Paws for Alarm by Marian Babson Page A

think trailing the twins around the tourist traps is fun, why don’t you try it? I’ll swap my feet for your eyes any day!’
    Arnold ground the gears by way of reply and we took a corner much too sharply. I was glad the twins were safely belted down. I was hurled from one side of the back seat to the other as the car plunged down the street like a bucking bronco.
    â€˜For God’s sake ... Arnold ... Ooof! ... find the ... right gear!’
    â€˜It is in the right gear!’ Arnold snarled. ‘There’s something wrong with the car.’
    â€˜Daddy’s driving with the emergency brake on,’ Donald reported in a calm practical tone that was more irritating than shouting would have been.
    Arnold snarled again – wordlessly, fortunately – and wrenched at a knob by his knee. There was a scream of anguished metal and the car immediately dropped into a more sedate progress.
    â€˜And you weren’t sleeping!’ I jeered.
    Arnold deliberately muttered something too low for me to catch and took another corner on two wheels.
    He was driving too fast and veering to the right, but I decided I’d better not say anything more. He could be pushed just so far. It was time to shut up.
    We took the final corner and barrelled along the street as though we were going right past the house. Arnold drove towards the kerb but didn’t slow at all.
    â€˜Stop!’ Donna shouted. ‘Daddy – we’re here. Stop!’
    â€˜I can’t!’ Arnold had gone pale, a fine film of perspiration broke out on his forehead. His knee was jerking frantically as he pumped the brake. ‘It won’t stop.’
    â€˜The clutch –’ I called out. ‘You’ve got to do something to the clutch before you can brake!’
    â€˜The emergency brake,’ Donald shouted. ‘ Now use the emergency brake!’ He grabbed for it.
    I could see cars hurtling past at the end of the street. The traffic light farther on had obviously just changed. If we couldn’t stop, we’d plunge straight out across that stream of moving traffic.
    â€˜Hang on!’ Arnold shouted. ‘I’m going to –’ he turned the steering wheel sharply. We lurched up over the kerb and across the sidewalk. There was a muted impact as we hit the hedge and the car tried to climb it.
    We hung there, halfway up the hedge. Arnold switched off the engine. ‘Christ!’ he muttered. ‘Christ, that was a close one!’
    â€˜The emergency brake didn’t work, Dad,’ Donald informed him unnecessarily. ‘You must have broken it, driving with it on.’
    â€˜Nothing worked!’ Arnold mopped his forehead. ‘I’m going to go back and give those car-hire people hell. They’ve got no right letting a car like this go out on the road.’
    â€˜Oh-oh!’ Donna was looking through the hedge. The porch light had snapped on in the other half of the house. ‘I think we’re in trouble, Dad.’
    We were. Lania stormed down the path and shrieked with dismay as she saw the car hanging from her hedge.
    â€˜See if you can get out, honey,’ Arnold said. ‘Easy now. Then we’ll lift the kids down. The back wheels are still on the ground. Don’t slam the door behind you – we don’t want to rock the boat.
    â€˜Okay.’ I opened the door and slid out cautiously, trying to avoid Lania’s accusing gaze.
    â€˜My hedge!’ Lania wailed. ‘Look at what you’ve done to it!’
    â€˜We’re awfully sorry.’ I was too busy getting the kids to safety to bother glancing at the hedge, although I sure could feel it. The sharp holly points scratched at me as I leaned into it to catch first Donna and lower her to the ground, then Donald.
    â€˜It took years to grow that hedge. Years and now look at it!’
    â€˜I apologize –’ With the children safe, Arnold now opened his own door and scrambled