The Father's House

by Larche Davies

  “See what I’ve got,” he said, taking a small gadget out of the jacket pocket. “It’s a mobile phone. You carry it around and can phone from anywhere you like.”

  The two of them sat down on the sacks and Thomas showed Lucy the various tricks this wonderful invention could perform. He took a quick photo of her to show her the camera, but it was too dark in the garage to make a clear picture.

  “I’ll do it again outside,” he said. “Look, this is where I put in all my phone numbers, then all I have to do is press a button and their phone rings. It saves me having to look up the numbers. And if I just want to send a message, I can do something called a text. See?” He tapped in some words onto the tiny screen.

  “Can I ring Aunt Sarah?”

  “You’d better not. She might think you’re wasting her time. Come on outside, quick, and I’ll take another photo.”

  Lucy stood with her back to the setting sun.

  “Smile!”

  She smiled. He showed her the photo. It was the first she had ever seen of herself, and she laughed. “Is that what I look like?”

  “I’ll make you a copy to keep,” said Thomas. He took the phone back into the garage and put it in his jacket pocket.

  “If you lose it, you’ll lose all those numbers,” said Lucy.

  “Don’t worry. I‘ll take good care of it, but I’ve got them all noted down, just in case.” He picked his tools up off the pile of sacks. “Right! I’ve come to work, not to chat. I must get a move on.”

  Outside the wheelbarrow was in its usual place, leaning against the outside wall of the garage. Thomas turned it over onto its wheel and placed the tools and a fork and spade inside.

  “I want to mend some gaps in the back gate and do a bit of digging,” he said.

  “Have you noticed how my pansies have grown?” asked Lucy.

  “Of course,” he said kindly. “They’ve come on really well. And your carrots. Here, have a sweetie. What’s Father Copse up to these days? Did you know he’s applied for the Deputy Envoy’s job?”

  With a quick glance at the kitchen window Lucy stuffed a toffee into her mouth.

  “No. Does that mean he’ll go away?”

  “If he gets the job he might.”

  Lucy’s heart lifted for a moment. Thomas smiled at the expression on her face.

  “It’ll be OK. He’s got a really good chance. There’s no-one to beat him when it comes to preaching. It curdles the blood in your veins.”

  Lucy shuddered.

  “And he’s a brilliant infiltrator,” Thomas continued. “It’s the charisma – the charm.” He laughed. “Don’t look so astonished. Everyone has more to them than what you see. All the top judges and civil servants, he mixes with them and what they don’t realise is, he knows their secrets and passes them on. He knows more about them than they know themselves!”

  He ruffled her hair.

  “Let me know if you hear anything. You know I’m always interested in how you’re getting on.”

  “Of course I will. And thanks for the sweetie.”

  “It’s a pleasure.”

  He stubbed out his cigarette and trundled off with his barrow leaving Lucy to wonder what a civil servant was, and to ponder over the truly amazing information that the father could be charming. The way he spoke to Aunt Sarah certainly wasn’t charming. And the way that poor red-headed tenant had been bundled into the house hadn’t been charming. But it must be really interesting to be an infiltrator. Perhaps she could be one. She wished she had some information to pass on to Thomas – just to practise. After a while she followed him. He was busy with the awl and a screwdriver doing something to a loose board in the back gate.

  “Thomas,” said Lucy, appearing behind him.

  “Yes?”

  “Did you know we’ve got another tenant? We’ve got two now.”

  A startled look passed quickly over Thomas’s face and immediately changed to puzzlement.

  “Two tenants?”

  “Yes. In the top-floor flat.” She turned and pointed up at the barred windows.

  “No, I didn’t know,” said Thomas. “I suppose there’s no reason why I should. Perhaps the father needs the income. What do they look like?”

  “I’ve never seen them properly, though I know one of them has long red hair. And I’ll tell you a secret. I once climbed into the lime tree from the wall over there, and I saw a lady’s face looking out at me.”

  A flash of annoyance passed over Thomas’s face and quickly vanished.

