Just Henry

by Michelle Magorian

  ‘The headmaster has informed me,’ said Mr Finch, lowering his voice, ‘that Morgan is forbidden to go anywhere near the piano.’

  Henry was shocked.

  ‘But, sir . . . ’ he protested.

  Mr Finch held up his hand.

  ‘However, I have persuaded Mr Barratt to continue to allow him to turn the music pages for Miss Jessica. But why didn’t you lads tell me? Apparently Mr Barratt’s worried about damage to the keys. What’s that all about? Has Morgan ever . . .?’

  Henry could no longer contain his anger.

  ‘It’s nothing to do with that!’ he exploded. ‘Pip would never damage anything!’

  He wanted to tell him more but was afraid Mr Finch would guess what they were up to and stop them. And then he remembered the words Mr Finch had said to him at the beginning of the term – Morgan is a pupil in my class and he will be treated equally. He decided to take a risk.

  ‘Mr Barratt doesn’t want him near it because he doesn’t want him to play it, sir.’

  Mr Finch’s eyebrows shot up.

  ‘Dodge, are you telling me Morgan can play the piano?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘I see.’ He looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘Right,’ he said firmly. ‘I have expressly told the headmaster that turning pages is all that Morgan will be doing today.’

  ‘Yes, Mr Finch,’ said Henry despondently.

  ‘And as you know, the head will be sitting in the front row with some of our visitors, watching the films in the pitch dark.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘While I will be in charge of the lights at the back of the hall.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Henry, feeling even worse. ‘I’d forgotten about that, sir.’

  ‘Making sure that said lights don’t come up too soon,’ he added meaningfully.

  Henry grinned.

  ‘Is this another of those conversations which never happened, sir?’

  ‘You’re learning, lad. You’re learning.’

  ‘Are you chaps ready to roll?’ Daniel whispered to them.

  ‘Yeah,’ answered Henry and Jeffries, but their voices came out in a croak.

  ‘Nerves of steel, men,’ Daniel commanded and he gave them a wink.

  Pip, however, was beaming.

  ‘He can’t wait to get his hands on that piano,’ muttered Jeffries to Henry.

  The hall had been decorated with drawings of Victorian times. Bits of old velvet were draped everywhere. Two of the girls were taking it in turns to wind up a gramophone and play old music-hall records while everyone was seated. The lights were dimmed, there was the sound of organ music, and the curtains opened to reveal a girl dressed in a Victorian bridal gown. There was a gasp from the audience. So much material after years of rationing was seldom seen outside the cinema. Another girl stepped forward.

  ‘A rich woman’s wedding dress in 1899.’ The third girl in the group appeared in an ordinary dress with a tiny bunch of artificial flowers. ‘A poor woman’s wedding dress in 1899.’

  The confectionery group walked out in front of the audience.

  ‘Only this group to go,’ whispered Henry to Daniel. ‘And then it’s us.’

  They watched the group arrange a selection of colourful old tins on a table as though it were a sweet shop.

  ‘Oh, my goodness!’ cried a woman in the second row, ‘I remember them,’ and she laughed.

  A tiny woman in her nineties stood up and very slowly read an account of her memories about selling sweets in 1899.

  ‘That’s our cue,’ said Jeffries to Pip, and they gave Jessica a nod. She and Pip slipped out of their seats with sheets of music and headed for the piano at the back of the hall. The little light above the keys was already on and Jessica began to play the stirring and melancholy music of a Victorian melodrama.

  Mr Finch and Daniel had taken their places at the back of the hall. Henry and Jeffries walked swiftly backstage and stood behind the curtains. Henry became aware that his hands were shaking. He shoved them hastily into his pockets. In the semi-darkness, he glanced nervously at Jeffries. He smiled and gave Henry a thumbs-up sign and Henry returned it.

  The music ended. They pushed the curtains aside, stepped forward into the light and stood either side of the screen which had been erected for the film. Henry stared out at the audience but all he could see was darkness. What if he forgot what he was supposed to say? If he’d had a piece of paper with the words written on it, he would have had something to do with his hands. His heart pumping, he listened to Jeffries talking about the Lumière brothers and how, in time, other film-makers had hit on the idea of filming a story. And then it was his turn to speak. He swallowed and concentrated on a small spot at the back of the blacked-out hall. As soon as he opened his mouth he was sucked into the dream world of films Daniel had shown him, and his excitement about the magic of the cameras which had captured and created those images seemed to spill out effortlessly.

