The Ice-cream Man by Jenny Mounfield Read Free Book Online

He swivelled his chair towards the shop’s plate glass window.
    The ice-cream van cruised by. Marty spun all the way around and headed for the doorway. As he shot onto the footpath and skidded to a stop, he saw the ice-cream man turn his head and look right at him. Rick was right, the man did have a beard – and he was grinning.
    ‘Stop following us, you whacked up turd-slinger!’ Marty yelled. He looked around, his fingers itching for something to throw at the retreating van, but apart from a couple of empty drink cans and a chip packet lying on the path, there was nothing.
    ‘Hey, take it easy, kid.’
    Marty’s head snapped around. A bald man with more wrinkles than an elephant’s backside was standing behind him, swaying back and forth like a sapling in a high wind. Aaron and Rick were framed behind him in the doorway.
    ‘The mongrel did that deliberately, didn’t turn the music on till he was right out the front,’ Marty said to them.
    ‘This here a mate of yours, Aaron?’ The old man’s eyes examined Marty like he was brain damaged.
    ‘Yeah. That’s Marty and this here’s Rick.’
    ‘So what’s going on? Your mate upset he didn’t get an ice-cream?’ He chuckled. His sharp, black eyes didn’t leave Marty for an instant.
    ‘It’s nothing. Come inside and finish your milkshake, Marty.’ Aaron ducked back through the plastic streamers.
    The old man followed them inside and after examining Marty one last time, made his way through to the stairs at the back of the shop.
    ‘Your grandfather?’ Marty said.
    ‘Nah, that’s Bernie, my step-father’s old man. He’s up from Newcastle for a holiday. Goes home next week, thank God,’ Aaron added under his breath. He watched the old man until he’d gone from view.
    ‘You really think the ice-cream man knew we were here? I mean, how?’
    Marty wiped a clammy hand over his face. ‘Geez, I totally lost it, didn’t I? Must be the heat or something. I bet Bernie thinks I’m a real nut-job.’
    ‘Doesn’t matter what he thinks. And it’s not the heat, it’s him, the ice-cream man,’ Aaron said seriously. ‘And did you see those flames on the side of the van? Is that weird, or what?’
    ‘Yeah, it’s real whacked,’ Rick said. ‘We saw him near the servo. The freak must’ve followed us.’ He upended his milkshake cup, slurping the last dregs, then wiped an arm across his foam-coated mouth.
    ‘But why would he do that?’ Aaron asked.
    ‘’Cause he’s a freak, that’s why,’ Rick replied.
    ‘And because we pranked him,’ Marty added. Aaron nodded. ‘So, what do you think we should
    do now?’
    Marty finished his milkshake. This whole ice- cream man thing was getting ridiculous. ‘We ignore him, that’s what. He’ll soon get sick of playing games and go pick on someone else.’
    ‘I say if he wants to play, then we play,’ Rick said.
    ‘Why should we just ignore the guy like a bunch of girls? He’s gonna think he’s won.’
    ‘We could go to the police,’ Aaron said.
    ‘And tell them what?’ Marty looked from Aaron to Rick. ‘I know how you feel, mate. I would’ve given anything for a brick a few minutes ago, but it’s his game, so we don’t play because that’s just what he wants.’
    Rick slumped in his chair, arms folded.
    Another blast of ‘Pop! Goes the Weasel’ rent the air. The boys looked towards the front of the shop. The ice-cream man drew level, pulling to a stop on the other side of the road.
    ‘So we ignore him?’ Aaron said, his voice rising to a squeak.
    Rick’s mouth twisted. He started to get to his feet, but Marty clamped a hand on his arm and forced him to sit. ‘We can do that, can’t we , Rick?’
    Rick grunted and eased back into his seat.
    Marty ran a finger through the condensation on his milkshake cup and tried to shut out the music.
    He could see the van sitting by the side of the road out of the corner of his eye. What was the psycho playing at? Ignoring him was the right thing to do,