He thought kids were a nuisance, running in and out and making a din.
Most of the time he sat reading his paper, waiting to drive to the next stop, but known occasionally to help old ladies up or down the steps. Mrs Carter usually sat behind the counter every Saturday, while Harry drove the bus.
By the door there was a small wooden counter for the librarian, with her boxes of library cards and date stamp. The old council colours maroon and cream had been resprayed sky blue and most of the seats ripped out to make way for bookshelves from floor to ceiling. The engine was reconditioned but still noisy, with a plume of blue smoke billowing out from the exhaust. The library bus was an old scheduled bus that had done duty for many years on a country run, long since withdrawn. He wanted to be first at the library bus, beating Phil to it, so he dodged through the estate, cycling on the pavement, cutting corners and getting hooted at by the occasional car. Jack speeded off down the alley, wobbling as he slung his satchel over his shoulder, almost hitting the dust bins waiting to be emptied. “I don´t know where he gets it from at all” said Mum, as Jack disappeared down the back alley.Ī deep breath from behind the paper was Dad´s only response, more than she usually got. Jack used his foot to trap the dog in the corner by the back door and slipped out, leaving it to bark his head off.ĭad sighed and went back to his racing paper.
The dog started barking, expecting a long walk chasing rabbits across the fields. He was already on his way, grabbed his satchel and ran for the back door. After two minutes he announced “time’s up, off you go and be careful on that bike.” Dad leaned against the kitchen doorpost, eye on the silver watch which he wore at home. “But, I´ll be late for the libr’y bus” said Jack groaning, but to no avail. “Hold yer horses lad, do your teeth first“ said Dad. “Libr’y bus with Phil” said Jack between mouthfulls of toast. Forgotten have we?” said Dad when he saw Jack gulping down his breakfast. “What´s happening here then? Up with the lark. “Just make sure we don’t miss the footie.” “Libr’y bus comes Sat’day mornin’ an’ stops down Chester Street.” “I found out ‘cos Mum knows the driver”, he shouted, puffing. Mum would never let me go.” said Phil on their way home.įriday, when Jack was on his way to school, Phil came running, late as usual. “Choose a book, read it and bring it to school next week and tell the class what it is about.” “There´s none here in our village” added Jack. “It’s a place where you can borrow books to read” explained Mr Barber. “Now listen closely, “said Mr Barber: “I want both of you to go to the library and choose a book to read at home.” “My Dad says reading is bad for your eyes.” “Couldn´t decide which book to choose, Sir.”
Mr Barber asked them to stay behind after class. “He’ll forget ‘bout it come next week“ said Phil as they ran off to the park to throw stones at the ducks.Ĭome Monday they had nothing to show. “What’s he mean, favourite book?” wondered Jack. “No way!” said Phil on their way home after school. First day there he gave them homework: “Write a short essay on your favourite book and why you like it, to be handed in next Monday.” After the summer break they got a new teacher, Mr Barber. Jack and Phil were nine years old and were in the same class at school.