Read Online The Runaway Summer by Nina Bawden - Free Book Online

immigrant.’
    Mary stared. Simon said, ‘Didn’t you really know? Not even when I asked you if you read the newspapers?’
    Mary shook her head. The truth was, she was usually so busy with her own thoughts and with what was happening to her, that what went on in the newspapers, or on television, seemed boring and far away, like grown-up conversation.
    Simon sighed. ‘I suppose you know what an immigrant is ?’
    â€˜Someone from another country who comes here to live. That’s not against the law !’
    â€˜Well. Sometimes. I mean, there’s lots of people who want to come here, or go to America, because they can’t get jobs in their own countries. But not everyone can come who wants to. There’s what’s called a quota—just so many foreigners let in every year. And sometimes people who can’t get a place on the quota try and sneak in some other way. Like those two men. Quite a lot land here because it’s near to France. Theyget to France and then they pay someone to bring them across the Channel.’
    Mary said, ‘But he’s only a boy. He couldn’t get a job!’
    â€˜Perhaps one of the men was his father or uncle or something.’
    Mary wondered if this was true. It hadn’t seemed like that. When they landed from the boat, the boy had seemed scared as if the men were strangers. And they had run off without looking back and left him behind, alone …
    Simon said, ‘They were Pakistanis, I expect. My father says most of the ones who land here come from Pakistan. Or India, sometimes.’
    â€˜What’ll happen to them?’
    Simon shrugged his shoulders. ‘They’ll put them in prison and then, if their papers aren’t right, they’ll send them back where they came from. It seems awful bad luck, when they’ve spent all their money to come here, but my father says it’s the only thing. He says …’
    Mary said, ‘I think it’s a mean and horrible thing to do! I mean, if they can’t get jobs in their own countries, they’ll just starve, won’t they?’
    â€˜My father says there’s no point in being sentimental,’ Simon said. ‘It’s just the law. People have to stick to the law.’
    He sounded so calm. As if he didn’t care at all. Mary looked at him—and felt her skin begin to crawl with panic. She had been wrong about Simon! He might know what to do, but not in the way she had meant. He wouldn’t help her to hide the boy! His father was a policeman! He would go and tell his father, because it was the law, and they would take the boy away and put him in prison.
    She said, ‘You better go. Just forget about it and go.’
    â€˜What’s up with you?’ He looked dumbfounded.
    â€˜Just that I’ve changed ray mind. I’ll look after him. You don’t have to help. I don’t want you to.’
    â€˜But what’ll you do?’
    â€˜Mind your own business.’ Mary stamped her foot. She could feel a fine, healthy rage burning up inside her. ‘It’s better you don’t know, isn’t it? After all, it might be against your precious, rotten law, mightn’t it? I might be doing something wrong! And you’re such an awful prig, you wouldn’t really want to know!’
    There was a twitch at the corner of his mouth as if he were trying not to smile. He said, ‘You know, you did ask me …’
    â€˜That was before I knew your father was a policeman!’
    For some reason, this went home. He said, ‘All right, then,’ and turned on his heel. The back of his neck was bright red as he walked away.
    Mary called after him, ‘If you tell anyone, I’ll kill you,’ but he didn’t turn round.
    She waited until he had disappeared, then she bent down to peer under the hut and call to the boy. He wasn’t at the back anymore, but near the steps. It startled her to find him so