Johnny Swanson

  ‘But I’m sure they would have told me. I was there yesterday afternoon, remember? They didn’t say anything about going away. In fact, Mrs Langford suggested I should leave my basket and my apron there, since I’d be back again so soon. That’s one of the things I’m worried about. I need my basket. I need my apron. I need my money too. They should pay me on Friday. What if they’re not back by then?’

  ‘They probably will be. And anyway, we’ll manage,’ said Johnny, tempted to tell her about the secret hoard of cash upstairs. ‘I bet you’ll go round in the morning and everything will be just as it should be.’

  ‘Well, let’s hope so. I’m sorry, Johnny. It’s just with the worry about the rent and everything …’ She wiped her eyes on her sleeve. ‘Oh my! Look at the time. I’d better get going or I’ll be late for the pub. There’s some cheese on the windowsill for your tea. Will you be all right?’

  ‘Of course. I’ve got lots of homework to do,’ said Johnny, who wanted to get cracking on his latest brainwave. (Send 2/6 for the Secret of Living to the Year 2000. Full refund guaranteed in the event of failure.)

  ‘You’re such a good boy – working so hard. Now don’t be afraid to turn the light up. We’re not so poor that we can’t afford a drop of oil. I won’t have you ruining your eyes in the dark.’

  ‘Don’t worry about me, Mum. I’ll be fine. You run along, and I’ll come with you in the morning to see what’s going on at the doctor’s. I bet everything will be back to normal.’

  But the next morning the Langfords’ house was still locked up. Before the evening paper round, Johnny wrote a note to Olwen’s parents, wishing them well and asking how to contact her in Wales. He even enclosed a stamped addressed envelope for their reply. He chose a box of toffees for the doctor to take to the sanatorium with the note. Since it was early closing day Hutch was busy in the stockroom, so Johnny put the money for the sweets under the cash register and set off to deliver the papers.

  Johnny knocked on the Langfords’ door, hoping that the doctor would be back, so he could pass over the present for Olwen’s parents. There was no answer, and the shutters were still closed. He posted the newspaper through the letter box. It was too high for him to look through, so he couldn’t tell whether the previous day’s papers had been picked up. Johnny wondered where the Langfords could have gone, but then another thought struck him. What if they were inside, locked in? Suppose they were sick, or even dead? He clambered onto a window ledge, and tried to climb the drainpipe to look in upstairs. The pipe wobbled and pulled away from the wall. As he struggled to keep his balance, he felt a sharp blow across his back. It was Miss Dangerfield’s walking stick.

  ‘Got you! You little burglar,’ she said as he dropped to the ground.

  Johnny tried to explain. ‘I’m not breaking in, Miss Dangerfield. I’m not a thief. I’m worried about the Langfords. There’s no sign of them. I thought they might be trapped inside.’

  ‘Trapped inside? Don’t give me that! You know they’re not there. You wanted to get in and steal something while they’re away.’

  ‘Are they away?’ said Johnny.

  ‘That’s no more any of my business than it’s any of yours.’

  ‘But it is my business in a way,’ said Johnny. ‘They haven’t cancelled their papers.’

  She prodded him with her stick. ‘Now get up. And talking of papers, get on with delivering them. Have you got mine?’

  Johnny opened his bag to get Miss Dangerfield’s copy of the Evening Echo. She spotted the toffees nestling alongside. ‘And how do you explain these?’ she asked, grabbing the box. ‘Where did you get them? Stolen from Mr Hutchinson’s shop, I shouldn’t wonder!’

  ‘No. I paid for them. I was bringing them to Dr Langford.’

  ‘What! You were giving the doctor a present? Credit me with some intelligence!’

  ‘No, they’re not for him. They’re for a friend. Well, for her parents actually.’

  ‘Oh, really? And what’s the name of these people?’

  Johnny realized he’d never known Olwen’s surname. ‘I’m not sure—’

  ‘Ha! You’re not sure. You’re giving a box of expensive sweets to people you don’t know! You expect me to believe that?’ She steered him towards the gate, bashing his legs with her cane. ‘Come with me. I’m taking you back to the shop.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Silence! You can explain yourself to Mr Hutchinson. He’s got a telephone down there, hasn’t he? I may even ask him to call the police.’