  He spoke eagerly about early photography and he and Jeffries showed the audience a Victorian stills camera and one of the first movie cameras. Henry was certain that the sight of the large wooden and bronze boxes would be a revelation to those in his form who had only handled a small black box camera.

  ‘We’ve shown you the cameras,’ said Henry.

  ‘And now we’re going to show you the films,’ said Jeffries.

  And they grinned at one another with the knowledge that Pip was about to break a school rule.

  The audience clapped loudly at the end of the films, the lights were turned back on and Mr Barratt made a thank you speech to the elderly guests for coming.

  ‘We did it!’ whispered Henry.

  ‘And he never suspected a thing,’ added Jeffries, stifling a laugh.

  As the guests were escorted from the hall by a group of girls in makeshift Victorian costumes to the cookery room for tea and biscuits, a photographer from the Sternsea Evening News popped his head round the door. It was the same man who had photographed Uncle Bill in August.

  ‘Let’s have you hold your sweet tins in the middle,’ he said to the confectionery trio, ‘nice and close. Now where’s the group with the old cameras?’ He glanced at Henry for an instant and gave him a quick nod of recognition. ‘All look at me. Nice big smiles!’

  After the photographer had left they returned to the classroom, where Mr Finch praised everyone and handed each group a bag of broken toffee. With sweets so difficult to buy, Henry guessed it must have taken Mr Finch months to find.

  The bell rang, he bade them good afternoon and Henry watched his classmates bolt out of the door.

  ‘Are you coming?’ said Jeffries. He was standing next to Pip, who looked as though he were about to explode with excitement.

  ‘In a minute. You go on. I’ll catch you up.’

  He hovered awkwardly by the door watching Mr Finch tidying up.

  ‘Yes, Dodge?’ said Mr Finch, glancing in his direction.

  And Henry couldn’t think of a single thing to say. He stared back at him, struggling to find the right words. And then he knew. He took a deep breath.

  ‘Thank you, sir.’

  PART TWO

  Caught

  1. The informer

  ‘SO? DID IT GO WELL?’ ASKED GRAN.

  ‘Yeah, it did,’ said Henry. ‘We were a grand team. That’s what Mr Finch said, which is good because we nearly weren’t a team at all.’

  ‘Really? Why was that, then?’

  ‘Jeffries and his mother had to leave their lodgings.’ He stared at her intently but she remained silent. ‘If Mrs Beaumont hadn’t let them stay with her, they would have been homeless.’

  ‘Well, that was lucky, wasn’t it?’

  Henry was puzzled. Why didn’t she say anything about her visit to Mrs Beaumont’s house?

  ‘Yeah. And Pip had to leave his lodgings too. If it weren’t for the Plaza, we would have lost him as well. If you haven’t got anywhere to live and you have children, they get taken away.’

 
‘What do you mean about the Plaza?’

  ‘That’s where him and his mum are sleeping.’

  ‘Well I never.’

  ‘Yeah. But we did it, Gran. We did it.’

  ‘Well done, Henry. I’m really proud of you.’

  ‘And tomorrow afternoon we’re all going to see Kidnapped and a Walt Disney film. Me, Jeffries, Pip, his mum, everybody.’

  ‘Lovely,’ said his gran. ‘That’ll give you something to look forward to.’

  Henry waited. But still she said nothing.

  ‘And where’s that showing, then?’ she said after an awkward silence.

  ‘The Plaza.’

  ‘So it’ll be very convenient, won’t it?’

  ‘Yeah, well, Pip’s mum sometimes sees films for free with Pip because she works there.’

  ‘That’ll be nice for her, then, having the company.’

  ‘Yes. It’ll be the first time her and Pip will have seen films with other people.’

  His gran went quiet and Henry had a feeling he had said too much.

