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THE LORRY LADY

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| BY EARDLEY BESWICK. | I % i^/.VTv.v^rv.vTv.vTv.vTv.vTV.%A , ‘v.'/»v.>/yv.'/Tv-v r rv.'/'* , v.vi

CHAPTER VI,

CARROW MAKES A TEMPORARY

REPAIR

A. fat little red-headed man drooped wearily over the steering wheel. On his head was a weather stained cap that left only the short-cut hair above his grimed bulging neck vissible. He snorted in his sleep. “Ginger Stone!” said the archeologist. “Here Pop- POP! I say. What in Hades are you doing there ? ’ The little man stirred. His head shifted slightly. He opened on them the red rims of his fish-grey eyes. Maciie sensed somehow that he was pretending to awake. She could have sworn his sleep had been a, sham. “Hullo, guv’nor,” lie said. “I bin takin’ chawge of this ’ere lorry. Does it belong to yer?” He nodded m sleepy reproof. “Didden’ ought ter leave it’ere, yer know.” ' .. “Please get down,” said Madie. “You’ve no right up there. No one asked you to take charge of the lorry. “Cert/nly, Lidy, Orlways willin' to obey. That’s me. Ginger. Not as ’ow you’d ought to have left 'er ’ere, you know, not even while yer spends the night wiv a friend.” He leered at her as if there were an understanding between them. But the smile left Ins face when he saw Mr Nicholas Garrow leaping at him. “Gor blime, guv - nor!” he protested as a hand snatched him by his dirty muffler, and, dragging him rudely to the ground, released him with a swing that him to his knees against the hedge. For a moment he looked dangerously angered. Then his face smoothed into an expression of hurt innocence. “Bit ’asty, aren’t yer, guv’nor?” lie protested as he tenderly adjusted his muffler. “I bin doin’ yer a service lookin’ after your lorry, if it is your lorry, for yer.” ' . . “Never mind whose lorry it is. xou make yourself scarce.” The archaeologist was standing threateningly over the bewildered little man, literally shouting at him. And strangely enough the predominant .thought in Madie’s mind as she watched them was “I’m glad to have seen him in a temper.” She even tended to be sorry for the smaller man, for the excitement had wiped out for the moment her recollection of his offence, and he didn’t seem to stand the ghost of a chance with this big bullying assailant. But as Mr Stone moved furtively out of the range of those, long threatening arms his face broke into a sarcastic smile. “All right, I’m goin’!” he said, moving a lew steps, and then as he continued to retreat seeming to measure his words .to his distance. “Ginger ain’t a one to intrude . . . Sorry if I’ve bin and said wot I ought not . . . Mum’s the word.” Carrow after glaring at him threateningly seemed to realise that further protest would be undignified and turned to busy himself with the tool-box. “I’m sorry to have let you in for that,” he said as the little man disappeared down the road. “That’s all right. It can’t be helped, I suppose,” she assured him. “Girls who drive lorries must learn to put up with mucli worse things than that.” She had no clear idea of what the worse things she alluded to might consist of—after all‘her experience of the business was slight—but she recollected for a moment the joking of the men at the iron-foundry which at the time she had not found particularly disturbing. “What are you going to do?” she asked. “I’m going to see if I can straighten that near wheel a bit. It seems to me that it’s only the radius rod that’s bent. Have you got anything solid to hold against it ?” From the load they selected a lumpy sort of casting that seemed to suit the job, and a few hammer blows while she held this behind the rod effected a noticeable improvement. They agreed that it might now be possible to drive slowly and so it proved. Madie did drive slowly for about fifty yards while Carrow hung on the step. She pulled up satisfied. “That’s fine,” she said. “I can manage nicely now. Goodbye.” She held out her hand. Mr Carrow ignored the hand. In fact he pushed it out of the way almost contemptuously as he climbed into the cab beside her. “I thought I told you I meant to see you quite right before I left you,” he said and proceeded to light his pipe carefully. “I’ve been thinking,” he resumed in the most matter of fact tones when the pipe was at length, fairly going, “that this job is really only a blacksmith’s proposition. If we can hit on a smithy I’ll have that rod off and see what.can be done with it. A good smith will do a job of that kind for a few shillings where a garage would soak you pounds. No need to stop any longer, is there? Better drive on.” Once again she seemed to be left without an alternative. The suggestion was too good to be ignored though it was one that she could very easily carry out for herself. Her companion might be annoyingly persistent, but he had ideas, and was far from unpractical in the execution of them as his improvement of her steering had shown. Nevertheless, she hacl been seized with a desire'to get rid of him. She was feeling that she did not want her business to be cluttered up with men just yet, and she was prepared unscrupulously to take advantage of his really brilliant suggestion for the repairs while denying him any participation therein. If he went away now, she felt, a pleasant Itttle interlude would be ended quite naturally and harmlessly. What a nuisance a man could be who would not take a hint! And she drove on rather crossly. Within three miles they came to a village, a real, old-fashioned village with a smithy, and a solidly-bridged river. He quickly fetched the smith out and explained the repair. Soon the two were removing the bent member and presently the smith stood eyeing it as it lay across his great black palm. “Better bend it hot,” he said contemptuously, “The iron they uses in these modem cars baint easy to bend without starting a crack.” Madie laughed out loud. Her old fivetonner that had done every inch of five hundred thousand miles to be condemned for modernity! But Mr Carrow only nodded wisely and said “Very well. Do it as you think best. How long will it take?” “Best part of half an hour,” said the smith. “What say we go and have a look at the river while he gets on with it?” suggested Mr Carrow.

(To be continued.)

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Permanent link to this item

https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/AG19451204.2.70

Bibliographic details

Ashburton Guardian, Volume 66, Issue 46, 4 December 1945, Page 5

Word Count
1,124

THE LORRY LADY Ashburton Guardian, Volume 66, Issue 46, 4 December 1945, Page 5

THE LORRY LADY Ashburton Guardian, Volume 66, Issue 46, 4 December 1945, Page 5