The Secret Life of Kitty Granger

by G. D. Falksen

  “What are you doing down here?” someone exclaimed from the far end of the cellar.

  It was Smythe.

  Kitty screamed and whirled around. Smythe was standing a few paces inside the door, staring at her. His face was contorted in astonishment.

  Did he suspect what she was up to? He knew, didn’t he? He knew!

  A flood of memories came back to Kitty. Captured by Ivan, the threats of violence, the knowledge that she was going to be tortured for information. Except then she hadn’t known anything. Now she did. What she knew could put Verity and everyone else in danger.

  Kitty felt the world around her start to blur in the midst of panic. Everything turned fuzzy, except for Smythe. He just loomed there, growing bigger and more frightening as the room melted into a haze. Kitty wanted to scream and run and hide.

  No. Keep your head together, Kitty. He doesn’t know anything.

  She pressed her foot against the stone floor until it hurt. The pain and the pressure forced the haze away a little bit. She gave a very visible sigh of relief and put a hand to her chest.

  Canadian accent, she reminded herself. Canadian accent.

  “Oh my goodness, Sir Richard! I’m so sorry, you startled me.”

  Kitty pretended that seeing him was a relief, like she had expected it to be someone worse. Smythe had no idea that she knew the truth about him. She was just some girl, one of Diana’s emptyheaded friends. He was suspicious of her presence in the cellar, but not of her as a person.

  “What are you doing down here?” Smythe repeated. He approached her, looming over her, making it very clear that he was in charge and he expected an answer. It was terrifying, and yet in one way it was also reassuring: it confirmed what Kitty suspected. Smythe was trying to overawe a girl he had caught trespassing, not apprehend a spy. Kitty suspected that if her cover had been blown, he would have grabbed her without hesitation.

  Kitty exhaled and blinked, knowing she looked frightened and pitiful. “I’m so sorry, sir! It was all Diana’s idea, I promise!”

  “Diana?”

  “To steal some wine,” Kitty answered, like it was the only possible explanation. “The girls felt like having a drink, so Diana said one of us should take a bottle from His Lordship’s cellar.” The panic was still coiled inside of her, and she let a little bit of it out as she said, “Please don’t tell Lord Lowell! I don’t want him to think that I’m a thief. Oh God, and don’t tell Diana I told you! I don’t want her to think I can’t keep a secret!”

  Kitty clutched her hands together piteously and looked up at Smythe with widened eyes. She guessed that a man like Smythe liked to feel as though he was in charge, so she let him.

  Slowly, Smythe answered her with an understanding nod, and his expression became sympathetic. “Ah, I see.”

  He looked around the shelves and grabbed a newish bottle from one of the racks. He passed it to Kitty with a smile.

  “I don’t think His Lordship will miss this one,” he told her.

  Kitty clutched the wine bottle in both hands, terrified of dropping it. Her hands were still trembling. Even with the moment of danger past, all her muscles were tensed and braced to run. She tried not to show it.

  “Thank you, Sir Richard,” she said.

  Smythe nodded. “Oh, and I wouldn’t mention you seeing me down here to anyone. If Diana finds out you were caught, she’ll be very cross with you. And while I won’t say a word of this to His Lordship, if he should hear of it from somebody, you’ll be blamed for the theft, not Diana. Just some advice.”

  “Understood, sir, not a word,” Kitty promised.

  Smythe smiled and pinched Kitty’s cheek. “Good girl. Run along then.”

  Kitty rushed from the cellar. She got all the way to the privacy of the stairway before her whole body shuddered and she pawed at her cheek to dispel the sensation of being pinched. Being touched by anyone made Kitty cringe, but Smythe was so monstrous that it had made the intrusion much worse. The man was a killer. There was blood on his hands. Kitty wiped at her cheek again, like there was blood on it too now.

  Stop it. Stop it.

  Kitty took a few deep breaths to calm herself. Smythe would be along any moment. She had gotten away this time, but if she was discovered in a panic on the stairs, Smythe would start asking other questions.