  “You shouldn’t have done that,” he said firmly. “Supposing you got caught?”

  “I know,” she said, “I’ve not done it again. But it was like how you imagine a lunatic asylum in a book with the lunatic gripping the bars trying to get out.”

  “Listen to me,” said Thomas, crouching down in front of her and gripping her arms. “Don’t tell anyone about this, promise me. And don’t tell anyone how you got so high up into the tree – or that you got into the tree at all. Promise me!”

  “OK, I promise,” said Lucy, somewhat shaken. Thomas knew perfectly well that there was one tenant because they had often talked about it. So why should it upset him to hear that there were two – or was he just cross that she’d climbed the tree?

  She went back to the swing and pondered on the significance of these tenants for whom Aunt Sarah had to cook, and who never came downstairs to do their own shopping, and for whom the postman never called, and who looked out from behind bars like lunatics. She had considered telling Thomas about the hooded figure who had shown her the way into the tree, and how it was that she knew one of the tenants had red hair – and how she had briefly wondered if the new tenant had been abducted – but she decided not to. She had obviously irritated him enough for the time being.

  After school the next day George was swinging on the gate. Lucy didn’t look at him. He dropped his hand down. She reached hers up and took a scrap of paper from between his thumb and finger.

  “Thanks,” she muttered. “You’ll get your reward in due course,” and walked straight past without looking back.

  When she arrived home she tucked the bit of paper between the pages of her homework book. She didn’t dare read it straight away in case Aunt Sarah came suddenly to look over her shoulder. There was no supper that night because they were supposed to be fasting to celebrate the discovery of the first Holy Envoy as a baby in his wooden box sixteen hundred years ago. The evening seemed very long. Lucy wandered round the garden for a while. There was no sign of Thomas. He was probably still at the hospital. She went back to the kitchen and sat down to do her homework, but it was difficult to concentrate. Her mind was on George’s note. Why on earth hadn’t she stopped by the pond on the way home from school and hidden in the bushes to read it? Perhaps Aunt Sarah wouldn’t notice if she slipped out again. She shuffled her books around and felt for the bit of paper, but withdrew her hand quickly.

  Aunt Sarah was always irritable on a fasting night – though you’d have thought she’d be happy not to have to cook. “What’s the matter with you tonight?” she snapped. “You’re as restless as a box of wriggling eels. Just get on with your work, and then you can help Paul with his reading.”

  When she had finished her homework Lucy sat down with Paul at the table, and they practised his letters.

  “A is for apple,” she said, drawing an A and a picture of an apple.

  “I know that,” said Paul. He opened his mouth wide. “Apple. I’m hungry.”

  “B is for boy.” She drew a picture of a round little boy with curly hair.

  “I can spell boy,” said Paul. “I can spell Paul.”

  “C is for cat.”

  “I know all that already.” Paul grabbed the pencil and drew a picture of a boy with an apple standing next to a cat.

  “You draw much better than I do,” said Lucy admiringly. “I’ll read you a story instead.” She fetched her book of fairy tales from her bedroom and they sat together on Aunt Sarah’s chair.<
br />
  “Once upon a time…” began Lucy.

  “I can read that,” said Paul. “Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess.” Lucy couldn’t help smiling to herself. It was hard to tell how much Paul could genuinely read and how much he knew by heart.

  The evening dragged by. When Aunt Sarah took Paul to bed Lucy gave up and said she was going too.

  “You’re very early,” said Sarah.

  “I just feel a bit more tired than usual.”

  “Well you won’t sleep while it’s so light, but it’s up to you.”

  Sarah had her hands in the sink, and a delicious smell emerged from the oven.

  Lucy’s mouth watered. “Are you cooking for tomorrow, Aunt Sarah?” she asked.

  “No, it’s for tonight, Miss Nosy Parker. The father’s just had a message direct from the Magnifico saying he and the tenant are exempt from fasting for some reason.” Aunt Sarah’s nose wrinkled. Did she actually mutter, “I don’t think!” under her breath?

