"Come on then, get in the car."
"Just a minute, I fergot me 'at," Uncle Hobart shouted, scurrying back into the house. He emerged a few minutes later wearing a bright yellow cloth cap.
"What on earth's that?" I laughed, pointing at his head.
Sliding into the passenger seat, he sniffed. "Got it in a sale, didn't I? It were reduced."
"Well that's no surprise." I chuckled.
Straightening his cap, Uncle Hobart threw me an injured look. "Yer know, there were a time when yer used ter keep up with the latest fashions, Peter boy."
"Yeah," I agreed, "but I'm not an old age pensioner, am I? I mean look at you. I can see that I'm going to have to stop you watching the Clothes Show on the telly if you keep this up!"
Putting the car into gear I pulled away, while Uncle Hobart thrust his hand into his raincoat pocket and brought out a can of beer. Looking at me sideways, he smiled knowingly. "You're driving," he said.
"Right," I agreed, licking my lips.
"And yer shouldn't drink and drive."
"Right," I agreed, licking my lips again.
"So stop smacking yer bleedin' lips, then!"
"Right," I said, as I grabbed the can and threw it out of the driver's window.
"Oy, what yer do that fer?" he protested.
"Because if I can't have a beer, then I don't see why you should," I retorted.
He sat, thinking about that for moment, while I concentrated on my driving, enjoying the late summer afternoon sun as it warmed me through the windscreen.
"Where're we going anyway?" Uncle Hobart finally asked.
"I told you, it's a surprise."
"I don't like surprises."
"I'll guarantee you'll like this one," I assured him.
We drove on in silence for another few miles, then I pulled into a lay-by. "Here, put this on," I told him, holding out a scarf. Taking it, Uncle Hobart shrugged, putting it round his neck. "No, not around your neck, you idiot. Over your eyes."
"Me eyes?"
"Yes, I don't want you seeing where we're going."
"Why not?" he asked, a frown creasing his forehead.
"Because then you'll know where we're going before we get there, won't you?"
"But I'll know where we're going when we get there anyway," he argued.
Sighing deeply, I tried to keep my temper under control. "Just do this as a favour to me," I muttered through clenched teeth. "Why the hell do you have to make a fight out of everything? Just put the damned scarf over your eyes and humour me, okay?"
Clicking his dentures, Uncle Hobart tied the scarf over his eyes, then slumped back in his seat.
Pulling out of the lay-by and accelerating up the road, I wondered why I was going to all this trouble for an ungrateful old git. The tyres hummed over the tarmac and it wasn't long before the car was filled with Uncle Hobart's gentle snoring.
*
We'd almost reached our destination when a blue light started flashing behind us and my heart skipped a beat as I glanced down at the speedometer to see I was doing well over seventy. Pulling into the side of the road, I stopped the car, winding down my window, wracking my brain for a reasonable excuse as to why I’d been speeding, but before I could do anything a large policeman loomed up alongside the car, yanking open the door. Pulling me from my seat, he threw me on the ground where I landed in a tangle of arms and legs.
"What the hell are you doing!" I demanded in a muffled voice.
My voice was muffled because the large policeman was now sitting on my head, busily handcuffing my hands behind my back.
"Shut up!" he snarled in a menacing tone.
Another pair of oversized boots arrived alongside my head, splattering mud into my eyes.
"Check the guy in the car," the large policeman said to the new arrival. "It sounds like he's choking. I expect this bastard's gagged him as well and he can't breath properly."
"Gagged!" I shrieked, my objection coming out as an unintelligible squawk. Wetting my lips I tried again, "Gagged? What are you talking about? He's just snoring, you stupid berk!"
The large policeman flipped me over, glaring down into my face. An icy finger ran down my spine as I realised that giving vent to my emotions had obviously been a bad idea. Swallowing noisily, I tried to ignore the hard glint in his eyes.
"It's okay, the one in here's just asleep," the other policeman called from inside the car.
"Told you so," I mumbled sulkily.
"You sure?" my captor asked, pulling me to my feet by my hair. "You sure he's not dead?" A note of disappointment had crept into his voice.
"No, he’s okay, Rocky. He's just sleeping."
"Rocky?" I raised an eyebrow and smiled. Another mistake.
"You got a problem with that?" the large policeman growled, lifting me further onto my toes.
"No officer, of course not," I managed as the huge fist twisted my hair even tighter. "Just asking, that's all. You know, taking an interest."
Rocky lowered me back onto the ground and I leant against the car, breathing heavily, every hair on my head hurting. I was finding it hard to keep my eyes from watering. Rocky leant into the car, roughly shaking Uncle Hobart awake, and for once I was pleasantly surprised as he lambasted the police for treating me so roughly, even going so far as threatening an official complaint.
During a break in this tirade, Rocky tried to explain that a passing motorist had seen the scarf tied around Uncle Hobart's head, reporting a kidnapping in progress. Uncle Hobart just snorted at this explanation, clicking his dentures as he climbed back into the car. Rocky gave me a dirty look, letting me know exactly how he felt.
"Er ... excuse me," I shouted as he walked away. "I don't want to be a nuisance or anything, but do you think you could possibly take these handcuffs off?"
Stomping back, Rocky retrieved his handcuffs but with such ill humour that my fingers tingled for hours afterwards.
"I should think so too!" Uncle Hobart shouted after the policeman's disappearing back.
Rocky's large shoulders rose, as though someone had poked him in the small of his back. Stopping in his tracks the big policeman turned back to glare at Uncle Hobart. "Look pal," he replied in a low growl, "any more out of you and I'll do the both of you for obstructing the police, speeding, dangerous driving, wasting police time and anything else that I can think of. Got it?" He sounded really pissed off.
"For God's sake, will you bloody shut up," I urged as Uncle Hobart opened his mouth to respond.
Jumping back in the car, I drove off at a sedate twenty-nine miles an hour, uncomfortably aware that the police car was following us down the road.
"Never been kidnapped afore," Uncle Hobart said. "Exciting ain't it?"
Ignoring him, I concentrated on my driving, trying to control the nervous tick that had started in the corner of my left eye.
*
Uncle Hobart's faded blue eyes filled with tears when we finally stopped in the front-yard of his old farmyard. I could see his hands trembling as he read the banner strung across the front of the house.
'WELCOME HOME UNCLE HOBART', it proclaimed.
For once in his life he appeared at a loss for words.
As he looked at me open mouthed, Aunt Martha came out of the house, gave Uncle Hobart a big welcoming hug and stepped back. "Welcome home dear," she whispered, close to tears herself.
Aunt Martha and I had sold our own houses so that we could buy back Nettle Farm. It had left us with just enough spare cash to purchase enough stock to get us started again. We were going to work the farm as a team, in health, happiness, and prosperity.
Well anyway, that was the plan.