Just Henry

by Michelle Magorian

  By now Henry’s mouth was so dry that he had a tickle in his throat and he noticed that his hands were shaking. He was terrified he would cough and be caught in the act. He willed himself to remain calm, peered through the viewfinder and pressed the button. The shutter clicked noisily into action. And still they slept.

  He moved closer, winding the film on and changing the distance to four feet, stepped a little to one side so that he didn’t block the light from the window and took the last photograph on the roll of film. Swiftly he moved back to his rucksack, folded the bellows and snapped the camera shut, slipped it into the leather case and placed Molly’s cardigan over it. He was just about to put the pot back in when Molly’s eyes suddenly sprang open and she gave a scream. Henry pulled her pot out of the bag and picked her up. By now Ted was awake.

  ‘What are you up to?’ he demanded.

  ‘I’m getting her pot out,’ he explained.

  ‘Wanta wee-wee,’ Molly said, and Henry could have hugged her.

  He plonked her on top of it.

  ‘Do you have to do that in ’ere,’ Ted grumbled, rubbing the dark stubble on his jaw.

  ‘I’ll need to empty it,’ said Henry.

  ‘Oh, no you don’t. I was told you were a clever tyke.’

  ‘Then you’ll have to empty it.’

  ‘Oh, no. Not me,’ he said, moving away. ‘Percy!’

  Percy gave a groan.

  ‘Percy, wake up, will you?’

  But Percy kept sleeping.

  Ted struggled to his feet and stumbled over to the window. He peered out at the damaged landscape, scratching his head and yawning. He didn’t seem to notice that the curtains had been moved.

  ‘Okeydoke. You do it, then,’ he said over his shoulder. ‘But the girl stays with me. If you try and escape, well, I don’t need to go into details, do I?’

  ‘No, sir,’ said Henry.

  Ted swung round and stared at him.

  ‘Sir? I like that.’

  Henry hated leaving Molly and the exposed rucksack but as he walked through the kitchen carrying her pot, he suddenly realised that he was bursting. Standing in the outside privy, he relieved himself but he seemed to have a river inside him, and all the time he stood there urinating, he kept picturing Ted searching the rucksack, knowing that the camera was only concealed by a tiny cardigan.

  By the time he returned to the kitchen he could hear Molly crying. He began running.

  ‘What have you done to her?’ he yelled as he scooped her up into his arms.

  ‘I ain’t done nothin’. She was trying to get away! And when I tried to stop her, the little so-and-so only kicked me in the shins!’

  Percy was wide awake now and Molly was clinging tightly to Henry. He knew he had to get her pot back into the rucksack quickly. He knelt down, her arms and her dog wrapped round his neck, shoved the pot into the paper bag and thrust it inside.

  ‘Nearly there,’ he said, trying to reassure her.

  ‘We got to go out,’ Ted said to Henry. ‘Get in the hall.’

  He pointed at the cupboard door.

  ‘Open it.’

  Henry did so and found himself being pushed with Molly into a cellar, with such force that he had to grip Molly hard to stop her from falling down the stairs.

  ‘I need her pot,’ Henry yelled.

  Within seconds the rucksack was dumped on the top step, the door slammed and he and Molly were plunged into darkness. They listened to the sound of the key turning in the lock, the slam of the front door and silence.

  ‘Let’s sit on the stairs, Molly,’ said Henry.

  As he gently pulled her down he could feel her shaking. He touched the wall and his hand came back wet.

  ‘Molly cold,’ she whimpered.

  ‘I’ll get your cardigan out for you,’ he said.

  Fumbling, he felt his way round the rucksack, searching for the straps. He pulled out the pot but it slipped and he heard it clatter down the stairs. And then his fingers touched the little garment he had watched his mother knit for her.

  ‘Still cold,’ she whimpered after he had buttoned it up for her.

