‘If we have an early breakfast we could be on our way by seven thirty’, he said to Smithy who had now sat bolt upright with his eyes still closed.
‘Right’, blurted Smithy as he swung himself over the side of his bed with a great deal of forced effort still with his eyes closed. ‘I’m coming, I’m coming’.
Smithy was well trained in dressing with his eyes shut, as he practised every day of the week. He even on some days managed to eat his breakfast in the dark of near sleep bliss. He fumbled for his clothes and slowly put them on.
‘I think your jumper goes on the other way round’, said Tommy as he watched his mate wandering around like a blind man.
Finally they were both ready for breakfast and made their way to the kitchen where Smithy’s Dad, still in his dressing gown, was filling up the kettle while yawning.
‘My, you two are up early’, he said.
‘We’re going fishing’, replied Smithy.
‘Not until your mothers up and you’ve got a good breakfast inside you your not’, said Smithy’s Dad.
Just then his mother entered the room.
‘You two are keen this morning’, she said. ‘We normally have to push you out of the house at ten to go fishing on one of your early trips, so what’s so special today then’, she asked.
‘Oh, we have a bet on with Trevor Green that we can catch more fish than him, so we’re making an early start so we can be sure to win’, Smithy said in his best lying voice.
‘A fishing contest’, said his Dad. ‘I may join you later on for a bit of fun. I’ll be able to advise you so that you can win’, he added. ‘I was quite a fisherman in my younger days you know’.
The look of panic shot over Smithy’s face as his brain fumbled for a reply.
‘No, No you can’t. We agreed that no parents or another relative should be involved. It must be fair and square. Even if you only stood there would be enough to loose us the competition’, Smithy pleaded.
‘OK’, said his Dad. ‘You don’t realise the experience you have just passed over. I’ll watch the football instead’.
Both Smithy and Tommy gave a low relieved sigh at how near they had come to disaster as they moved to seat themselves around the table for breakfast. Smithy’s Mum handed them their choice of cereals and they munched their way through two bowls full while Smithy’s Mum prepared their packed lunches and placed them in the holdall that stood in the hallway with the remainder of their kit. By seven thirty they had finished breakfast and had prepared themselves for leaving.
As they were having breakfast Smithy’s cat ‘Tiger’ had decided it was safe to return home and came creeping in through the cat flap. As it did so Smithy’s Dad opened the kitchen door sending the poor cat into a panic. Within an instant it dived head first into the open holdall that contained the boys lunch without being noticed by anyone. In the darkness the cat curled itself up and fell fast a sleep.
‘Here you are’, said Smithy’s Mum handing the mobile phone to her cheeky looking son. ‘Now don’t you forget, call me every two hours or I’ll send your Dad to fetch you, even if it means you loosing your competition’. She walked out into the hall and tucked the phone safely in Smithy’s holdall which contained their lunch and the sleeping cat, without even disturbing it.
‘Now don’t loose it’, she said as she kissed Smithy on the cheek which made him blush a bright red.
‘Don’t worry’, Smithy said as they made their way to the front door.
‘Don’t forget’, his Mum said. ‘No later than five thirty, do you hear’.
They both nodded in agreement as they escaped through the door and headed down the road in the direction of the canal.
Chapter 3
The One That Got Away
The canal ran just five hundred metres from where Tommy and Smithy lived. Its wide banks complete with tarmac tow paths made it ideal for Tommy’s wheelchair allowing him to go wherever he wished to fish. Some four hundred metres along the canal was a wide bridge that swept in a curve so anyone entering one side, could not see anyone on the tow path at the other.
The two boys made their way to the opposite side where the sign ‘BARGES FOR HIRE AT KEMPLTON JUNCTION’ was situated on the grass embankment. Smithy climbed up the slight hill to place the fishing kit behind the sign. With only the holdall on his back which contained their lunch, and the sleeping cat, Smithy rejoined Tommy on the footpath.
‘There’, he said as he inspected his hiding place, walking up and down the tow path so as to ensure that no one could see the kit. ‘It’ll be as safe as houses there until we get back’.
With that they set off with Smithy pushing Tommy up the path which led to the roadway above to catch the bus which stopped just the other side of the bridge. They had only minutes to wait before the bus arrived. It stopped to let off passengers before allowing anyone to get on. Smithy jumped on and asked the conductor if he would help get Tommy aboard.
‘You can’t come on this bus with that’, the conductor said in a nasty tone which annoyed both of the boys.
‘Why can’t we’, said Tommy in a voice that showed his anger.