  She marched Johnny down the hill, and battered on the door of the shop. Hutch unlocked it and let her in. Miss Dangerfield slammed the box of toffees down on the counter.

  ‘Proof!’ she cried. ‘I tried to tell you the other day. I said this boy was up to no good, and I was right. I caught him climbing into the doctor’s house, and now this. He’s been stealing from you as well.’

  Hutch picked up the box and looked up to the shelf. There was indeed a gap in the display.

  ‘But I paid for them, Hutch!’ Johnny croaked through the tears he had been fighting all the way to the shop. ‘I tried to tell her. I paid for them. They’re mine.’

  Miss Dangerfield looked at Hutch. ‘Is that true? Did you sell them to him?’

  Hutch fumbled with the box. ‘To be honest, I don’t remember doing that.’

  ‘It’s a police matter,’ said Miss Dangerfield. ‘The boy should be locked up.’

  Johnny, still crying, was trying to explain. ‘You were in the stockroom,’ he sniffed. ‘I had to go on the paper round, so I took them—’

  ‘What did I tell you!’ cried Miss Dangerfield.

  ‘I took them, but I put the money under the till. It’s probably still there now.’

  ‘A likely story!’ scoffed Miss Dangerfield as Hutch ran his hand along the counter and found the two-shilling piece.

  ‘Here it is!’ he said with relief.

  ‘Ha!’ said Miss Dangerfield. ‘A trick. The boy’s even more devious than I thought.’

  Hutch took control. He opened the shop door. ‘Thank you, madam, I’m sure you were only trying to help, but I will deal with things from here. Leave the boy with me, and I will talk to him.’

  ‘You should sack him. Don’t forget, I saw him breaking into the Langfords’—’

  ‘I will ask him about that too,’ said Hutch in a polite, but firm, tone. ‘Goodnight, now, Miss Dangerfield. I really must close the shop.’

  She left, mumbling complaints, and Hutch bolted the door. Johnny expected him to laugh about the old woman, but he was furious.

  ‘After all I’ve done for you! After all that. She says she caught you red-handed. You were trying to break in.’

  ‘I wasn’t. I was trying to have a look to see if something had happened to the Langfords. Their house is all locked up.’

  ‘So? Maybe they’ve gone away for a few days.’

  ‘Why didn’t they say they were going?’

  ‘How should I know?

  ‘Suppose they’re locked in? Suppose they’re sick or something?’

  Hutch was getting exasperated. ‘Don’t be daft. He’s a doctor. And they’ve got a telephone. What are the chances of them being stranded inside their own house? You’re just letting your imagination run away with you. Miss Dangerfield was right about one thing. It’s none of your business.’ He took a deep breath. He looked stern. ‘Now, I’ve promised her I’ll deal with the matter.’

  ‘No!’ Johnny’s nose began to run. ‘No! Don’t sack me, Hutch. Please.’ He looked at Hutch with desperate pleading in his streaming eyes.

  Hutch was calming down. ‘I’m not going to sack you, but I’m taking you off that part of the paper round, and I’m knocking sixpence off your pay. I’ll deliver Miss Dangerfield’s papers myself until the Langfords get back and all this blows over. You keep away from there.’

  ‘All right,’ said Johnny.

  Hutch handed him the box. ‘You’d better take these. But remember, you’re not going to hav
e so much money in future. You certainly won’t be able to spend it on fancy sweets.’

  ‘They weren’t for me,’ said Johnny, and he explained about Olwen’s family at the sanatorium, and how the sweets had been a present.

  Hutch’s mood softened. ‘And you paid for them out of your own money?’

  Johnny sniffed. ‘Yes,’ he said, letting Hutch believe he had been saving up his wages.

  ‘Well, that’s very good of you, Johnny,’ said Hutch, handing over his handkerchief so that Johnny could dry his eyes. ‘I’m impressed. I think Miss Dangerfield has misjudged you, and if there’s one thing I can’t stand it’s people making false accusations. But you keep away from her – and from the Langfords’ house until they get back. She might go straight to the police next time, and trouble with the police is the last thing your family needs at the moment.’ Hutch put the toffees back on the shelf, and gave Johnny his two shillings. ‘Charity begins at home, son,’ he said. ‘Give this to your mother, if you feel you can spare it. Now, get off home, and don’t be late tomorrow.’