  ‘You can wear my jacket,’ he whispered, though why he was whispering was a mystery since there was only him and Molly in the house. He pulled off the jacket, wrapped it round her and did it up. She giggled. He put his arm round her and tried to think of how they could pass the time in a cellar that was so devoid of light that they were unable even to see their hands in front of their faces. It was even darker than . . . Suddenly he sat bolt upright.

  ‘A darkroom,’ he finished.

  ‘Yes, it is,’ agreed Molly.

  Not that he needed such pitch blackness to take the film out of the camera, but it gave him privacy, not only from Ted and Percy but also from Molly.

  He pulled the camera out of the leather case and then hesitated. Molly was sharp. She didn’t miss a thing. If she heard him opening it she might guess what he was doing and blurt it out in front of Percy and Ted.

  ‘Is doggie nice and soft?’ he asked loudly.

  ‘Yes,’ she said but her voice was trembling.

  ‘You’re a very brave girl looking after him.’

  ‘Yes,’ she whispered, and he heard her stifle a sob.

  With the camera in his hands, he felt for the knob at the side and turned it till it felt loose in his hand. To cover the sound of opening the camera he gave a loud cough. He touched the round circular piece at the top with his fingers and levered it upwards, releasing the spool of film. Lick the sticky band at the end and seal it, he told himself, feeling for it with his fingers.

  Now he needed somewhere to hide it. He was still convinced that his rucksack would eventually be searched and that the camera would be discovered. Whoever opened it would smell a rat if they found it empty. He needed to put the new roll of film in to throw them off the scent.

  He slid the used roll into the right hand pocket of his trousers.

  ‘Molly,’ he said, ‘would you let me give doggie a cuddle too?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I think it would make me feel better as well.’

  ‘All right,’ he heard her mumble reluctantly.

  He fumbled for the dog. Once he had it in his arms he unbuttoned the back, took out the small Kodak box, opened it and removed the cylindrical container, which had the new roll of film inside it. He prised open the lid and carefully emptied out the new film into the palm of his hand. He hesitated for a moment. He mustn’t get the two films mixed up. He put the new film into the empty box and slipped it into his left pocket. Taking the used film from his right pocket he slid it into the empty cylindrical case, snapped the lid over it, tucked it behind the nightdress and carefully buttoned up the dog. He touched Molly and handed the dog back to her.

  ‘Thank you, Molly,’ he said.

  ‘All better now,’ came a matter-of-fact voice from the darkness.

  ‘Yes. Much better.’

  The next hurdle was to put the new roll of film into the camera. He felt for the empty spool at the bottom of the camera, released it, clicked it in place at the top and turned it round until he could feel the slit with his thumbnail.

  Taking the new roll of film out of the box, he groped around inside the camera, his heart thumping. He levered the pin out, wedged the film firmly into place, broke the seal and gently pulled the tab at the end of it towards the empty spool, easing it into the slit. As he turned the knob at the side he could feel with his fingers that the film was taut. He coughed again to cover the click of the camera as he closed it. He would have to guess how far the film had moved round the spool as he turned the knob. It wouldn’t matter if he wound it on past number one. Now all he had to do was to make it look as if he had been taking photographs. An unused roll might make them suspect it had only recently been put it in and they’d search for the used roll.

  ‘Sing me a song, Molly,’ he said loudly, releasing the bellows. ‘A friendly song. For doggie.’

  ‘Don’t know a doggi
e song,’ he heard her say miserably.

  ‘How much is that doggie in the window,’ he sang, taking a photograph of the dark and winding it on, ‘the one with the waggly tail,’ he bellowed, taking two more pictures.

  He closed the camera, slid it into the camera case and put it back in the rucksack. ‘Where is that potty in the cellar, the one with the broken green rim? Oh, where is that potty in the cellar? I think we had better find him.’

  To Henry’s relief, she laughed.

  ‘Do you think if we went down the stairs together on our bottoms we could find it?’

  There was silence.

  ‘Molly?’

  ‘Molly nodded,’ she said.