  Outside it was pitch black and a thick mist was creeping along the street. It had already obliterated the bombsite opposite. Hastily Henry made for Victoria Road.

  When he arrived he was disappointed to find that Jeffries and his mother had left for the Kings Theatre, but Mrs Beaumont insisted he come in. She looked serious.

  ‘I’m glad we have some time alone,’ she said. ‘I need to talk to you.’

  They sat at the kitchen table. Henry glanced at some freshly typed sheets.

  ‘Not mine,’ she said. ‘Jeffries. Did you know he was writing a novel?’

  Henry shook his head. He had no idea.

  ‘The mob ripped it apart. I’m dictating it to your mother and she’s taking it down in shorthand and typing it up. It’s a Christmas surprise for him.’

  ‘Why didn’t he tell me?’

  ‘You don’t read books. He probably didn’t think you’d be interested.’

  Henry felt uncomfortable.

  ‘Is this what you wanted to tell me? About him writing a book?’

  ‘No. Something rather unpleasant has happened. I haven’t told Jeffries and his mother yet. They’re so happy at the moment, I didn’t want to upset them.’

  ‘What is it? Has Private Jeffries been found?’

  ‘No. I’ve had a surprise visitor. An informer.’

  Immediately Henry remembered the man in the photographs.

  ‘She must have spotted them entering the house,’ Mrs Beaumont said.

  ‘She?’ Henry exclaimed.

  ‘Yes. She came to say that the woman who had moved in here was the wife of a deserter and she felt duty bound, as a good citizen, to tell me. The awful thing was she was so nice about it, as if she was doing me a great favour by giving me the information.’

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘Nothing. That sort don’t give up. If I’d said anything, might have inadvertently provided her with ammunition for later. In fact I wouldn’t be surprised if we have a visit from the military police.’

  ‘Do you think she’s the person who told Mrs Jeffries’ landlady?’

  ‘I’m sure of it.’

  ‘What will you do if they come?’

  ‘Stay calm. Forewarned is forearmed. I need to start looking for a diamond in this dungheap because, believe me, this woman has created one. Let’s hope I’m jumping the gun and they don’t visit us.’

  ‘But you think they will, don’t you?’

  ‘If my suspicions about this woman are correct, yes. It beats me how she found out.’

  ‘When did she visit you?’ Henry asked.

  ‘Last Saturday morning, when Jeffries was at the pictures and his mother was out shopping. She must have been waiting outside. She left minutes before he arrived back here.’

  Henry looked away. He felt sick.

  ‘What did she look like?’ he asked, aware of not wanting to know the answer.

  ‘Dumpy. A bit breathless. On the old side. Oh, and she wore an awful pink hat with a squashed artificial flower stuck on the side.’

  Like the one on top of the wardrobe in the front room at home, Henry thought.

  ‘Don’t be downhearted, Henry. I’ll let Mrs Jeffries know and reassure her that if we do get a visit, it won’t make a jot of difference. I’m determined to have a full house for Christmas this year.’

  Henry knew he couldn’t go home. He struggled through the yellowing mist towards the railway bridge. Once there, he clung to the wall and tried to catch his breath. He felt winded. The fog enveloped him and he was glad of it. He didn’t want to be seen.

  ‘Gran’s an informer,’ he muttered, shaking. ‘She must have overheard me and Mum talking!’

  Suddenly he remembered the clever way she had prised the number of Jeffries’ address out of him and realised why Pip and his mother had been thrown out of their lodgings. He had given her their address too. He could almost hear his grandmother telling the landlady how Mrs Morgan was an unmarried mother, which would explain why the landlady had been so angry.

  He shivered. There was something else his grandmother knew now. She knew where Mrs Morgan and Pip were sleeping every night. He had to warn Pip. But how? He wouldn’t be able to get into the Plaza after it had closed because it would be locked, and it would be too risky to stand outside and shout to them. He remembered the look of terror in Pip’s eyes at the thought of being taken away from his mother.

  ‘Mrs Beaumont!’ he murmured. He’d go back and ask her what to do. But then he remembered she was seeing a film that night. He would have to leave it till the morning.

  Turning to go home, he found himself facing a fog so thick that he couldn’t even see his feet. He clung to the wall and gingerly manoeuvred himself alongside it.