  Strangely, though, Smythe did not emerge. Curious, Kitty slipped back down the stairs and glanced into the cellar. Smythe was nowhere to be seen.

  A smile slowly spread across Kitty’s face. Smythe had used the secret door. It really was down there. She had been right.

  Chapter 20

  Kitty was forced to wait until everyone retired to bed before she could tell Verity what had happened. Verity was alarmed at first, but after some discussion they both agreed that Kitty was probably in the clear. In any case, they now knew for certain where the hidden room was located. All they needed now was an opportunity to actually access it.

  On Sunday morning, everyone went to church in town. There was nothing unusual about that of course, although Kitty hadn’t actually been to church regularly since her mother died. Her father was never all that enthusiastic about it, and Kitty didn’t like the crowds.

  The building was packed with people, and very hot. Kitty spent most of the time gazing in the direction of the vicar, pretending to be interested in the service while trying to ignore all the people around her. They were loud and sweaty and present, and it was horrible. She clutched her prayer book tightly and tapped her foot under the pew to stay calm. In the end, she got through it, and she was proud of herself for that.

  She returned to her room afterward, while everyone else went off to freshen up for the big afternoon dinner. She was still a bit hazy from all of the people at the service. It would pass. She knew it would pass. And besides, she was getting very good at devising ways to speed up the recovery process. She doubted that her discomfort around crowds would ever go away entirely, but necessity had forced her to find ways of coping with all the noise.

  At first, Kitty didn’t realize what was wrong in her room, but she knew that something was wrong the moment she arrived. She stopped dead center and slowly turned around, holding out her hands, afraid to touch anything.

  Verity, who had followed her, stopped a few steps away and leaned back to avoid being bumped by Kitty’s hands.

  “What is it?” Verity asked.

  Kitty held a finger to her lips for silence. She needed to think. What was setting her off? Her luggage was closed and under the bed. The bed was made. Her detective novel was on the nightstand. Everything was where she had left it.

  But it wasn’t how she had left it.

  Kitty went to the table. The book was slightly off-center from where she liked to put it. She had a pair of pencils that were now resting at slightly different angles. Her glass of water was just a little to the left of where it was supposed to be. She looked at the bed. The pillows were puffed a little differently than how she’d left them, and there were a few scattered wrinkles in the covers that she was certain hadn’t been there before.

  Don’t panic. Maybe the maid turned down the bed.

  That would explain the pillows and sheets, but not the rest. Kitty knelt and looked at her suitcase under the bed. She always pushed it in straight back, just a little bit under the lip of the bedframe. It felt like it was supposed to sit there. Now it was crooked, and sticking out slightly. The difference was almost unnoticeable. Certainly no one else would have cared, but Kitty did.

  She glanced around the room and saw countless other little changes, from the chair to the rug to the tilt of the lampshade. They weren’t right.

  Someone had been in here moving things. They had tried to put them back but hadn’t gotten it quite right. It wasn’t the maid. The maid wouldn’t have gone through her luggage.

  Verity tapped her on the arm. “Is something wrong?”

  Kitty’s mind was whirling, ticking through possibilities. This was because of the incident with
Smythe last night. It had to be. They were on to her! They had searched her room, and maybe they had planted a bug somewhere!

  Calm. Calm. Calm. They don’t know anything! Maybe they suspect, but they don’t know.

  “Vera, I think I left my handbag at church. Will you walk me down to look for it?”

  Verity glanced at Kitty’s handbag, which was still on her arm. She was only confused for a moment, before she nodded to show she understood.

  “Of course I will,” Verity said. “We should hurry if we’re to make it back before dinner.”

  Kitty managed to hold her tongue until they reached the garden outside. That was as far as they needed to go. If someone later questioned why they hadn’t walked all the way into town, that would confirm that her room had been bugged. Otherwise, they could pass this off as just an idle stroll.

  “What is it?” Verity asked. “Something’s wrong with your room.”

  “I think it was searched,” Kitty explained. “Things were a little off center, or at odd angles.”

