Where have you been Ronnie? I've been so worried again.You've been away for three whole hours. I really will be glad when these holidays are over.Such a job having to manage alone.You are delicate boy.I've told you so, many times.Thąt's what Dr Chambers sajd to me."He's a delicate boy, Mrs Nashe," he said.And there you go running round the village.When your father was alive The boy said nothing as he sat down by the kitchen table.His mother's voice droned on.Soon he knew it would rise to a hysterical pitch.Then she would start crying
and come and hug him and tell him how much he meant to her.Ronnie looked up at her.
Why does she never smile?Perhaps it is all this work.The dishes, cooking, making the beds, The wrinkies on her face háve.got so deep and made her look so ugly.Since dad died, her hair has turned grey and she is getting fat.Why doesn't she try, to understand and be like other mothers?Ronnie looked out of the window and shut out his mother's words.
Switching off he called it.He was used to thinking to himself against this background of words."Words, words, words. Did they really mean anything? What did the mountain care about words? Imagine being able to see a whole mountain out of your kitchen window! How manykitchen windows had mountains in them, Ronnie wondered.
Now that the sun was setting, the lower slopes becams deep purple. It was the moment Ronnie loved best. Soon it would be dark and the whole mountain would become first a shadow and then nothing. But the sun would bring it back again in the Soon morning. In the morning, he would try again. This time... The morning sun gleamed on the hard brown rocks and on the trees below which completely hid the valley. Ronnie looked "disap up at the overhanging ledge above him Down the middle coul d he fe behin easy of it ran a deep crack which looked like
a streák of lighting which had been turned into stone. This was what the villagers called the bad step which, led to the summit. 'Ronnie had never gone beyond this point. Now or
never, thought Ronnie as he reached up for the jagged piece of rock that jutéd out above his head. The rock was firm and Ronnie pulled himself on to it. Then he looked round trying to decide which would be the best way up. Just to the rigkt of him there was a small stone wedged firm in the crack. He tésted it with his foot. As it did not meve, he pressed on it with his whole weight. The stone slithered away silently and Ronnie's foot remained firmly wedged in the crack. He clung desperately to the rock hardly daring to breathe. His hands félt wet and sticky and sweat trickled into his eyes. The ledge shut out the sun. Everything was suddenly cold and dark and the mountain seemed to be pushing
him away from the rock-face with all its might. Ronnie rested there motionless for what seemed hours. After he had regained his breath, he pushed his left knee into the crack and freed his foot. Soon, without 'even realizing how he was doing it, he was clambering up the crack like a mountain goat. He mever once dared to look up. Suddenly, the crack became a thread and then /disappeared altogether. For the first, Romie raised his head. He could hardly believe it: he had reached the top! In the bright sunlight, Ronnie trembied uncontrollably but he felt happy. He sat above the ledge and looked round. Just behind him he saw the path which led to the village. This was the easy' way up. At least he would not climb down that dreadful crack. Below, he could see the whole village. There was the main street, and yes, there was his house! What was his mother doing now, he wondered. Mrs Nashe had just finished sweeping the parlour. I must not get so anxious, she thought. I must try and be nicer to Ronnie. He doesn't even speak to me any more. l nag him too much, I knew. But he's so delicate. Still, I can try. I'll just tidy my hair before he comes in.
She was still sitting at her dressing-table when Ronnie arrived. He broke into a smile when she turned round: she
and come and hug him and tell him how much he meant to her.Ronnie looked up at her.
Why does she never smile?Perhaps it is all this work.The dishes, cooking, making the beds, The wrinkies on her face háve.got so deep and made her look so ugly.Since dad died, her hair has turned grey and she is getting fat.Why doesn't she try, to understand and be like other mothers?Ronnie looked out of the window and shut out his mother's words.
Switching off he called it.He was used to thinking to himself against this background of words."Words, words, words. Did they really mean anything? What did the mountain care about words? Imagine being able to see a whole mountain out of your kitchen window! How manykitchen windows had mountains in them, Ronnie wondered.
Now that the sun was setting, the lower slopes becams deep purple. It was the moment Ronnie loved best. Soon it would be dark and the whole mountain would become first a shadow and then nothing. But the sun would bring it back again in the Soon morning. In the morning, he would try again. This time... The morning sun gleamed on the hard brown rocks and on the trees below which completely hid the valley. Ronnie looked "disap up at the overhanging ledge above him Down the middle coul d he fe behin easy of it ran a deep crack which looked like
a streák of lighting which had been turned into stone. This was what the villagers called the bad step which, led to the summit. 'Ronnie had never gone beyond this point. Now or
never, thought Ronnie as he reached up for the jagged piece of rock that jutéd out above his head. The rock was firm and Ronnie pulled himself on to it. Then he looked round trying to decide which would be the best way up. Just to the rigkt of him there was a small stone wedged firm in the crack. He tésted it with his foot. As it did not meve, he pressed on it with his whole weight. The stone slithered away silently and Ronnie's foot remained firmly wedged in the crack. He clung desperately to the rock hardly daring to breathe. His hands félt wet and sticky and sweat trickled into his eyes. The ledge shut out the sun. Everything was suddenly cold and dark and the mountain seemed to be pushing
him away from the rock-face with all its might. Ronnie rested there motionless for what seemed hours. After he had regained his breath, he pushed his left knee into the crack and freed his foot. Soon, without 'even realizing how he was doing it, he was clambering up the crack like a mountain goat. He mever once dared to look up. Suddenly, the crack became a thread and then /disappeared altogether. For the first, Romie raised his head. He could hardly believe it: he had reached the top! In the bright sunlight, Ronnie trembied uncontrollably but he felt happy. He sat above the ledge and looked round. Just behind him he saw the path which led to the village. This was the easy' way up. At least he would not climb down that dreadful crack. Below, he could see the whole village. There was the main street, and yes, there was his house! What was his mother doing now, he wondered. Mrs Nashe had just finished sweeping the parlour. I must not get so anxious, she thought. I must try and be nicer to Ronnie. He doesn't even speak to me any more. l nag him too much, I knew. But he's so delicate. Still, I can try. I'll just tidy my hair before he comes in.
She was still sitting at her dressing-table when Ronnie arrived. He broke into a smile when she turned round: she
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