Two Weeks with the Queen by Morris Gleitzman Read Free Book Online Page A

same carriage as dozens of other people. You can catch a cold or flu or anything. Well, not anything. A lot of things but not, you know, anything.’
    â€˜It’s OK, Alistair,’ said Colin. ‘I know you don’t catch cancer from other people.’
    Alistair looked pained.
    â€˜Mum said that word isn’t to be mentioned in this house while you’re here.’
    â€˜What word?’
    â€˜That word.’
    â€˜Cancer?’
    â€˜Shhhh.’
    Colin looked at Alistair and the thought occurred to him that perhaps being an only child wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.
    Downstairs the phone rang.
    â€˜Quickly,’ Aunty Iris called up. ‘It’s your mum and dad.’
    Colin raced down.
    â€˜I’ve told them you arrived OK,’ said Aunty Iris.
    Mum and Dad sounded very faint. Colin wasn’t sure if it was because they were very far away or because they were very unhappy.
    â€˜Don’t worry,’ he shouted into the phone, ‘everything’s going to be OK.’
    There was an echo on the line and he heard his own voice.
    â€˜. . . going to be OK.’

Chapter Seven
    Next morning it was still dark when Colin woke. Perfect, he thought. Best to make an early start when you’re going to see the Queen. You’d kick yourself if you got there late and she’d gone shopping or something.
    He dressed quickly, wrote a short note (‘Gone for a walk. Cricket training. Back later.’) and crept down the stairs, hoping to slip out of the house before anyone else was up.
    No such luck.
    â€˜Morning, Colin,’ said Uncle Bob, looking over the top of his newspaper.
    â€˜Morning, Colin,’ said Aunty Iris, corning out of the kitchen with a tray of breakfast things.
    â€˜Morning, Colin,’ said Alistair, sitting at the dining-table with a mouthful of bacon.
    â€˜G’day,’ said Colin, pushing the note into his pocket. ‘What time is it?’
    His watch said six-thirty but it had been running a bit crook ever since Arnie Strachan dropped it in a pineapple yoghurt.
    â€˜Eight-fourteen,’ said Uncle Bob.
    â€˜Why’s it so dark outside?’ asked Colin.
    â€˜Don’t talk to me about dark,’ said Uncle Bob. ‘This country’s like a coal-mine in winter.’
    â€˜You slept well,’ said Aunty Iris. ‘Alistair, chew your food.’
    Colin looked out the window and saw that it was just getting light. He’d have to hurry.
    â€˜â€™Fraid we’re going to have to leave you on your own today,’ said Aunty Iris. ‘Alistair’s coming to work with me so I can take him to the doctor’s at lunchtime.’
    â€˜I’m sickening for something,’ said Alistair, shovelling a whole fried egg into his mouth.
    â€˜We want you to make yourself right at home,’ said Aunty Iris. ‘There’s the telly and the wireless and Uncle Bob’s Do-It-Yourself magazines. The important thing is, relax and take your mind completely off, you know, things.’
    â€˜Thanks,’ said Colin. ‘I’ve got heaps to keep me occupied.’
    Colin rubbed a peep-hole in the misted-up front room window and watched the little car chug away in a cloud of white exhaust.
    He counted to ten.
    Then he ran upstairs, hauled on his other three jumpers, slammed the front door behind him and sprinted down the street.
    He’d seen the underground station as they’d approached the house the evening before and he didn’t stop running till he’d reached it. He hurried down the steps, lungs raw in the icy air, and bought a ticket and a map of London.
    The train arrived and it was as crowded as Alistair had said, hundreds of people jammed into every carriage. Colin squeezed in and felt the sliding doors brush his shoulders as they closed behind him.
    At the next station even more people crushed in, and more at the next. Colin’s feet were barely touching the ground.