  Johnny was almost exhausted with relief, but he ran home, hoping to catch Winnie before she left on her long walk to the pub. He met her as she was closing the front door, and he walked with her, trying to explain what had happened before she heard about it from Miss Dangerfield. Winnie understood how horrible it was for Johnny, being accused of something he hadn’t done, and why he’d wanted to see in through the Langfords’ upstairs windows, but she was angry with him for climbing and breaking the drainpipe.

  ‘It was a stupid thing to do,’ she said. ‘Dangerous too. That house looks good, but everything’s starting to fall apart. If you wanted to look in upstairs, you should have gone up a tree or something.’

  ‘I still could,’ said Johnny, inspired by Winnie’s throwaway remark.

  ‘But you can’t risk being seen by Mrs Dangerfield. She’d be back at the post office complaining about you all over again.’

  ‘Not if you come with me. She wouldn’t dare tell me off if you were there.’ Johnny was getting excited about his plan. ‘Come on. You want to know what’s inside too, don’t you? Let’s go together.’

  ‘What, now?’ said Winnie, startled. ‘But it’s dark. And it will still be dark before you go to school in the morning.’

  ‘All right then – later tomorrow. When it’s light. I’ll get out of school at dinner time. Meet me at the Langfords’ and I’ll climb a tree in the garden and tell you what I see.’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ said Winnie. ‘I’ll sleep on it.’

  She did, and in the end her concern over her basket, her apron, and whether she would ever get her wages over-rode her natural caution. Johnny climbed an old pear tree. He’d hardly had time to steady himself before he heard the sound of a sash window opening. But the noise was coming from over the road.

  ‘You boy!’ shouted Miss Dangerfield. ‘You, boy, get away from there!’

  ‘Oh no,’ said Winnie, quivering with fear. ‘You’d better come down, Johnny. She’s seen you.’

  ‘Just a minute, Mum,’ said Johnny. ‘I’m up here now. I might as well carry on. You pretend you’re angry with me, and I’ll stay up here till I’ve had a good look.’

  So Winnie started shouting at Johnny while he clambered through the branches, looking into the Langfords’ house. He tried to sound as if he was answering back rudely, but he was really giving Winnie a running commentary on what he could see. They made a good team, but all Johnny had to report on was a row of empty bedrooms and a tidy study.

  ‘Well, that was a waste of time,’ said Winnie as they strode back towards the gate. ‘I feel terrible now. That was really wrong, looking in someone’s windows. We’ll just have to accept that the Langfords have taken off without paying me. Maybe they’ll explain it all if they ever come back, but until then, Hutch wants you to stay away from here, and so do I. Promise me you will.’

  ‘All right. I promise.’

  ‘Good boy,’ said Winnie, taking his hand. ‘We’ll just put all this behind us.’

  Miss Dangerfield was still watching from an upstairs room, muttering to herself about ‘that Swanson woman’. It seemed that she was just as bad as her nasty little son.

  Chapter 16

  THE CLONG

  The weekend came and went, and the Langfords were still away. Nobody apart from Johnny and Winnie seemed bothered, so Johnny decided to use his new advertising skills to try to find them. He was already intrigued by the ‘personal columns’ in the newspapers, where people put in strange messages that meant nothing to anyone but themselves. He’d seen: Masham. Contact Dawkins. Something to your advantage, and, Cad. I don’t care. So there. Flopsy. Now he composed one of his own: Langford. Please contact Swanson. Worried. At threepence a word, he had to drop something to get the cost down to a shilling. He decided to lose the ‘please’, but keep ‘worried’, which he had already substituted for ‘urgent’. Even at a shilling it was expensive compared with his other adverts, because of course it wasn’t going to bring in any money. He knew from his deliveries that the Langfords read the Stambleton Echo and the London Times. He put his advert in the London paper, since they could get that anywhere, and he was pretty sure they weren’t in Stambleton.

