Free The Runaway Summer by Nina Bawden

thought. She said, to his sullen profile, ‘Why did you? I mean, after all you said about sending people back where they came from. It was the law, you said.’
    He got up quickly, as if he didn’t want to answer her question, and went into the hut. He said, ‘Well, for crying out loud! His Nibs is asleep!’
    The boy was curled up in the small space behind the door, his head dangling loose on his frail neck, like a heavy flower. He was snoring a little.
    Simon said, rather uncomfortably, ‘It’s different with someone you’ve seen .’ He looked at her for a minute, and then began to grin. ‘Besides, I suddenly thought what we could do with him!’
    They sat on the steps. He couldn’t stay here, Simon explained, because the police kept an eye on the huts. Tramps often broke in and slept in them.
    â€˜So I thought of my Uncle Horace’s shop,’ Simon said. ‘He’s not there and it’s locked up, but I know a way in. We can take him after dark. After supper.’
    â€˜I have to go to bed after supper,’ Mary said.
    Simon looked amused. ‘You can get out though, can’t you? You’ll have to come, you’ve made friends with him.’
    â€˜He speaks English,’ Mary said. She had forgotten this. ‘Just before you came back, he talked to me. And you were wrong about Pakistan! He comes from Africa—from Kenya. His name’s Krishna Patel.’
    From the hut behind came a small, creaky groan, as if Krishna had heard his name spoken in a dream. They went inside and he was stirring, rubbing his eyes.
    â€˜Shut the door,’ Simon said, and Mary pulled it to, so that only a little light came in, through the cracks.
    The boy lurched to his feet and tottered, moaning.
    â€˜Cramp,’ Simon said. He rubbed the boy’s legs with his knuckles. ‘Stamp your feet. It’ll bring the blood back.’ But the boy was too sleepy. He stood, swaying and yawning.
    â€˜Let him lie down,’ Mary said. There were bathing towels on the hook: they smelt musty, but they were better than nothing. She spread them on the floor and put Krishna down. He curled up, thumb in mouth, like a baby.
    â€˜Out for the count,’ Simon said. He knelt, and spoke in his ear. ‘We’re going to lock you in. But we’re coming back. If you wake up, just wait. No noise!’
    â€˜You don’t have to shout at him,’ Mary said. She touched his cheek and he opened his eyes and looked at her. ‘Why didn’t you tell us you spoke English?’ He took his thumb out of his mouth. ‘I was afraid,’ he said.
    *
    Mary was a bit afraid, too. It was all very well for Simon to talk so calmly about getting out after dark: he didn’t know Aunt Alice who prowled the house at night, bolting doors and windows against burglars, and who always came into Mary’s room, last thing, to see she was safe in bed. It would be easier to escape an armed guard than Aunt Alice’s vigilant eye! ‘She’s afraid I’ll run away and tell someone about the way shetreats me,’ Mary said, eating her supper by herself in front of the television, because by the time she had got home, Grandfather and Aunt Alice had finished theirs, and Aunt Alice had been putting on her coat to come and look for her.
    Mary had explained that she had been playing with her new friends and forgotten the time, and Aunt Alice had said, ‘Don’t your friends have homes to go to?’ She was only cross because she had been worried, but remembering it now, Mary scowled at the television and said to herself, ‘She doesn’t want me to have friends because she’s afraid I’ll tell them about her. She’d really like to keep me locked in my room, but she doesn’t dare, because the woman who comes in to clean might think it funny …’
    Coming in just then, Aunt Alice saw Mary’s scowl and said nervously,