  “You noticed that just going into the room?” Verity sounded like she couldn’t decide whether to be astonished or skeptical.

  “I often notice things like that,” Kitty answered timidly. It was odd, and she didn’t want Verity to think she was odd.

  To Kitty’s surprise, Verity smiled at her. “Impressive. I have a lot of training, and I can’t do that at a glance. But I suppose that’s why you’re here.”

  “Yes,” Kitty said. “And we know where the hidden room is. I only need a few more minutes alone in the cellar to find exactly where the door is and how to open it. Any thoughts about when we can try?”

  Verity frowned. “If they searched your room, it’s because Smythe and Lowell are taking precautions about you.”

  “Do you think they’re onto me?”

  “I doubt it,” Verity said. “More likely they went through your things to find anything incriminating, like a gun or spy equipment. It’s the reason why we didn’t bring any.”

  Kitty nodded.

  “We’re supposed to go down to the seaside on Tuesday and stay until Wednesday,” Verity mused. “I wonder if Lord Lowell is coming with. The beach isn’t far. If the whole family is out of the house, we could go back in the middle of the night and take a look. Then again, if Lowell’s staying here, it’s risky.”

  “I suppose we shall have to see what happens on Tuesday then,” Kitty said.

  “Yes,” Verity agreed. “Meanwhile, we keep our heads down and our ears open.” Verity glanced toward some of the trees, and a troubled look crossed her face. “I just wish I could get into Lowell’s safe. There’s no telling what’s in the hidden room, but Lowell’s safe might very well have tangible evidence of some sort, whether it’s letters or accounts or a schedule . . .”

  Kitty pictured the Lowell’s office, with all the details she’d noticed while she was in there. An idea began to build in her head. “Actually, I—I think I can get the safe open.”

  “How?” Verity looked astonished at the very suggestion. “We won’t be able to use proper tools. And it’s too good to crack by ear.”

  Kitty was silent for a moment as she pondered how to explain the plan she was formulating. “Smythe put a case of documents in the safe when he arrived. He leaves tomorrow morning, so Lord Lowell will have to open the safe for him.”

  “You aren’t suggesting that we lure them out of the room and hope they leave the safe open, are you? That is not going to happen.”

  “No, no, nothing like that,” Kitty promised. “I just need to be there when they open it.”

  “Be there?”

  “I can hide behind the curtains before they come in, and peek out while they’re focused on the safe. That way, I’ll get the combination, and then we can go back later and get a proper look inside when no one is around.”

  “The curtains? You won’t be able to see the dial from there!”

  “No,” Kitty agreed, “but I can see which direction it’s turning and how far it turns. If I know the number it starts on, I can guess each part within maybe five numbers. Then I’ll just try those combinations until it works.”

  “Within five numbers?” Verity asked. “That’s still a lot of possible combinations.”

  “It’s a whole lot less than all the possible combinations,” Kitty replied.

  Kitty barely slept that night, she was so nervous about the next morning’s operation. It was the only way to get into the safe, but it was definitely going to be risky. If she was caught, they were done for. There would be no way to play off her presence as innocent, like she had done in the cellar.

  For the past few days, none of the girls had gotten up before noon, with the exception of Sunday, and even then Diana and Ivy had almost slept through Sunday service. Monday was different. Kitty heard Diana go downstairs bright and early to say goodbye to her godfather, and Verity went along with her. There was no noise from Ivy or Phyllis, so once the coast was clear, Kitty sneaked out of her room and crept downstairs. She hurried down the hallway to Lord Lowell’s office and slipped inside. There was no telling how long she would have to wait in hiding, but this was the best option available.

  She checked the dial on the safe first. It was set at 23. Kitty committed the number to memory and ducked behind the curtain. And then she waited.

  At the start it was dull, but after about twenty minutes it had become unbearable. What had she gotten herself into? Smythe might take an hour to leave, and what if he decided to leave his papers behind when he did?