  A fortnight later, there was no response.

  But the rest of Johnny’s advertising business was booming. Letters were still coming in from the lovelorn and the poets, one of whom was now writing to ‘PO Box 9’ with a new creation, and two shillings, every few days. A new advertisement – Make Your Shoes Last Twice as Long – was a big hit in a Norfolk newspaper. There were no complaints about the answer: Hop everywhere. Remember to change legs.

  The rabbit on top of the wardrobe was becoming quite heavy with money. One Tuesday in December, almost a month after the Langfords had disappeared, Johnny thought he would cheer up his mother on her night off from the pub by spending some of his cash on a cake for tea. He told Hutch that Auntie Ada was paying for it, but he planned to knock it about a bit on the way home, and pretend to Winnie that Hutch had sent it because it was damaged and would otherwise be thrown away.

  Both Hutch and his mother had forbidden him to approach the doctor’s house, and for weeks Johnny had gone home the long way round; but tonight it was raining and the wind was rising, and he couldn’t resist taking his old route past the Langfords’. The days were so short now that it was dark whenever he wasn’t at school, and he was sure that in the bad weather Miss Dangerfield wouldn’t be outside to spot him, even if she still cared what he did.

  Did he imagine the light? He walked up the hill into the December gale, with his head down most of the time to keep the sharp sleet out of his eyes. But he looked up now and then, trying to make out the shape of the Langfords’ house against the moonless sky. He’d always thought that the house must have been built by someone who’d made up the plans as he went along. From one side it appeared to have four floors; from another, only two. Wings stuck out in all directions, each with its roof sloping at a different angle. By day it was easy to spot the house, but in the dark, with nobody home, nothing was clear.

  But maybe the Langfords were back? Johnny was sure, even from halfway down the hill, that he saw a glow in one of the upstairs windows. He started running towards it, but it was gone. Then it was back again, lower down now, and moving. He caught a glimpse of a silhouette. Was it a person, or the shape of one of the branches between him and the house, bouncing in the strengthening wind? He ran to the front gate. Usually it squeaked as it opened, but tonight the sound couldn’t be heard above the din of the storm. There was a noise from the back of the house. Was it a car, or another blast of wind? The gale was so strong now that Johnny struggled simply to walk forward, clutching the cake inside his coat; trying to keep it dry.

  He banged on the front door. There was no answer, and the shutters were still closed across the windows, but he had a feeling that something had changed – that someone had been there just before him. The drift of leaves that
had collected on the front step over the past month had almost disappeared. Had it been blown away by the storm, or had somebody kicked it aside to open the door?

  Johnny thumped again, rang the bell, and waited. But nobody came, so he set off for home, still protecting the cake, and bursting to tell his mother that someone might have been inside.

  He arrived dripping wet and full of babble. Winnie stood silently by the table as he jabbered about what he thought he had seen. At first he didn’t notice that she wasn’t speaking – that she didn’t seem to be taking in what he was saying about the Langfords and the light. Then he sensed that she was angry. Of course! She had told him not to go there. She must be cross. He stopped talking. She still just stood and stared down at the table.

  It was laid for three. That was strange. They never had visitors. It was always just the two of them, if that. More often these days they each ate alone, because Winnie was out at work so much. Johnny looked around. There was no one else in the room.

  ‘Is someone coming to supper?’ he asked. Then he saw a chance to get back his mother’s favour – he unbuttoned his coat and took out the cake. ‘What a stroke of luck!’ he said. ‘Hutch gave me this as I was leaving the shop. He was throwing it out because – well, you can see. It’s got a bit squashed. No one would want to buy that now, would they?’ He knew he was talking too much – saying too many words too quickly to sound as casual and convincing as he wanted to. But at least the cake really was soggy and deformed after its journey home in the rain.

  Winnie still said nothing.

  Johnny felt he had to fill the gap. ‘Who’s coming, Mum? Who’s the extra place for?’

  ‘Can’t you guess?’ said Winnie, in a voice laced with a bitterness Johnny seldom heard.

  Johnny was stumped. How could he know who she’d invited to share their meal?