“Sorry, did I startle you?”
“That’s all right.” The voice had gone away.
“Jamie, tomorrow afternoon, Mummy and I are coming to take you home for tea and a game with Laddie. I saved it for last so you won’t be sad when I leave.”
“Goodie, I can’t hardly wait!”
They walked slowly back to the sunroom, as slowly as Jamie could make it. Just outside the door Rosie kissed his cheek. He’d never wash that little patch where the kiss belonged.
“See you tomorrow. Bye.”
“Bye-bye, Rosie, bye-bye.”
* * *
Jamie could just see George in the moonlight. He wasn’t asleep yet.
“George, you know what? I felt like I knew Graham once upon a time. But I never did know a Graham before. And then one morning, my eyes were a bit closed and I thought it was my cousin Roy. But I thought it couldn’t be. But it was. He hit his toe and said a bad word, a Roy word, so I knew then. He says he’s in disguise because people are after him. I promised not to tell, but I can tell you because you can’t talk.”
George grunted.
“And that Bernhardt. I heard him on the telephone in Mrs. Clancy’s office. He was talking funny words. And I heard him say a place on the farm where I used to work. I hope he’s not Mr. Lake’s friend. Mr. Lake is a very nasty man and he hates me.” He jumped. “What was that?”
A long, squeaky noise, sounded as if it were just outside their door, and then a strange bump. Jamie got out of bed. George grunted, moving his mouth and hands, didn’t want Jamie to go.
“All right, George, I won’t do anything silly. I expect the door’s locked, anyway.”
Jamie turned the knob. Not locked. Exciting things sometimes happened when you went out of doors when you weren’t supposed to. Exciting things weren’t always good things, though. But exciting did feel nice for a while. He turned to George and put a finger to his lips. He peeked around the door. He almost made a surprise noise when he saw new stairs coming down from a secret door in the ceiling and then Bernhardt climbing up them holding a box under his arm before disappearing through that high door. George gave a little grunt and Jamie knew what he meant. Mustn’t get caught. He closed the door quietly and got back into bed. He told George what he’d seen.
“Shhhh, shhhh,” George managed to get out.
George was right. He should mind his own business. Keep his mouth shut, about absolutely everything.
10
The sun wasn’t out yet, but at least the rain stayed away. Manor day today, a wonderful day. He’d play with Laddie, help Mr. Evans, and have a nice walk with Rosie. And a big tea. There’d be scones with cream and jam. Perhaps a cake. Even thinking about his stolen chocolates couldn’t make him sad today.
Jamie got out of bed and went into the bathroom. He needed extra time, so he must get in there before the others. He’d got to have a special wash this morning. He started on his teeth, always liked to get that done first. A scream startled him, made him stop brushing for a moment. Most probably one of the boys being bad. He heard their door open.
“Jamie, where are you?”
“In the bathroom.”
He put his head around the door and saw Neville lifting George out of bed.
“Can I have some extra time? I’m going out to tea. I’ve got to be really, really clean.”
“Take as much time as you like. Just get out of there for a few minutes so I can put George on the toilet. Then you’re all to stay in your rooms.”
“Why?”
“Never you mind.”
Jamie sat on the edge of his bed. The scream. Someone hurt. Would they let me go out to Rosie’s? Must let me go. He felt disappointment rising up his throat and swallowed it down. Nothing bad happened yet, so wait before being sorry. Silly to be sad for nothing. But still.
“Fiddle-faddle!”
“What?” Neville’s voice got high when he was upset, like now.
“Nothing. Did Alan come back and hurt someone?” Jamie hoped he’d never see that awful boy again.
“No, he didn’t hurt anyone. Now, no more questions.”
Neville wheeled George back into the room and left. Jamie heard him lock the door, just like Roy did that time the bombs came down. At least Jamie could get on with his wash.
