Johnny and the Bomb Read Online Free Page A

there, don’t we?’
    â€˜Er … I think so, Sir John. Wasn’t that the one where you personally chose the site? You said you just knew it would be a good one. Er … but today you’ve got appointments to see the chairman of—’
    â€˜Cancel ’em all. I’m going to Blackbury. Don’t tell ’em I’m coming. Call it … a lightning inspection. The secret of success in business is to pay attention to the little details, am I right? People get underdone burgers or the fries turn out to be too soggy and before you know where you are the entire business is down around your ears.’
    â€˜Er … if you say so, Sir John.’
    â€˜Right. I’ll be ready in twenty minutes.’
    â€˜Er … you could, perhaps, leave it until tomorrow? Only the committee did ask that—’
    â€˜No!’ The old man slapped the table. ‘It’s got to be today! Today’s when it all happens, you see. Mrs Tachyon. The trolley. Johnny and the rest of them. It’s got to be today. Otherwise …’ He pushed away the dull yet healthy breakfast. ‘Otherwise it’s this for the rest of my life.’
    The secretary was used to Sir John’s moods, and tried to lighten things a little.
    â€˜Blackbury …’ he said. ‘That’s where you were evacuated during the war, wasn’t it? And you were the only person to escape when one of the streets got bombed?’
    â€˜Me and two goldfish called Adolf and Stalin. That’s right. That’s where it all started,’ said Sir John, getting up and going over to the window. ‘Go on, jump to it.’
    The secretary didn’t go straightaway. One of his jobs was to keep an eye on Sir John. The old boy was acting a bit odd, people had said. He’d taken to reading very old newspapers and books with words like ‘Time’ and ‘Physics’ in the title, and sometimes he even wrote angry letters to very important scientists. When you’re the richest man in the world, people watch you very closely.
    â€˜Adolf and Stalin,’ said Sir John, to the whole worldin general. ‘Of course, these two are only their descendants. It turned out that Adolf was female. Or was it Stalin?’
    Outside the window, the gardens stretched all the way to some rolling hills that Sir John’s landscape gardener had imported specially.
    â€˜Blackbury,’ said Sir John, staring at them. ‘That’s where it all started. The whole thing. There was a boy called Johnny Maxwell. And Mrs Tachyon. And a cat, I think.’
    He turned.
    â€˜Are you still here?’
    â€˜Sorry, Sir John,’ said the secretary, backing out and shutting the door behind him.
    â€˜That’s where it all started,’ said Sir John. ‘And that’s where it’s all going to end.’
    Johnny always enjoyed those first few moments in the morning before the day leapt out at him. His head was peacefully full of flowers, clouds, kittens—
    His hand still hurt .
    Horrible bits of last night rushed out from hiding and bounced and gibbered in front of him.
    There was a shopping trolley full of unspeakable bags in the garage. There was also a spray of milk across the wall and ceiling where Guilty had showed what he thought of people who tried togive him an unprovoked meal. Johnny had had to use the biggest Elastoplast in the medicine tin afterwards.
    He got up, dressed, and went downstairs. His mother wouldn’t be up yet and his grandad was definitely in the front room watching Saturday morning TV.
    Johnny opened the garage door and stepped back hurriedly, in case a ball of maddened fur came spinning out.
    Nothing happened.
    The dreadful trolley stood in the middle of the floor. There was no sign of Guilty.
    It was, Johnny thought, just like those scenes in films where you know the monster is in the room somewhere …
    He jumped sideways, just in case Guilty was about to