‘Because this bus has no facilities for the disabled’, the ignorant conductor said.
‘Lift him on board and sit him in one of your seats then’, Smithy replied in a sarcastic tone. ‘You can then fold up the chair and put it in the baggage area’ he insisted.
‘That’s more than my jobs worth’, the conductor said as he rang the bell to start the bus on its way.
The bus left with the conductor grinning through the back window in a self-satisfied sort of way.
‘Can you beat that’, Smithy said still showing his anger.
‘Don’t let it worry you, I get that type of treatment all of the time from prat’s like him’, Tommy said looking a little hurt.
‘What do we do now’, Smithy asked looking a little lost for a suggestion.
‘Well I suppose I could try out my special powers to see if I can arrange transport, but we had better get out of sight before I do’, Tommy replied.
‘What a good idea’, Smithy said as he grabbed the handle of Tommy’s wheelchair and started pushing him in the direction of the path that led back to the canal.
The boys decide that they should go halfway under the bridge which would put them out of sight from both sides of the bridge, which would allow them to hear if anyone approached from either direction.
‘Right’, Tommy said as he concentrated on his task.
Within seconds Tommy’s wheelchair turned into what can only be described as a ‘Noddy Car’. It was bright yellow and red with over large headlights that looked like a pair of eyes, and large wheels that seemed four sizes too big.
‘Wow’, Smithy said in complete surprise at what stood before him.
The car disappeared as quickly as it had arrived leaving Tommy back in his familiar old wheelchair.
‘What was that’, Smithy asked.
‘I don’t know’, replied Tommy. ‘I can’t seem to concentrate my thought’s, all sorts of things go through my mind when I try to produce something. For some reason I started to think of Toy Town and Noddy. Don’t ask me why’, Tommy added.
‘Why did it disappear so quickly’, asked Smithy. ‘I would have loved to have taken it for a spin’.
‘That’s another thing’, Tommy said. ‘As soon as I stop concentrating the things disappear again’.
‘Let’s try it again’, suggested Smithy in anticipation of driving a super cool sports car.
Tommy once again got his thoughts together and started concentrating on his task. Instantly his wheelchair changed into another vehicle, again not quite the super sports car that Smithy was expecting. This time Tommy was seated in a clown’s car, the type you would see at the circus. It was bright blue and red, had no top on it, and its headlights were dangling out of their sockets on springs bouncing up and down with every movement made. Steam spurted out of the radiator cap on the top of the bonnet and all of the doors fell off
as soon as Smithy touched it. Again no sooner had it appeared than it disappeared leaving Tommy looking very frustrated.
‘This is no good’, said Tommy. ‘I can’t seem to concentrate on anything for more than a few seconds, and even then it produces nothing like I want it to.
‘Never mind’, said Smithy. ‘What we really need is something that you can really see to concentrate your thoughts, and I’ve got just the thing’.
Smithy started feeling in his inside pocket and brought out a rather crumpled copy of his favourite magazine ‘ DYNAMO MAN’. Smithy fumbled through the pages until he came to his most favourite page showing ‘Dynamo Mans’ latest equipment.
‘Look at this’, Smithy said as he looked down in envy at the picture of ‘Dynamo Mans, sports car ‘Dynocar’. ‘Isn’t it lovely, it is completely
computerised and needs no manual operation. You just tell it where to go and it takes you there. It travels so fast that no one can see it and it can even mend its own punctures’.
Tommy took the magazine from Smithy and started to stare at the picture with all his power. As before the wheelchair quickly turned into a vehicle, but this time it was not something to laugh about for there stood Dynamo Man’s ‘Dynacar’. Smithy fell back in amazement at what had appeared before him. With his mouth wide open and for once speechless he got to his feet and came over to admire his super hero’s most prized car.
‘Its, its wonderful’, is all Smithy could say as he ran his fingers down the sleek black lines of the bodywork, fingering the large tail wings that made the car seem as if it could fly.
The window suddenly opened to show Tommy sat in the driver’s seat with the magazine still clutched in his hands with him still concentrating hard on the picture. For once the car did not disappear straight away so Smithy went around the other side and climbed into the passenger seat next to his mate.
‘Isn’t this great’, said Smithy. ‘How about taking us for a spin’.
Tommy turned towards his friend to say something to him, temporarily taking his concentration away from the picture in front of him. Instantly the car disappeared leaving the sound of a large ‘Ouch’ as Smithy landed on his bottom on the hard tarmac path. He regained his feet rubbing his behind which had taken the full force of the drop.