It was hard, washing all of a big boy with nothing but a little warm water in a basin. He started with his face and rinsed, all except the kissed patch. Then rubbed his underarms hard and rinsed. He got one foot up and in, and that was hard because he wasn’t very good at balancing. Then he dried it and got the other foot up. The water was very soapy now. He wondered where the dirt went. Inside the soap? But then the soap got on him again when he washed the next bit. Perhaps the dirt just got more spread out. He soaped his willy and his bottom. That sometimes made him feel funny, so he closed his eyes and thought of boiled cabbage, and that kept everything in order.
Roy came in the bathroom once when his willy had got big from the washing, and he laughed and laughed. Said he didn’t know Jamie had it in him. When Jamie asked what he didn’t know he had in him, he laughed even more. Sometimes Jamie woke up with it that way, but he knew he mustn’t touch. Gran had caught him playing with it once. He only did it because it felt nice and tingly, but she said it was wicked and dirty and he must never touch unless he had to for toilet or washing. So he didn’t. Nearly never.
He hated the idea of people watching him wash. Boys here didn’t understand much about being clean. It was very important. Especially to girls, because they hated smelly boys, he’d heard Gran tell Roy a long time ago. Lately, even Roy spent ages in the bathroom before he took a girl out to the flicks. Alan didn’t wash much. There were a lot of things about Alan he hated. Gran said he mustn’t hate people, but she didn’t know Alan. Alan is wicked and God should punish him. Gran said wicked people went to Hell after they died to be punished. Why didn’t God punish them before they died? Then they could learn to do better. He should ask. But ask who?
George seemed sleepy and Jamie was too excited to read. They waited for a long time before Neville came back and said they could go downstairs.
Breakfast passed very quietly. Unusually, all three attendants stood around the room, silent except for a word here and there to tell the boys what to do and not to do. When they went to the common room, Jamie made sure he was last. He stopped by Bernhardt, who always stood by the huge brown door, holding the key in the same hand that held the list tight to his chest.
“What’s happened?”
“You’ll be told when Mrs. Clancy permits. Go and read your book.”
In his excitement, Jamie had left his book in his room. What would he do all morning? He went and stood at the window. If he stood on his toes he could just see the road. There was a long van, a white one. Two men carried a long board and something lay on it under a white sheet, something that broke, most likely. The van moved off and he watched it appear and disappear between the big old trees as it went on its way.
He’d try his hand at the paints.
* * *
After lunch, Mrs. Clancy came over to Jamie with a man.
“Jamie, this is Detective Inspector Falway. He needs to ask you about your chocolates.”
“Why, did you find them?” That would be a very good thing, especially if no one had nibbled on them.
“Not exactly,” the man said.
“What’s your name? Forgot. Sorry. Didn’t mean to.” Pay attention, or people would think he was stupid and then he’d never get out of this place.
“Falway. You can call me D.I. Falway.”
“All right.” Must answer nicely, must be allowed to go out.
“Tell me about your present. The one you got yesterday.”
“Maureen gave it to me. It was all wrapped up. Came in the post, you see. It was chocolates. A box of Cadbury’s. My favorites.”
“Who do you think sent them?”
“Dunno. Don’t know, I mean. There wasn’t a card.
And Maureen said there wasn’t anyone’s name on the outside.”
“Who knows you like chocolates?”
Why all these chocolate questions? “I don’t know a lot of people. Rosie knows. But I asked her, and she said it wasn’t her that sent them.”
“Rosie?”
“That would be Miss Rosamund McInnis, Sir Geoffrey McInnis’s daughter,” said Mrs. Clancy. “The family takes an interest in the boy. Here she is now. He’s to go to them for the afternoon.”
“Hello, Rosie,” said Jamie. “I’m ready. This is D.I. Way.”
“Detective Inspector Falway. You’re Miss McInnis?” he asked.
“Yes, is there a problem?”
“We’re just trying to clear up a mystery. Jamie received some chocolates in the post yesterday. Did you send them?”
“No. If I had chocolates for him, I would have brought them in myself,” Rosie said in a bossy voice Jamie hadn’t heard before.
“Said it wasn’t her!” Jamie wanted to go. All these questions, time to leave.
“Inspector, why do you ask?” said Rosie.
