I Am David by Anne Holm Page A

yards of where he lay.
    David ducked. A man got out of the car and began rummaging in the boot. David raised his head — he was quite an ordinary man, not one of them. The man made a sudden movement and David heard him mutter, “Blast, my spectacles …!”
    He spoke in English, not Italian. As he watched him groping about in the half-light along the edge of the road, David rose to his feet. When people wore spectacles, they could not see anything without them.
    “I’ll help you to find your spectacles.”
    The man straightened, bent towards him and peered into his face. David cast his eyes down, drew back slightly and wished he had thought first. But the man smiled and said, “Thank you very much! It’s not much good looking for glasses when you haven’t got them on, is it?” David answered, “No,” politely, and set about searching the edge of the road carefully until he came across them. The man had stepped over to the car and was talking to someone inside as David stood by with the glasses in his hand. Was he one of them after all? Could he escape? How far could he get? It was only a second before the stranger turned round and said, “Can’t you find them? If you can’t, my wife will drive …”
    David stepped slowly forward. “Here they are,” he said, and added hesitantly, “Sir.” The man put the glasses on and smiled again, and David felt sure he was not one of them. He had quite a different look about him: David could not imagine him striking or shooting anyone. He now felt in his pocket, took something out and offered it to David. A coin lay in his hand. “You must have something for your trouble,” he said.
    “No,” said David quickly, stepping back. “I mean — no, thank you.”
    The stranger looked a little disconcerted, then he smiled and said in that case David must accept his thanks and asked if he would like to say, “How do you do?” to his wife.
    David did not really want to, but as he did not know how to say so, he went with him to the car. A woman sat inside: she was not beautiful like the women of Italy, but she had a pleasant clean smell and it was not yet too dark for him to see that she was smiling. So David said good evening to her.
    Then the man spoke to her in French. He asked her if she had ever before come across a little Italian tramp who spoke English with an Oxford accent and was offended when he was offered money.
    David was just about to say that he had not been offended, when he decided not to. Since they already thought it strange that he spoke English, it was better not to let them see that he understood French as well.
    They asked him what he was called and who he was. David replied that his name was David and he was on his way to join a circus farther north. Fortunately they did not seem very interested, and apparently taking a hint from the brevity of his answer they questioned him no more. Instead they told him they came from England, were on holiday and would shortly have to return. Then the woman suggested they should have something she called “sandwiches”. These turned out to be food — slices of bread with something between them. They asked David if he would like one, and he said, “Yes, please.”
    They seemed pleased when David accepted their offer, and David thought they might be willing to answer a question if he put one to them.
    “Is there a king in England?” he inquired.
    The man told him that at the moment there was a queen because the last king had had no sons, only daughters. She was a good queen, he said, and beautiful, too, and she had a very fine golden crown.
    David looked at him in surprise. What did it matter what she had? All that really mattered was that the people of England were free, as people always were in those countries that had kings — or, of course, queens.
    He ate the last mouthful. “I’ve finished, sir. Can I go now?”
    The woman leaned over towards him. “Yes, of course you can. But … David, I would like to