Childrens Corner

Never mind, Ricky, ‘Auntie Joyce said, kindly. ‘There’s always next year.’ I had lost the bet. I was sure she would forget about it next ear. As we set off home in the car, I gazed out of the window. How wished I had learned to swim. I hated losing the bet. It was a ot day and in the 1950s the roads were very narrow. We weren’t oing very fast when I saw a river. We hadn’t got home so we were till really on holiday. I knew it was my last chance to win.

‘Stop the ar!’ I shouted. My parents knew about the bet and, though they bviously would not have done what I said when I was that age, I hink my father knew what I wanted and how much it meant to me.

Dad drove off the road and parked. ‘What’s up?’ He asked. ‘Ricky ants to have another go at winning those ten shillings,’ mums aid. I umped out of the car and stripped quickly, then ran across a field to the river. When I got to the bank, I felt scared. The river looked eep and fast, running over rocks. There was a muddy part where ows drank from. It was easy to reach the water from there. I turned y head and saw everyone standing, watching me.

Taken From : Screw It,Let’s Do It