‘You nearly had it that time’, said Smithy.
‘As long as I concentrate on the picture the car stays’, replied Tommy in a disappointed voice.
‘Good’, answered Smithy. ‘That’s all we need to get us there, the car will do the rest’.
The boys prepared themselves for their adventure, for his part Tommy clutched the ‘Dynamo Man’ magazine in his hands and Smithy memorised the instructions to the car that they had agreed on. Smithy pushed Tommy back up the tow path and again up the path leading to the road above. Looking all around them to ensure that the coast was clear first, Tommy started to concentrate on the picture of the car once again. Instantly it returned and Smithy quickly jumped into the passenger seat. Tommy stared down at the picture for all he was worth leaving Smithy to give the instructions to the vehicle.
‘Car’, Smithy said in an authoritative voice. ‘Take us to Uncle Frank’s farm just outside Broadacre on the Windom Road, stop three hundred metres up the road from the main gates’.
With that the car started to move and was soon speeding up the road doing almost five hundred miles an hour. Smithy sat there in pure awe of what he was doing, thinking that nobody would believe him if he told them. Within just a few minutes the car came to a stop. Smithy opened the electric window and identified the farm he could see just a short distance up the road.
‘We’re here’, he said in an excited voice.
Tommy took his eyes off the picture and once again the car disappeared, however, this time without the sound of Smithy hitting then ground. He had already anticipated Tommy’s move and had quickly jumped out of the car.
‘That was great’, said Smithy.
‘Yes, I enjoyed it too’, Tommy replied. If only there was some way of making the car stay without having to concentrate on it all of the time, it would make life a lot easier’.
Smithy pointed up the road. ‘That’s Uncle Frank’s place’, he said. ‘I’m not looking forward to knocking on his door’, he added.
They started up the road in the direction of the farm when suddenly a car zoomed past nearly knocking them into the ditch that ran along the side of the road. The car indicated and turned down the drive heading for Uncle Frank’s farm. As it did so both boys got a good look at the passenger who sat beside the driver.
‘That’s him’, said Tommy. ‘That’s the man who forced his way into our house and held Mum and me prisoner’.
‘Are you sure’, replied Smithy.
‘I’ll never forget his face in a hurry’, Tommy said. ‘You could see the scar on his left cheek quite clearly’, Tommy added.
‘Why would they be going to Uncle Frank’s farm’, asked Smithy. ‘Do you think they are holding him prisoner too?’
‘I don’t know’, answered Tommy. ‘We will have to get a little closer for a better look’.
They continued up the road until they reached the entrance to the farm drive.
‘If we walk down there they will be able to see us from the farm house’, Tommy said. ‘We had better find a way to get closer’.
They studied the outlying approaches to the farm and agreed that the only way they could get closer without being seen was via a small wood running from the edge of the road which would allow them to get to the farm outbuildings at the side and back of the farm house. The view from the windows of the farm house on this side would be obstructed by the outbuildings and would therefore hide their approach. The only problem with this route was Tommy’s wheelchair.
‘How are we going to manage to get you through the wood in your chair’, Smithy said scratching his head in deep thought.
‘Maybe I can arrange some help’, said Tommy as he started to concentrate hard.
In a matter of seconds two legs sprang from Tommy’s wheelchair lifting him four feet off the ground. They started to run forward and then backwards as if they had a mind of their own. With all this movement Tommy started to loose concentration as well as his temper.
‘Stay here’, he said in a grumpy voice.
The legs stood perfectly still, which is more than could be said for Smithy. He was on the grass laughing his head off.
‘You should have seen your self, you looked like a demented chicken with those long legs wobbling backwards and forwards’, Smithy said in between his bouts of laughter.
‘It’s all right for you, Tommy replied. You didn’t have to ride this bucking bronco’.
‘Hey, have you noticed something’, Smithy said. ‘Your legs are still with us and you’ve stopped thinking about them’.
Tommy suddenly took in what Smithy had said. True enough the legs were still there and he had forgotten all about them.
‘You’re right’, Tommy replied looking down on his mate from on high.
‘Why haven’t they disappeared as normal? Smithy questioned. ‘What did you do this time that you haven’t done before.’ ‘Nothing’, replied Tommy. ‘Apart from telling them to stay here’.
‘That must be it’, said Smithy. ‘You need to tell things when to stay and go. Let’s try it out’.
‘Right’, replied Tommy. ‘Are you ready, ‘Legs Go’, he commanded.
The legs disappeared immediately.
Four Wheeled Hero Page 3
