“You bleedin’ little plonker.
You ain’t supposed to smoke in ‘ere. The bloody fire brigade’ll be here in a
minute. We’ll get fined.”
“I don’t know why it went off,” said Red.
“Must be faulty wiring.”
“Don’t try it on. I can smell the cigarette
smoke on you. You wait till I see your dad. You’re too young to smoke.”
“I’m sixteen. None of your business, any
roads. My old man don’t mind.”
“Come on, let’s go.” Ollie wobbled Red’s
arm.
“Yeah, you’re right,” said Chuffy. “You
have to get out.”
“Well, if it was my ciggie that did it, we
know there ain’t a fire, don’t we?” said Red.
“Your ciggie? So you admit you was smoking.
Oh, and what’s this?” Chuffy picked up one of the beer cans.
“Come on let’s go,” whispered Archie.
“Yeah,” said Red, pushing the bar on the
fire door. “Let’s do it properly.”
They could hear the siren of a fire engine already. Then Red’s dad’s black
sports car pulled up at the curb.
“Oh bugger,” said Red. “Let’s leg it.”
