Under the Green Hill Read Online Free Page B

when they came to the vehicle, an ancient-looking, open-backed contraption they couldn’t readily identify. It was somewhere between a pickup truck and a piece of farm equipment.
    â€œLittle ’uns up front, big ’uns in the back.”
    â€œI’m not riding back there!” Finn said, but for all the good it did he might as well have been talking to the truck itself. The man opened the front passenger door (on the left) for Silly, who dragged James up after her, and then started the car, looking impatient to be off. Meg, Rowan, and Dickie heaved their bags into the back and then settled themselves as best they could on the scraps of hay and old burlap sacks that lay strewn in the bed. Finn mumbled something about getting a taxi, but he wasn’t quite brave enough to follow through with his threat (though Rowan had his fingers crossed), and finally directed the porter to throw his bags in as he scrambled up into the truck. The moment Finn was in, the man pressed the gas. As far as Meg could tell, he hadn’t even turned around to make sure everyone was aboard.
    Meg never expected it to be a pleasant ride, but she found that once they got into the countryside she didn’t mind the violence of the wind on her face or the growing heat of the late-spring sun. The land was hilly and green, divided into oddly shaped fields and pastures by rows of hedges or low rough stone walls that looked as if they had been in place for eons. White balls of sheep dotted the hillsides, and she saw that some of them, when they turned toward her, had black faces. She wished she’d been inside with Silly and James, though, if only so she’d have a chance to talk to the man. He might seem stern and taciturn, but Meg figured he could hardly refuse to answer her questions if he was trapped in a truck with her.
    Inside, Silly was meeting with little success. It took her a while to get over the fact that they were driving on the wrong (that is, the left) side of the road. Twice she almost grabbed the man’s arm to pull him over to the other side, but she controlled herself. It made her dizzy to see the cars zooming past them on the wrong side. Eventually, she got used to it, though she would still sometimes flinch if she’d been looking down for a while, then, suddenly, looked up to find herself in the unaccustomed place.
    She tried to strike up a conversation right away. “What’s your name?” she asked. It seemed a fair question. He replied with something that sounded like a grunt.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œBran.”
    â€œOh.” She expected to be asked hers, but then she realized he must already know. She tried a different tactic. “Is it going to be a long drive? I love long drives. Especially out in the country. What’s the speed limit here? Do you go by kilometers? What’s the name of that town over there?” She said it all in a rush. It seemed that, with so many questions to choose from, he’d find it easy to answer at least one of them.
    â€œDon’t talk while I drive. It distracts me.”
    Silly was talkative and persistent, and not one to be bullied. All the same, she found herself cowed by the dark, rough man driving them, and didn’t dare talk to him for the rest of the three hours it took to reach the Rookery. She did, however, occasionally talk to James, and glanced defiantly slantwise at the man to see if he’d object. He never did, and the first time she almost thought she caught the faintest trace of a smile; it looked as if such a thing rarely touched his mouth.
    In the end, Silly decided that the man might have a real reason for not wanting to be distracted. He drove much more slowly than any of the other cars were going, and though he was careful he seemed…well, too careful. Perhaps he had only driven a few times in his life, or knew all the rules of driving without ever having had to put them into practice. He seemed to think for a