“Just an ongoing investigation, Miss McInnis. Nothing to worry about.”
“I see. Will there be anything else?”
“No, miss, that’s all for the time being. Have a nice afternoon,” he said.
Rosie nodded her head at him and turned her back. Funny she hadn’t asked more questions. She knew she was better than him, Jamie could tell by the way she acted. Rosie was a person who knew her place. And she knew other people’s places. Gran always said people should know their place in the world and stick to it. She’d explained best she could about posh and poor, but it meant more than some people having more money than other people. It also seemed to mean who was better and who wasn’t, but in funny sorts of ways. Of course Rosie was better than Jamie and had more money, too, but she never acted like it around him. She didn’t have a job, so he supposed she used Sir Geoffrey’s money, like Roy used Gran’s if she had any to spare. Even if she didn’t. Did that make Rosie poor? He’d tried talking to her about class, but could see talking about it made her uncomfortable, so he’d better leave it alone for the time being.
People act their place more than they talk about it, and they need watching. What they say doesn’t tell you what’s really in their head. If only people would answer his questions properly.
* * *
Lady Audrey drove the car and let Jamie sit in the front seat next to her. She smelled nice like Rosie did, only different. She gave him a big smile. She was very pretty, in an older sort of way, much prettier than proper old, of course. She was what Gran used to call a carrot-head. They’d had one living next door. Gran said that carrot-heads are nearly always bad-tempered, but Lady Audrey wasn’t. Not a bit.
“It’s lovely to see you again,” she said. She sounded as if she meant it, her voice going up at the end as if she was having a treat.
“Today is a very good day,” said Jamie.
Rosie told her mother about D. I. Falway’s visit. She said she hadn’t asked questions, didn’t want him to think she was too interested. Lady Audrey said it might have been something to do with the black market. Odd someone would mail the box to Jamie, who said he’d never seen a black market.
“Can we go see it?” Jamie asked.
Lady Audrey replied the black market wasn’t a place. “I’ll explain later.” Her mouth corners twitched like people’s do when they want to laugh. He wished people would explain when he’d said something they thought was funny, because that usually meant he got it wrong, and he’d like it better if he could get it right.
* * *
Laddie gave Jamie such a big welcome he could hardly get out of the car. His yellow body wriggled and jumped, until he suddenly dashed off. Why would Laddie run away from him? The dog appeared again, this time with a tennis ball in his mouth. He dropped it at Jamie’s feet. Not running away, just getting his toy.
“You two play with Laddie for a bit. I’ll let you know when tea’s ready,” said Lady Audrey. Cook could just as well let them know. Jamie had spent a fair amount of time in the kitchen, and he’d never seen Lady Audrey do the bread and butter or put a cake in the oven.
They threw the ball until even the dog was tired. Jamie loved Laddie and wanted him to be happy, but he hated it when the ball got slimy. And his breath wasn’t too nice these days because it smelled fishy. Rosie didn’t seem to mind the slime, simply wiped her hand down her skirt. He could see the streaks. Would her mum be cross and make her change for tea?
“Where’s Mr. Evans?” asked Jamie.
“In the greenhouse, I shouldn’t wonder,” said Rosie.
They found the old man watering his seedlings.
“Well, if it isn’t young Jamie! Wan’ t’ do some waterin’?”
“Oh yes. Please.”
“Here’s a can for yer. Fill it up at yon tap.” The old man gestured with his chin.
“I’ll help you with that, Jamie. It gets heavy when there’s water in it,” said Rosie.
“Oh, I’m very strong. But if you want.” People liked it when you needed their help. Even though he didn’t.
He did need her help after all, but didn’t say so. How could splishy-splashy water be so heavy? There were rows and rows of little plants to be seen to, and Jamie’s arms felt very achy. After the watering was finished, Rosie rubbed the tops of her arms. Good, she wasn’t any stronger than him. Evans showed Jamie how he thinned the seedlings.
“Got to have room to grow. Got to be plenty of food and water for the ones we keep. Pinch ’em just so. You do a couple, now.”
