Catherine Jinks TheRoad (44 page)

‘Well then, if we’re going to sit here talking, could we maybe have a bite to eat?’ Linda was speaking to the whole group. ‘Just for the kids, I mean. They haven’t eaten since lunchtime, and the poor things are starving, so if you have a bit to spare, Verlie, I’d be
very
grateful.’

‘Oh, of course!’ Verlie exclaimed, displeased with herself for not thinking to offer a meal sooner. ‘Of course, they must be terribly hungry, it’s just spaghetti bolognaise, but I can easily stretch the sauce and cook up some more pasta. And we’ve got biscuits and fruit . . .’

There was a shifting of bodies in the back seat, and a childish murmur of approval. It was Del, however, who responded.

‘I dunno,’ she drawled. ‘I dunno if we should stop.’

‘We’re stopped now,’ Linda pointed out. ‘It won’t take a minute.’

‘Yeah, but who knows what might be comin up behind? We’re sittin ducks, out here.’

‘Sitting ducks?’ said Ross. He sounded impatient. ‘What the hell are you talking about?’

‘Listen.’ Noel raised his hand, speaking calmly, firmly, clearly. ‘Linda, why don’t you and the kids go very quickly with Mrs Harwood and get something to eat, while Del and Alec and I give Mr Harwood a run-down of what’s happened. You might like to join us yourself, in a minute – you ought to hear the details.’

‘Okay.’ Linda nodded. ‘All right.’

‘Is that fine with you, Del?’

An explosive sigh from the driver’s seat. ‘Yeah, I s’pose so.’

‘Quick, then. Peter? Off you go. You too, Louise.’

The children tumbled out of the station wagon, staggering as their feet hit the ground. Even in the dimness, Verlie could see that their clothes were crushed, their hair was ruffled and their skin was damp. Linda exited through the door on the other side of the vehicle, still clutching her youngest daughter in her arms. The little one, Verlie saw, was half asleep, her head cradled against her mother’s shoulder.

Verlie clicked her tongue.

‘Come this way,’ she said. ‘You can all sit at the table in the caravan. Have you been in a caravan before?’

‘No,’ the boy replied. ‘Do you think – could we have a drink, please?’

‘Yes, of course. I’ve got orange juice or cocoa ...water . . . whatever you like.’

Even with so much to take in and process, Verlie had realised that the children were being protected from something – from something that had occurred to Alec, perhaps. His tough time, perhaps? No one was going to talk about it while the kids were around, so they had to be dispatched. This realisation made her uneasy, but she couldn’t spare the mystery much thought because she had three hungry children on her hands, and a limited store of perishables. Inviting her groggy-eyed guests into the caravan, she dragged three large plates from a high cupboard, asking Linda if she would be kind enough to drain the spaghetti into the colander, but not let the water run down the plughole. Working at top speed, Verlie dished out salad and dressing. She opened a tin of asparagus and distributed handfuls of Jatz biscuits. She found some sultanas.

‘Now you eat up quickly,’ she instructed, after sauce had been slapped on each serving of spaghetti, ‘and you can have a piece of chocolate for dessert. If that’s all right with Mum?’

‘That’s fine,’ Linda said. ‘Verlie, I can’t thank you enough –’

‘No, no. Really. It’s my pleasure.’