  No of course not. Lucy must’ve heard wrong. “Can I help you with anything before I go?” she asked.

  “No. You go. I can manage better on my own, but thank you.”

  Aunt Sarah turned and a smile flickered over her stern face. Lucy noticed that her legs were swollen, and thought how tired she looked.

  Lucy washed, cleaned her teeth, and laid out her school clothes ready for the morning. The curtains let in some light, but she opened them a bit further so as to read clearly. Rosy pink rays from the sunset fell across her room. She climbed into bed and sat with her homework book open in case Sarah came in. Peering down at George’s rather imperfect writing she managed to decipher his instructions:

  To retreev key from other side of lock – First, push large sheet of niwspaper or carbord under door keeping just enouff back to get hold of it on your side of door. Second, poke wire or thin rod such as niting needle into keyhole and jigle it about till key falls out other side and lands (you hope) on niwspaper or carbord. Third, pull niwspaper or carbord towards you and key will apere on your side of door.

  Of course! That was brilliant, thought Lucy. What a clever man George’s father was. He was so, so lucky to have a father like that, full of useful information. She tried to picture the process of getting at the key to the lobby exactly as the instructions stated. If only she could be sure that it didn’t fall too far away, it should be quite straightforward.

  Her mind was too alive for her to sleep. She got up and went back to the kitchen. Aunt Sarah was still rinsing out clothes by hand in the deep butler’s sink.

  “You were right, Aunt Sarah. It’s too light to sleep.”

  “Put the kettle on then, and make us a cup of tea. I’ve nearly finished these.” She gave them a final wring, and pulled them out onto the draining board. “I’ll just hang them out. We’ll each have a biscuit, fast or no fast, but you’ll have to clean your teeth again.”

  Lucy put the kettle on and took the biscuit tin out of the cupboard. Her tummy had been rumbling hopefully ever since the smell of the father’s supper had tickled her nostrils. The thought of a biscuit was quite delightful, and she hoped Aunt Sarah would be quick because she was starving. She stood at the back door and watched as Aunt Sarah puffed with her load of washing and vanished round behind the wing to the clothes line. Moving back across the kitchen to the side window she could see Thomas with his wheelbarrow making his way across the lawn towards the garage. He stopped under the lime tree and looked up into its boughs. Then he went into the garage and reappeared with three saws of different sizes. Perhaps he was going to cut the branches. It didn’t matter to Lucy. She would never climb that tree again.

  Aunt Sarah hung up the last of the laundry and picked up the empty basket, but instead of coming straight back so that Lucy could have her biscuit she went over to talk to Thomas. She looked cross, and they seemed to be arguing. Eventually Thomas rolled his eyes and shook his head, and took the saws away.

  “He wanted to cut that big branch,” said Aunt Sarah indignantly, when she came into the kitchen. “Anyway, he’d never be able to do it with those silly little saws. It’s much too thick.” She opened the lid of the biscuit tin. “Right!” she said, “Two each.”

  After school the next day Aunt Sarah was complaining about the stairs. Her face was shining with sweat and her hair fell in lank wisps away from its bun. She had had a bad day.

  “I’ve not only got to clean his flat while Aunt Martha’s away with her bad back, but I’ve got to do all those stairs, all the way up to the top floor.”

  “Did you take Paul up with you?” asked Lucy.

  “No. Of course not! He’s no more allowed on those stairs than you are. I had to leave him in his room. No harm can come to him there. Anyway, the father says he’s got to get used to being without company, same as you had to. It gives you time for quiet contemplation and brings you closer to the Magnifico.”

  Lucy thought she would prefer not to be close to the Magnifico. In fact, ever since Dorothy had been captured she had wanted to escape him altogether.

  “Well, I’ll be looking after Paul in the holidays,” she said.

  “That’s true. Though I hope Aunt Martha is back by then.”

