"Smith, Guy N - Bats Out of Hell" - читать интересную книгу автора (Smith Guy N)

'Penny and Stango all right, Dad?' she asked. Her greatest regret was that her father insisted on feeding them on his way back from the building site at Hednesford. She had tried more than once, unsuccessfully, to persuade him to come home first and pick her up. Not only would she be able to see her horses during the week then, but it would stop him from complaining that he was forced to look after them, Walter Williams would not have been happy, though, if he couldn't have a moan about something.

'All right,' he grunted. 'More or less, anyway.'

'What d'you mean, 'more or less'?' Shirley Williams demanded, alarm on her face.

'Nothin' to worry about' Her father was already wishing that he had said 'they're OK.' At least he would have been able to enjoy his evening meal in peace.

'What is it?' Shirley's voice was strained, and her eyes seemed to bore into him just like the time three years ago when old Biggy, the family's dog, had died and Walter had lied and told his daughter that the animal had gone over to stay with Uncle Bill for a while. Walter knew that he would never be able to lie to her again.

'Just bats,' he grumbled. 'Nothin' to get excited about.'

'And what have bats got to do with Penny and Stango?' she faced him, hands on hips, determined to pursue the matter to the end.

'I dunno. I guess the 'orses don't like sleepin' in a stable with bats in the rafters.'

'You mean,' Shirley demanded, stepping towards him with an angry ?lint in her eyes, 'you mean that Penny and Stango are out in the field and you left them there?'

'They won't come to no 'arm.' Walter looked to his wife for support, but she was too busy serving up the stew to concern herself with such mundane topics as bats and horses. 'Couldn't do nothin' about it,' he mumbled. 'They wouldn't come in, so I chucked the 'ay inside for 'em. More than likely they're in there now, guzzu'n' themselves ...'

'Oh, Dad!' Shirley was close to tears. 'If they're frightened of the bats, they won't go in.'

'It's a warm night. Almost like-summer. They won't 'urt.'

'I don't like them outside all night,' Shirley was beginning to shout. 'Those yobbos from the Oakdene Estate, the Pearson boys on their motor-bikes, might go up there and throw stones at them or chase them.'

'The Pearsons won't go up there. They'll be stuck down at the 'Cottage Spring', where they are most nights.'

'But anything could happen to them, Dad!' The young girl was on the verge of hysteria.

The bats've gone,' Walter said. 'They flew out when I shone the torch on 'em. Penny and Stango'll go back.'

'But we don't know. We can't be sure.'

'Come and get yer dinners,' Gladys Williams called out, having decided it was time that she intervened. 'And don't fret yerself, Shirley. Yer dad'll run yer up afterwards just to make sure.'

Walter Williams glared at his wife, opened his mouth to protest, but closed it again, and nodded. 'All right,' he muttered. Anything for peace and quiet. It would only take a quarter of an hour, and he offered up a silent prayer as he took his place at the table that Penny and Stango had come to their senses and gone back into the stable. He didn't fancy trying to round them up in the darkness. The memory of the bats returned to him, and he shivered involuntarily. Harmless, but horrible.

The horses were not in sight when Walter Williams drove back up the rutted track which led to the Wooden Stables and sat with the engine running, his headlights piercing the darkness and illuminating a section of the field and the buildings.

'Where are they?' Anxiously, Shirley was peering through the windscreen.

'Probably in the stable.' Walter told her. He did not relish going inside the buildings again. Perhaps if he could satisfy his daughter that they were not out in the field then she would be agreeable to going back home again. But in his heart he knew that he would not escape so lightly.

'They could be anywhere,' Shirley said, opening the passenger door. 'Maybe round the back of the stable. Let's go and see. We'd better check the stable first.'

'All right,' Walter sighed, groped for his torch in the glove-box, before he remembered that it was broken. The torch is smashed.'

'Leave the headlights on, then. They'll help.'