  He moved close to her and they moved down to the next step. They found the potty wedged in a corner on the seventh one. One by one they manoeuvred themselves upwards back to the top step. Henry shoved the pot into the rucksack. Once the straps were tied, he put his arms round Molly and drew her close. It was then he remembered the empty Kodak box the new film had come in. He had to get rid of it.

  ‘Tell me the story of The Fierce Bad Rabbit again,’ he said.

  As she did so in her garbled way, Henry took the box out of his pocket, slowly chewed his way through it and swallowed it.

  They were in the middle of yet another re-telling of Mr McGregor yelling, ‘Stop, thief!’ when the sound of voices in the hall silenced them. He recognised them only too clearly. His father’s. And Gran!

  ‘What’s this?’ he heard her ask loudly.

  ‘Wet knickers,’ Percy said. ‘They belong to the little girl.’

  ‘What little girl?’ interrupted his father.

  ‘His sister,’ said Ted.

  ‘His sister! His sister’s here?’

  He was yelling now.

  Henry could feel Molly trembling.

  ‘You stupid cretins!’ he screamed. ‘Every policeman for miles will be looking for her now!’

  And then Henry heard something which sent a chill through his body.

  ‘We’ll have to get rid of her and quick!’

  6. Molly

  AS SOON AS HENRY HEARD THE KEY IN THE LOCK, HE HELPED Molly to her feet and slung the rucksack over his shoulder. The door swung open. His father was standing next to Ted, whose large bulky body made his father seem puny. Suddenly his father’s moustache made him look ridiculous. He hated him.

  ‘I’m sorry about you being locked up like this,’ he said, smiling. ‘There’s been a bit of a misunderstanding.’

  Liar, thought Henry. Did he think he was deaf?

  Henry stepped into the hallway, his arm firmly round Molly. He noticed that the curtains in the front room had been drawn back tightly across the windows.

  ‘Gran’s waiting for you,’ said his father.

  Together he and Molly walked into the kitchen. His grandmother sat slumped in one of the chairs, her face flushed. As soon as Molly spotted her she said, ‘Auntie’s cross.’

  ‘Auntie’s tired,’ he said quickly.

  There was a bag of shopping on the table. His grandmother scowled at Molly. Henry forced himself to smile.

  ‘Like a cuppa, Gran?’ She pointed helplessly at the cold range. ‘I’ll light that,’ he said.

  He settled Molly at the table, quickly drew a picture of a large tree, the sun, a field, a pig and a cat and told her to colour them in.

  ‘You go in the other room and put your feet up.’

  His gran rose wearily to her feet.

  ‘There’s potatoes to peel too,’ she grumbled.

  ‘I’ll do those.’

  ‘I was going to do mashed potatoes and sausage.’

  ‘Leave it to me, Gran.’

  ‘That’s for three of us.’ She glared at Molly. ‘Four of us now.’

  As soon as she was out of the room he moved towards the door to listen to Ted and Percy talking to his father.

  ‘I’ll be off soon,’ said his father. ‘And back Tuesday afternoon. Then you two can deal with the girl.’ And then Henry heard the words he had been dreading.

  ‘What’s in the rucksack?’

  ‘Stuff for the little girl,’ he heard Ted answer.

  ‘You empty it out, then?’

  Henry raced back to the range and shoved in handfuls of paper, bits of wood and old coal. He was just laying new pieces of coal on top when he heard his father stride into the kitchen. There was a thud as his rucksack was slammed on to the table. Molly jumped off the chair and ran over to him. Out of the corner of his eye he watched his father pull out the contents. He noticed that Ted was also in the room. There would be no cardigan concealing the camera now.

  ‘What have we here?’ his father said, pulling out the camera case. He held it up and pushed it in Ted’s face. ‘Know what this is?’

  Ted shook his head nervously.

  ‘A camera. A very nice camera as it happens. Now I wonder why my son wanted to keep it a secret?’ And he glanced across at Henry. ‘Like to tell us why, Henry?’

  Henry knew it was important to say the right thing but he couldn’t think what the right thing was and remained silent.

