A few moments later, he thought he saw a pair of yellow eyes looking at him from the road. He realized that they were the lights of a
car. It was standing at the side of the road. He did not know what
to do about it. Should he go up to the car, and knock on the window
and say, ‘Susan, come home’? But there was always the chance
that some other man’s daughter was in the car.
‘And then what will she think of me – out here in my pyjamas?’
He stopped and watched the light of day filling the sky. ‘What will the
neighbours think if they see me?’ he thought. ‘I must go home and
get to bed. I don’t know why I’m worrying like this. I never worried
like this when she was little.’
He turned and started to walk home. Just then he heard a car engine. He looked round and saw its lights coming along the road.
Suddenly he felt more stupid than ever. There was no time to get
away. He could only hide behind a tree. The long wet grass under
the tree made his pyjamas wetter then ever.
The car passed him. He could not see who was inside. ‘Perhaps
it’s Susie,’ he thought. ‘And now I shall have to go home and change my pyjamas.’ He started walking again. Then he stopped once
more. ‘What if it isn’t Susie?’ he thought. ‘What if something really
has happened to Susie?’
He felt sick and cold and miserable. The blood seemed to whisper
and sing inside his ears. His heart seemed to fill his whole body.
‘Oh Susie,’ he whispered, ‘Come home safely. Please . . . ‘
He realized that the car had stopped outside his house. A moment
later he saw Susie. She was wearing her long yellow evening dress.
‘How pretty she is!’ he thought. He heard her sweet, girlish voice
calling: ‘Goodbye. Yes. Lovely. Thank you.’
‘I mustn’t let her see me now,’ he thought. ‘I must keep out of sight.
I must go in through the back door. Then I can go upstairs and put
on dry pyjamas . . .’
A moment later the car turned and came back along the road
towards him. This time there was no chance to hide. For a few
miserable moments he stood there with the light of the car shining
in his eyes.
‘Look natural,’ he said to himself. ‘And hope that nobody notices
me.’
The car stopped and a voice called out:
‘Excuse me, sir. Are you Mr Carteret?’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I’m Carteret.’ He tried to sound cool and unworried.
‘Oh. I’m Bill Jordan, sir. ‘I’m sorry we were so late. I hope you
haven’t been worried about Susie?’
‘Oh! No. Of course not.’
‘My mother kept us, you see.’
A few moments later, he thought he saw a pair of yellow eyes looking at him from the road. He realized that they were the lights of acar. It was standing at the side of the road. He did not know whatto do about it. Should he go up to the car, and knock on the windowand say, ‘Susan, come home’? But there was always the chancethat some other man’s daughter was in the car.‘And then what will she think of me – out here in my pyjamas?’He stopped and watched the light of day filling the sky. ‘What will theneighbours think if they see me?’ he thought. ‘I must go home andget to bed. I don’t know why I’m worrying like this. I never worriedlike this when she was little.’He turned and started to walk home. Just then he heard a car engine. He looked round and saw its lights coming along the road.Suddenly he felt more stupid than ever. There was no time to getaway. He could only hide behind a tree. The long wet grass underthe tree made his pyjamas wetter then ever.The car passed him. He could not see who was inside. ‘Perhapsit’s Susie,’ he thought. ‘And now I shall have to go home and change my pyjamas.’ He started walking again. Then he stopped oncemore. ‘What if it isn’t Susie?’ he thought. ‘What if something reallyhas happened to Susie?’He felt sick and cold and miserable. The blood seemed to whisperand sing inside his ears. His heart seemed to fill his whole body.‘Oh Susie,’ he whispered, ‘Come home safely. Please . . . ‘He realized that the car had stopped outside his house. A momentlater he saw Susie. She was wearing her long yellow evening dress.‘How pretty she is!’ he thought. He heard her sweet, girlish voicecalling: ‘Goodbye. Yes. Lovely. Thank you.’‘I mustn’t let her see me now,’ he thought. ‘I must keep out of sight.I must go in through the back door. Then I can go upstairs and puton dry pyjamas . . .’A moment later the car turned and came back along the roadtowards him. This time there was no chance to hide. For a fewmiserable moments he stood there with the light of the car shiningin his eyes.‘Look natural,’ he said to himself. ‘And hope that nobody noticesme.’The car stopped and a voice called out:‘Excuse me, sir. Are you Mr Carteret?’‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I’m Carteret.’ He tried to sound cool and unworried.‘Oh. I’m Bill Jordan, sir. ‘I’m sorry we were so late. I hope youhaven’t been worried about Susie?’‘Oh! No. Of course not.’‘My mother kept us, you see.’
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