘No, no! I’ll take you. I’ll keep my promise! But it would be best to go at night!’

‘I’m not putting things off any more,’ said Julian, shaking Jo off his arm. ‘If you mean what you say, you’ll come with us now. Make up your mind.’

‘I’ll come,’ said Jo.

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‘Hadn’t we better give her another pair of shorts or something?’ said Anne, suddenly seeing a tremendous hole in Jo’s grubby shorts. ‘She can’t go out like that. And look at her awful jersey. It’s full of holes.’

The boys looked at it. ‘She’d smell a bit better if she had clean clothes,’ said Joan.

‘There’s that old pair of shorts I washed for George last week, and mended up. Jo could have those. And there’s an old shirt of hers she could have, too.’

In five minutes’ time Jo was proudly wearing a pair of perfectly clean, much-mended shorts of George’s, and a shirt like the one Anne had on. Anne looked at her and laughed.

‘Now she’s more like George than ever! They might be sisters.’

‘Brothers, you mean,’ said Dick. ‘George and Jo - what a pair!’

Jo scowled. She didn’t like George, and she didn’t want to look like her.

‘She’s even got George’s scowl!’ said Anne. Jo turned her back at once, and Joan then got the benefit of the scowl.

‘My word, what an ugly creature you are!’ said Joan. ‘You be careful the wind doesn’t change - you might get your face stuck like that!’

‘Oh, come on,’ said Julian, impatiently. ‘Jo! Do you hear me? Come along now and take us to Ravens Wood.’

‘Jake might see us,’ said Jo, sulkily. She was determined to put off going as long as she could.

‘Yes, he might,’ said Julian, who hadn’t thought of that. ‘Well - you go on a long way ahead, and we’ll follow. We won’t let Jake know you’re leading us anywhere.’

At last they set off. Joan had packed them up a meal in case they wanted one. Julian slipped the package into a bag and slid it over his shoulder.

Jo slipped out the back way, went down to the bottom of the garden and made her way out to the lane through a little thicket. The others went out of the front gate and walked up the lane slowly, watching for Jo to appear.

‘There she is,’ said Julian. ‘Come on. We must keep the little wretch in sight. I wouldn’t be surprised if she gave us the slip even now!’

Jo danced on in front, a good way ahead. She took no notice of the others behind, and they followed steadily.

Then suddenly something happened. A dark figure strode out from the hedge, stood in front of Jo, and said something to her. She screamed and tried to dodge away. But the man caught hold of her and firmly pulled her into the hedge.

‘It was Jake!’ said Dick. ‘I’m sure it was Jake. He was watching out for her. Now what do we do?’

They all hurried up to the place where Jake had caught hold of Jo. There was absolutely nothing to be seen except a few broken twigs in the hedge there. No Jake, no Jo. There

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was not a sound to be heard, either. Not a scream from Jo, not a shout from Jake. It was as if both had faded into the hedge and disappeared.

Dick squeezed through the hedge and into the field beyond. Nobody was there either, except a few cows who looked at him in surprise, their tails whisking.

‘There’s a little copse at the end of the field,’ called back Dick. ‘I bet they’re there. I’ll go and see.’

He ran across the field to the copse. But there was nobody there either. Beyond the copse was a row of huddled-up cottages. Dick looked along the untidy row, exasperated.

‘I suppose Jake’s taken her to one of those,’ he thought, angrily. ‘Probably lives there!

Well, he won’t let her go, that’s certain. He most likely guesses that she’s in with us now.

Poor Jo!’

He went back to the others and they had a low-voiced conference in the lane. ‘Let’s tell the police now,’ begged Anne.

‘No. Let’s go to Ravens Wood ourselves,’ said Dick. ‘We know where it is. We wouldn’t be able to go the way Jo would have taken us - but at least we can go by the map.’

‘Yes. I think we will,’ said Julian. ‘Come on, then. Quick march!’

They went on up the lane, took a field path and came out eventually on to a road. A bus passed them in the opposite direction to which they were going.

‘When we come to a bus stop we’ll find out if one goes anywhere near Raven’s Wood,’

said Julian. ‘It would save a lot of time if we caught a bus.' We’d be there long before Jake, if he thinks of going to warn Jo’s father we’re on the way! I bet Jo will tell him. You might as well trust a snake as that slippery little thing.’

‘I hate Jo!’ said Anne, almost in tears. ‘I don’t trust her a bit. Do you, Dick?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Dick. ‘I can’t make up my mind. She hasn’t really proved whether she’s trustable or not yet. Anyway, she came back to tell us all she knew last night, didn’t she?’

‘I don’t believe she did come back for that,’ said Anne obstinately. ‘I believe she was coming back to pry and snoop.’

‘You may be right,’ said Dick. ‘Look, here’s a bus-stop - and a time-table!’

A bus did apparently go quite near Ravens Wood, and was due in five minutes’ time.

They sat down on the bus-stop seat and waited. The bus was punctual and came rumbling down the road, full of women going to Ravens Market. They all seemed very plump women and had enormous baskets, so it was difficult to squeeze inside.

Everyone got out at Ravens Market. Julian asked his way to Ravens Wood. ‘There it is,’

said the conductor, pointing down the hill to where trees grew thickly in the valley. ‘It’s a big place. Don’t get lost! And look out for the gipsies. There’s usually hordes of them there!’

‘Thanks,’ said Julian, and the three of them set off down the hill into the valley. They came to the wood.

‘It’s a proper wood,’ said Anne. ‘Nothing but trees and trees. I should think it gets very thick in the middle - like a forest.’

They came to a clearing where there was a little gipsy camp. Three rather dirty-looking caravans stood together, and a crowd of brown gipsy children were playing some sort of a game with a rope. Julian took a quick look at the caravans. All had their doors open.

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‘No George here,’ he said in a low voice to the others. ‘I wish I knew exactly where to go! I suppose if we follow this broad pathway it would be best. After all, Jo’s caravan must have a fairly broad way to go on.’

‘Can’t we ask if anyone knows if Jo’s caravan is anywhere about?’ said Anne.

‘We don’t know her father’s name,’ said Julian.

‘But we could say it’s a caravan drawn by a horse called Blackie, and that a girl called Jo lives in it with her father,’ said Anne.

‘Yes. I’d forgotten the horse,’ said Julian. He went up to an old woman who was stirring something in a black pot over a fire of sticks. Julian thought she looked very like a witch.

She peered up at him through tangled grey hair.

‘Can you tell me if there’s a caravan in the wood drawn by a horse called Blackie?’ he asked politely. ‘A girl called Jo lives in it with her father. We want to see her.’

The old woman blinked. She took an iron spoon out of the pot and waved it to the right.

‘Simmy’s gone down-away there,’ she said. ‘I never saw Jo this time - but the caravan door was shut so maybe she was inside. What you want with Jo?’

‘Oh - only just to see her,’ said Julian, quite unable to think up a good reason for going to visit a gipsy-child on the spur of the moment. ‘Is Simmy her father?’

The old woman nodded and began to stir her pot again. Julian went back to the others.

‘This way,’ he said, and they went down the rutted path. It was just wide enough for a caravan to go down. Anne looked up. Tree branches waved overhead.

‘I should think they brush against the roof of a caravan all the time,’ she said. ‘What a queer life to live - in a little caravan day in and day out, hiding yourself away in woods and fields!’

They walked on down the path, which wound about through the trees, following the clear spaces. Sometimes the trees were so close together that it seemed impossible for a caravan to go between. But the wheel-ruts showed that caravans did go down the path.