  ‘Quiet, ain’t he? I hope he ain’t been taking any photographs.’ He turned to face Ted. ‘You was watching him the whole time last night, I hope. No dropping off to sleep?’

  ‘Nah, course not,’ stammered Ted.

  ‘Well, just to be sure,’ he said, swinging round to Henry, ‘I’ll take a look.’ He pulled the camera out of the case and slid the cover up in front of the tiny window at the side. ‘He’s taken five photographs, it says.’

  Henry almost smiled with relief. He must have wound it on further than he had thought. His father opened the camera, hauled the film out and flung it to the floor. ‘All gone,’ he said calmly. ‘Nice camera. Could fetch a tidy sum. These are anything between twenty and thirty quid new.’

  ‘That’s mine,’ said Henry hotly. ‘It was given to me as a present.’

  ‘Not any more, sunshine. And let me remind you, you’re not too old to get a hiding.’

  Henry could feel Molly trembling as she clutched his trouser leg.

  His father swung round to Percy and Ted.

  ‘You can go. I’ll deal with him now.’

  They passed Gran in the doorway on their way out.

  ‘Why are you doing this to me?’ Henry blurted out.

  ‘You’re his son,’ she stated. ‘You do what he says.’

  ‘But why couldn’t you wait till I’d finished school? I only had three days to go.’

  ‘I did it so you couldn’t finish school,’ said his father.

  ‘Why?’ asked Henry, bewildered.

  ‘Because you wanted to, and I can’t have that, see?’

  Henry stared at him. He didn’t know whether his father was evil or mad. He turned away, took a match from the matchbox and lit the fire in the range. He noticed that his hand was shaking.

  ‘Help me blow on it, Molly,’ he said gently.

  Later, after sausage and mash, his father told his gran that when he returned on Tuesday he would be bringing the papers.

  ‘I was hoping it’d just be me and Henry,’ she complained, giving Molly a hostile stare.

  ‘You’ll only have to put up with her for two days,’ he said.

  ‘Five minutes is too much,’ she muttered.

  ‘Not long now, Mum,’ he said, kissing Gran on the forehead and handing her a key. ‘If you get any nonsense from him, the cellar’s a good place for calming him down.’

  Henry gave a shudder as he spotted her glancing at Molly.

  He watched Gran follow his father out into the hall, where they were whispering about going to see some man. He had just heard the man’s name when Molly burst into tears. By the time he had put his arms round her to comfort her, the name had gone out of his head. He listened to the front door being locked and his gran huffing and puffing as she returned to the kitchen. She stood red-faced in the doorway.

  ‘You go and put your feet up,’ said Henry.

&n
bsp; The strain of keeping Molly occupied and his gran cheerful was exhausting. His mind racing, he knew he had to find a way of getting Molly to safety before Ted and Percy returned. In the evening he took a pillow and a cushion from the sitting room, made up a little bed for Molly on the kitchen floor and went through as much as he could remember of her bedtime routine, even making her clean her teeth with a finger dipped in water. He read her The Adventures of Peter Rabbit until she had fallen asleep, and covered her with his jacket. Then he took his gran another cup of tea.

  ‘At last,’ she said, with satisfaction. ‘We can be alone now. Just the two of us, eh?’

  ‘How are your legs?’ Henry asked sympathetically.

  ‘Not good. Not good at all. And I’ve got to queue again tomorrow,’ she complained.

  ‘I can do that, Gran.’

  ‘I’m to lock you in the house,’ she said firmly.

  ‘But how are you going to carry it all?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘There is a way,’ he said slowly. ‘If me and Molly come with you, you could still keep an eye on us, couldn’t you?’

  She looked at him, puzzled. ‘How do I know you won’t run off?’

  ‘Why would I want to do that, Gran? All I wanted to do was to finish school and that’ll be over by Wednesday. Now I can help you find somewhere better to stay.’

  ‘Your father’s already done that.’

  ‘He’s got another place for us to go to?’

  ‘Another country more like,’ she said, looking secretive.

  ‘Another country?’ repeated Henry, fighting to sound casual.