Evans watched and guided; make nimble fingers and gentle fingers, don’t take too many, give them breathing room.
“It’s sad,” said Jamie after he’d worked through a couple of trays.
“How so, lad?”
“The ones we pinch. They never get a chance. They might’ve grown up strong.”
Evans straightened up and squinted at Jamie. “Tha’s the way of the world.”
“I think I hear Mummy calling,” said Rosie. “It’s time to go in for tea. There’s a cake today in your honor.”
“In my what?”
“Just for you, because we’re happy you’re here.”
Jamie looked around the breakfast room as he ate. He looked at all the pictures to stitch them down in his memory, smiled as he looked out over the garden, and hardly said a word. This was his place in the world—white tablecloths and serviettes, cake, pictures, gardens, and lovely people and Laddie. Rosie. When he was too full to eat even another crumb, he closed his eyes and sighed. He felt his smile sliding away as the goodbye time closed in. Had to leave soon.
Rosie kissed the other cheek. That way he could keep his face cleaner. Just make sure she kissed the other side each time. Her soft lips didn’t feel real, more like something out of a dream.
That night, Jamie stared up at the ceiling and thought over his day at the Manor. A special day. He let his mind travel around the breakfast room and stop at each picture. He liked the one with the sheep best. A boy and a dog just like Laddie sat under a tree near the sheep. That boy looked a bit like Jamie. He had a cheerful face and carried a sort of pipe in his hands, a pipe that made music, Rosie said. Jamie could see how making music would be a happy thing to do. And also being with sheep and a Laddie dog, those were happy things, too.
Graham, being Roy now, finished putting George to bed and sat down by Jamie.
“Jamie, did you tell anyone else what you told me?”
“What did I tell you?”
“You know, about your Gran and the blanket and our row.” Roy sounded all wound up, his voice sharp and thin.
“Oh, that. No, I’m tired of that. It’s a long time ago. There’s no one to tell except Rosie. I don’t tell Rosie bad things in case she cries. Except when Alan hurt me and stole my chocolates. I did tell her about that … Why?”
“Well, it’s something you should keep to yourself. People might
not believe you. They might think you’re not quite right.”
“They know I’m not quite right. I’m slow. That’s why I’m here.” Roy could be slow himself sometimes.
“No, I mean, a bit mad, crazy. It’s a crazy story.”
“You think I’m crazy? Don’t go telling people I’m crazy!” Then they’d never let him go. Roy could do that; he was mean enough to do that. The fear crept up on him, the fear that was never far behind, just waiting behind him for the next bad thing.
“’Course not. Only I know you, and other people might think different. So, be a good chap. Just between us. Anything else you want to tell me?”
“Well there is the door in the ceiling.”
“What door?”
“Outside this room. A door in the ceiling with stairs coming out of it. I saw Bernhardt carry a box up there. Then I went back to bed. He’d’ve got me in trouble if he seen me watching. But I heard a noise, see, that’s what made me go and look.”
“You didn’t see him come down?”
“No, like I said, I went back to bed.” He had to tell Roy things so many times, maybe he truly was slow in his own way.
“Jamie, that’s another thing to keep quiet about. You’d get in big trouble if anyone heard about it. Bernhardt was probably going up there to fix a leak. The box probably had his tools in it. You know, a toolbox. Don’t say a word, not to no one. Promise?”
“Promise.” If it was that important, maybe he should tell someone. The right sort of someone. Wait and see.
“G’night.” Not so wound up now.
“Goodnight, Graham.”
Roy was smiling, looked as if he just got a big present. Funny things going on in this place. The Manor didn’t have goings on, much better that way. Smoother.
George twisted towards Jamie and grunted as though something hurt him.
“Don’t worry, George, I’ll be ever so careful.”
* * *
Roy lowered himself to the ground, leaned against the big oak in the back pasture, and popped out his cheek pads. He had plenty of fags, thanks to no one but his own clever self. He loved every bit of smoking. The smell as he struck the match, the first taste of the smoke, the first little dizzy hit. He closed his eyes and took the first drag.
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