  Not wanting to waste any time getting dressed in the morning, Henry lay fully clothed under the blankets, wishing for the daylight to come. When he woke he was alarmed to find Molly’s bed empty. He leapt out of bed and grabbed his boots. His mother was in the kitchen hoisting a clothes rack above the range. Molly was at the table drawing squiggly circles on a newspaper.

  ‘What time is it?’ he asked anxiously.

  ‘Gone ten. You were in such a deep sleep I didn’t have the heart to wake you.’

  There was no sound coming from the front room.

  ‘Gran’s not listening to the wireless.’

  ‘She’s gone to the shops, I suspect,’ his mother said irritably.

  ‘With her legs?’

  ‘Your gran’s fitter than she makes out.’

  Henry was quite certain she was nowhere near a shop. He ran out of the house and sprinted round to Mrs Beaumont’s house. Mrs Jeffries answered the door. Mrs Beaumont, he was told, was out.

  ‘You’ll see her this afternoon at the Plaza,’ she said. ‘Can’t it wait?’

  No, thought Henry, it can’t.

  He couldn’t think straight. He paced up and down on the pavement in the hope that he would catch sight of Mrs Beaumont coming down the road, but there was no sign of her. In desperation he waited at the foot of the Plaza’s steps. Eventually the huge foyer doors opened, spilling out children. He searched through the thousand or more faces pouring down towards him. But what was he going to say to his friends when he met them? What could he say? My gran is an informer? Tell Pip he was going to be homeless again?

  He spotted Grace waving to him, and her cheerful smile raised his spirits. Jeffries and Pip were jumping down the steps beside her.

  ‘Where were you?’ Grace asked.

  ‘I over-slept.’

  ‘Are you coming back to Mrs Beaumont’s?’ asked Jeffries.

  ‘Yeah. That’s why I thought I’d wait for you out here.’

  But by early afternoon Mrs Beaumont still hadn’t returned and Henry headed back home for dinner. He was dreading seeing his grandmother again. When he entered the kitchen everyone was sitting round the table in silence.

  ‘Sorry I’m late, Mum,’ he mumbled.
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  It was shepherd’s pie and he was starving, but as soon as the food hit the back of his throat he seemed incapable of swallowing it.

  ‘If you’d got back in time,’ said Uncle Bill, ‘it wouldn’t be cold.’

  ‘I’m not hungry,’ Henry muttered. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘You’re not leaving the table till you’ve finished every mouthful.’

  ‘Bill,’ said his mother nervously.

  ‘I won’t have any more money wasted in this house.’

  ‘Daddy cross,’ stated Molly, slamming her spoon down on the table.

  Henry hadn’t seen Uncle Bill so angry in a long time. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed his grandmother looking very pleased with herself.

  ‘I said I was sorry,’ he said quietly.

  ‘And I accept that, Henry,’ said Uncle Bill, ‘but I won’t have good food thrown away. You finish it and that’s that. Come on, Molly, we’ll take a walk.’

  Molly scrambled eagerly off her chair and grabbed hold of her father’s thumb. Henry could see that his mother was distressed. As soon as Uncle Bill and Molly had stepped outside into the yard, his grandmother said, ‘Take no notice of him. You give your dinner to me and I’ll get rid of it.’ And she gave him a conspiratorial smile. Henry stared at her. It was still the same old Gran, the Gran he loved, smiling and friendly. Could he possibly be wrong about her?

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Henry’s mother softly, ‘but if Bill says he has to eat it, then he has to eat it.’

  ‘He’s not his father.’

  ‘More’s the pity.’

  There was an awkward silence.

  ‘What do you mean by that?’ said Gran.

  Henry noticed his mother looking flustered.

  ‘I mean,’ she stammered, ‘that he could have had the same surname as Molly if you hadn’t have interfered.’

  ‘Good job I did, eh, Henry?’

  Henry didn’t reply. He hated being between them when they were arguing. He gazed down at the fast-congealing food on his plate, feeling sick, knowing that if he didn’t eat it, he wouldn’t be meeting Mrs Beaumont at the Plaza.