Free One Of Our Dinosaurs Is Missing by David Forrest Page A

for a moment. “One careful operator... a doctor.”
    Emily’s brows furrowed. “Then the gentleman must have been a witch doctor. It looks as though it was driven here from darkest Africa. How about that one?” She nodded toward a deep blue Chevrolet that looked like a furniture removal van. It had a split and dented fender but otherwise seemed fairly clean. “How much?”
    “Three hundred dollars, lady,” said the salesman. “Best truck in the lot. Perfect working condition. It’s a steal. Broke the guy’s heart to get rid of it. He owned a pet shop. Only used it to carry animals and birds. Came in yesterday.”
    “Start the motor,” said Emily, sternly.
    The salesman reached in and twisted the key. To his relief, the batteries spun the engine to life. He stepped back.
    “First-rate,” he said. “Good starter, excellent runner.” He looked at the two women. “It carries our usual seven-day guarantee.”
    “We’ll take it,” said Hettie. “Show our friend here how it works.
    “How it works?” asked the salesman.
    “Yes. How does it start? And which is the gear lever?”
    “You sure you ladies want a truck?”
    “We’ll pay cash,” said Hettie.
    “How’s that?”
    “Cash, man, cash!” repeated Hettie, opening her handbag. She pulled out a roll of notes. The salesman bit his lip. He couldn’t remember the last customer of Happy Harry’s who’d even had fifty dollars in bills.
    “You’ll never regret buying this truck, ladies. I’ll take you round the block, personally. Make sure you know how it handles.”
    Minutes later, the truck was back outside Happy Harry’s Lot. Emily sat at the huge wheel, joyfully revving the engine, while inside the shack-like office, the salesman was collecting three hundred dollars from Hettie and handing her the vehicle documents in exchange.
    The deal completed, they emerged together through the door.
    “Well, good luck, ladies,” called the salesman, as Hettie settled herself next to Emily. “Don’t forget what I told you--keep her on a tight leash. She’s a mile- eater, that one.” He grinned as the old nanny trod down on the clutch pedal and crashed into gear. The wheels hopped. Then the truck bounded away.
    “We’re a wee bittie nervous,” confessed Hettie.
    “Nervous? Nervous? Nonsense, woman. I’m perfectly competent at driving, now.”
    “Not about the driving, the bairns.” Hettie shuffled herself more comfortably on the passenger seat. “We’re just nervous leaving them with Melissa and Susanne. We dinnae feel they’ve got enough experience to manage so many.”
    “They will have by the end of the week,” promised Emily. “We’re all going to have to share each other’s children. What better way could they learn?”
    “That reminds us,” said Hettie. “Last night we had an odd telephone call. A strange voice--very deep for a woman’s. Said they were the Comrade Nanny-Ladies’ Replacement Bureau. It’s some service we haven’t heard of before. Charitable ... doesn’t cost anything. Whenever a nanny needs extra time off, they send a specially-trained nurse as replacement. They said days or nights, for as long as necessary. And it’s free.”
    “Thoroughly untrustworthy, I should think,” said Emily.
    “Och, of course,” nodded Hettie. “As if we’d leave a child of ours with strangers.”
    Emily was enjoying herself. The truck was big and powerful. She liked sitting high above the other traffic, and she began to understand how bus and lorry drivers felt, on their thrones, when they leant out of their cabs and cursed and swore at the other road users.
    She glanced at the speedometer. It showed eighteen miles an hour. The transmission was howling for a gear-change. But by the time she’d remembered the correct procedure, had pressed down the clutch pedal and sought the second gear position, the truck’s speed had fallen to five miles an hour. Then it jerked, and stalled.
    “Why have we stopped?” asked