Read Online Eight Days of Luke by Diana Wynne Jones - Free Book Online Page B

eating out of his hand—or rather, Luke was eating out of hers. But he could see she had given Luke a scare or he would not be looking so upset. “Was she furious?” he asked anxiously, as he and Luke went downstairs.
    â€œNo, not really,” said Luke. “It’s—look, David, can you help me get out of the house? And if you want to summon me, can you do it well away from here until he’s gone?”
    â€œYes,” said David, mystified. “But what’s happened?”
    Luke took hold of his wrist and pulled him cautiously over to the landing window. He pointed, but, David saw, he kept well away to the side of the window himself. David looked out, expecting—well, he hardly knew what he expected, except that it was something alarming. All he saw was the broad back of Cousin Ronald’s new gardener, who was slowly weeding a flowerbed.
    â€œSee him?”
    â€œThe gardener?” said David. He turned back to Luke, wondering what was so alarming about a fat old gardener, and meaning to make a joke about it. Luke’s face was narrow and hunted-looking and his eyes had gone very wide and golden. David saw he really was frightened. “Who is he?” he asked.
    â€œChew,” said Luke. “I can’t think how—but I couldn’t get out of the window with him there. I’ll have to get out by the front door, if you could keep him talking while I do. He’s very stupid. If you just chatter, he won’t suspect a thing.”
    â€œAll right,” said David, though it seemed a mystery that Luke should be afraid of someone so fat and stupid.
    They came downstairs and met Astrid in the hall.
    â€œHallo, Luke!” Astrid said. “Nice to see you again. That fire’s in the paper this morning. Did you see?”
    Luke turned to Astrid with his most charming smile, but he gave David a nudge as he turned, to tell him to get out and distract that gardener. David went through the dining room, toward the French window. Halfway to it, he stopped short and nearly went back again. He heard Aunt Dot say, in her haughtiest voice:
    â€œJust who is this person, Astrid?”
    â€œEr—this is Luke,” Astrid said, sounding rather guilty about it.
    David thought that if Luke could charm both Astrid and Mrs. Thirsk, he could probably handle even Aunt Dot. He sped on toward the French window and collided with Cousin Ronald coming in.
    â€œLook where you’re going, boy!” snapped Cousin Ronald.
    â€œSorry,” said David. “Cousin Ronald, what’s the new gardener’s name?”
    â€œMr. Chew,” said Cousin Ronald. “Must be Chinese or something. Don’t you go interrupting him.”
    David ignored that instruction. He scudded in long strides up the lawn and came to a rather sudden halt beside Mr. Chew’s great right shoulder. Mr. Chew was not fat. He was wide because he was built on the lines of a gorilla, and the width was pure muscle. David no longer wondered why Luke was frightened when he saw Mr. Chew’s massive right arm, swathed in muscles and spread with rough black hairs, moving out toward a weed. Mr. Chew’s big horny hand hovered and then made a vicious jabbing plunge. The weed came up between fingers that looked capable of tearing up a tree. Mr. Chew—or did you spell it Chou?, David wondered—grunted, tossed the weed on a heap of others, and moved on to another.
    â€œGood morning, Mr. Chew,” David said nervously. Mr. Chew made no reply except another apeman grunt, which may have been directed at the weeds, not at David. “Fine weather for the Test, isn’t it?” said David. He got another grunt. “Are you interested in cricket, Mr. Chew?” he asked, rather desperate by now.
    Mr. Chew actually spoke. He said “No,” heavily, like a lump of earth falling.
    â€œThen I’ll explain it to you,” David said. “You play with eleven men a side