  The noise of the door opening broke her out of her churning thoughts. Kitty tensed, and she gently pushed the curtain back from the wall with her fingertips, creating the tiniest possible peephole for herself. She saw Lowell cross the room toward the safe, and heard Smythe offering his farewells to Diana.

  As Lowell opened the safe, she watched the movements of his hand and listened carefully.

  First, a quarter turn to the right. Somewhere between the upper nineties and five. She couldn’t fix it better than that.

  Next, a short twist to the left. Kitty almost missed it. Oh God, what could it be? Ten? Fifteen?

  Don’t panic. Keep focused. What’s the last number?

  Finally, a very long turn, almost all the way around to the far right. Kitty flinched and blinked rapidly as she measured the scraping of the dial and the shifting position of Lowell’s hand.

  It had ended up somewhere around thirty.

  All right, she could work with that. Call it 5-10-30. An easy sequence to remember. She would just have to try some variations on it when she had the chance.

  Smythe came into the room and took the briefcase from Lowell.

  “Smile, Henry,” Smythe said, giving Lowell a jovial pat on the arm. “Soon we’re going to do something rather wonderful.”

  Lowell did indeed smile. It was the expression of a man far too pleased with himself to be trusted. “Saving Britain from itself,” he agreed.

  Lowell closed the safe and gave the dial a firm spin to clear the number. Then he and Smythe went outside and closed the door behind them. Kitty peeked out into the office, relieved to be alone again. She only had a few moments to wait before the door opened again, and Verity poked her head in.

  “Come on, let’s go,” Verity hissed at her.

  Kitty dashed out from behind the curtains and hurried into the hallway. Verity closed the door and took Kitty’s hand, leading her toward the foyer and the main staircase.

  “Did you get it?” Verity asked quietly.

  “Near enough,” Kitty said.

  “Good, we’ll try tonight.” As they reached the foyer, Verity whispered, “Go halfway upstairs and then come back down like you’ve just woken up, understand?”

  Kitty nodded. They both paused at the corner of the staircase and leaned out to see where everyone was. Smythe and Lowell had gone out to the front steps and were exchanging a parting handshake. Diana was still in the foyer, hovering by the doorway and looking very disa
ppointed at her godfather’s departure. No one noticed Kitty and Verity.

  Kitty scurried upstairs to the first landing, turned, and walked back down again, with a slow and shuffling pace that emphasized just how early she felt the morning was. When she reached the foyer, she saw Verity meandering in from the dining room, holding a piece of buttered toast between her fingertips.

  “Morning, Kate!” Verity called, giving Kitty a wave. “Finally decided to join the rest of us?”

  Kitty reached the ground floor and stifled a big yawn. “It’s so early,” she protested. She looked out through the front door and watched Smythe get into his car and drive away. “Oh, has Sir Richard left already? Goodness, how do you people get up at this hour?”

  Kitty found it almost impossible to keep her excitement contained for the rest of the day. Luckily, no one was watching her closely. Diana and the others spent hours getting their luggage together for the upcoming seaside trip and planning out all the exciting things they were going to do while they were there. It was strange: just a few months ago, an outing like this would have been the most interesting thing Kitty could imagine. Now it was just a feature on the landscape of her new life.

  Just after midnight, Kitty met Verity in the upstairs hall, and they sneaked downstairs. Kitty’s heart was pounding. They didn’t dare turn on any lights, so they lit their way with an electric torch. Every shadow seemed to be a man lurching toward them as they crept past. Each portrait on the wall had Smythe’s face leering down at them.

  Once inside Lowell’s office, Verity illuminated the safe with her torch and nodded to Kitty.

  Kitty took a few long breaths to sooth her nerves, and began trying combinations. First she tried the base sequence she had remembered, although she didn’t expect it to work. Those were just round numbers to keep fixed in her head.

  5-10-30. Nothing.

  Kitty adjusted.

  4-10-30. 3-10-30. 2-10-30. 1-10-30. 99-10-30 . . .

  She tried every number from 98 up to 5. Nothing. Kitty grimaced and switched to the next set of numbers. 5-9-30. 5-8-30. 5-7-30.