  Lucy knew she was being selfish, but she couldn’t help hoping that Aunt Martha would stay away for a little longer. The thought of being asked to do the shopping was very appealing. Her mind was already working out what she could do with her freedom on the days that Aunt Sarah was upstairs. If she could find out how to use the Underground or the buses she might be able to plan her escape. As for money, well, she had no idea where that would come from. Perhaps Thomas would lend her some. In the meantime she wanted to find out if there was any news about Dorothy. The only person she could talk to about it was David.

  “Can I have a friend over in the holidays?” she asked.

  “It depends who it is. I’ll have to ask the father first. Who is it?”

  “It’s David from Drax House. He’s very well-behaved. He used to have the guidance cane, but he doesn’t any more.”

  Sarah wrinkled her forehead.

  “I doubt that you’ll be allowed. You shouldn’t be seen to mix with people who’ve had the guidance, even if you have had it yourself. It might make matters worse. Anyway, for some reason I think the father disapproves of Drax House these days, even more than he used to. But I’ll ask him.”

  After that Aunt Sarah felt she had talked too much and too leniently for one day, and drew her lips into their usual stern line. She shut Paul in his room, to which he objected, and told him to be silent because we all have to do things we don’t want to do at times.

  The following morning Lucy ran all the way to school hoping she’d see David before everyone went in. She checked that there was no-one near enough to hear them, and caught him as he was going up the front steps.

  “I’ve asked if you can come to my house in the holidays,” she panted. “If the father gives permission we can be friends. Then you can let me know if you hear anything about Dorothy, and you can help with suggestions for my escape.”

  David stopped and looked at her doubtfully.

  “I’d have to get permission too, and I have a feeling from things I’ve heard that Father Drax and Father Copse don’t like each other. In fact, I think they hate each other, which of course is a sin, but I suppose they’re above all that. I’ll wait till you’ve heard what Father Copse says.”

  Needless to say, the father refused permission. Aunt Sarah was not told why. The result of Lucy’s request was that Father Copse asked the school to discourage any friendship between Lucy and children from Drax House, particularly David.

  Lucy wondered how she could have been so naïve as to think of such a thing, let alone get so excited about it. If only she had been more subtle! Now everyone would be on the lookout to make sure she didn’t talk to David. What made it all the harder was that there was no news of Dorothy, except that she was being kept somewhere, awaiting a decision as to her f
uture.

  The summer holidays came, and on the days that Aunt Sarah had to clean upstairs the door from the kitchen to the lobby would be firmly locked behind her before she went up to the first-floor flat. If Thomas came Lucy and Paul would follow him around. Sometimes he gave them rides in his wheelbarrow, or pushed them both together on the swing, all squashed up in the wooden box with their legs sticking out through the holes at the front. Their favourite place was the common, and they would lie on their stomachs looking into the pond and poking it with sticks. Lucy was always hoping David would come and find her there, but he never did.

  She hadn’t had a chance to try out George’s recipe for removing keys from doors because she knew Aunt Sarah would be up and down those stairs, but she felt frustrated that she was frittering her holidays away by doing nothing about it. She still didn’t know what her escape plan was going to be, but she couldn’t do anything until she had been inside the father’s flat and looked for the record of her birth.

  One cold rainy day in August, when it was too wet to go out, Lucy and Paul sat at the kitchen table playing with his farm set.

  “One, two, three hens,” said Lucy. She counted out the little wooden pieces and made clucking sounds.

  “One, two, three hens, cluck, cluck, cluck,” repeated Paul, counting off his thumb and two fingers.

  “See? There’s some more here.”

  “Four, five,” said Paul. Then using his fingers he counted up to ten.

  “Clever boy!”

  Aunt Sarah had gone out into the lobby and locked the kitchen door. The children could hear her trundling up the stairs pulling the vacuum cleaner behind her, puffing and grumbling to herself. Then down she came again. The vacuum bag needed changing. She unlocked the door, pulling the machine into the kitchen.

  “Fetch me a new hoover bag from the cupboard,” she grunted, already out of breath before she had even started her cleaning work.