The Ghost at the Point by Charlotte Calder Read Free Book Online Page A

side. They climbed in, Jacky first.
    Dorrie was surprised that Caleb hadn’t told her to move over and sit behind the wheel himself. Then she realised he probably couldn’t drive. She remembered seeing them once or twice clopping down the main street of Jasper’s Cove in a trap, pulled by a scrawny pony.
    She tried not to wrinkle her nose as a pong of salt, dried bait and tobacco filled the cabin.
    “Good truck!” cried Jacky, tapping the dashboard. He bounced up and down and the old springs squeaked in protest. “Corker good truck.”
    He was positively beaming at her. She let out the clutch. Then, of course, the truck had to bunny hop – they jerked forwards, narrowly missing stalling.
    “Whee!” shouted Jacky. He thumped the dashboard again. “Go truck, go truck.”
    “Settle down, boy,” came his father’s growl.
    But Jacky had no intention of settling down. “There’s a corker big truck in town,” he told Dorrie. “You see it? Come off the boat.”
    Dorrie shook her head, grimly trying to keep the wheels straight as they hit a patch of thick sand. An overhanging branch hit the windscreen and bashed against the roof.
    “It was a corker
big
truck,” Jacky continued, adding politely but somewhat condescendingly, “bigger ’n this one!”
    He kept up a flow of chat all the way back to Dorrie’s place. Starting with every truck he’d ever seen, then moving on to cars, and finally steamers. “Corker big steamers out to sea,” he informed her. “Take passengers, ’n everything!”
    Dorrie half-smiled. It was like listening to a cheerful five year old, she thought vaguely, a five year old in a giant’s body.
    His father, meanwhile, sat silent, frowning.
    By the time the headlights picked out the mailbox, it was almost dark and Dorrie was filled with terror again. Were Gah’s injuries more than simply his leg? Would they even find him alive?
    She clenched her teeth, pulled up at the garage with a squawk of brakes and dashed around the side, the Pearces following. She felt weak with relief when she saw his dark shape move slightly.
    “Well done, Ducks,” he rasped.
    She bent down and stroked his cold, clammy forehead. “The Pearces are here to help, Gah – to get you to the hospital.”
    “Yer too old ta go climbing ladders, George Jose.” This was from Caleb, squatting down beside him.
    Gah grunted. “Don’t give me cheek, Caleb Pearce. Not exactly a spring chicken yourself.”
    Dorrie felt a bit surprised. They hardly ever saw the Pearces, yet Gah and Caleb obviously went back years. Probably at school together, she thought.
    “My boy ’n me’s gunna git you into the truck,” said Caleb. “Might give you a bit of a twinge but.” He gestured over his shoulder. “Carn boy.”
    But Jacky was standing quite still, staring at something in the shadows close by. He gave a little wave. “Bye-bye,” he said. “See ya later.” He turned to Dorrie. “That your friend?” he asked, pointing into the bushes.
    Dorrie felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She stared at him, then into the dark scrub, remembering the wet stain on the sand and Gah’s talk of someone helping.
    Caleb grunted. “Friendly roo, most like, or possum. “’E’d make friends with a shadow. Carn boy, lifting to be done. Be gentle, orright?”
    Jacky and his father bent down, one on either side of Gah. Gah put his arms around their necks. As they lifted him, he let out a single cry of pain, and everything else was driven out of Dorrie’s mind. Her grandfather was biting his lip, but she knew from his harsh, uneven breathing that he was in agony. Tears started down her cheeks again as she grabbed the blanket and cushion and followed them around into the garage.
    Getting him into the truck was even worse – he couldn’t help but cry out as they hoisted him into the passenger side.
    Caleb shut the door and turned to Dorrie.
    “Off you go, then.”
    With Gah half-sprawled along the seat there was only room for