But she had turned a corner.
Alex rounded angrily on his sister. “Do you always have to do that?”
“What?” said Hannah, her face burning.
“Push people away like that. She was being nice, and she was trying to tell us something.”
Hannah stared up the road, and said nothing.
Alex walked silently alongside her for a moment. Then he said, “Are you okay, sis?”
“I have no clue,” said Hannah distantly.
Alex opened the door.
The kids were about to head upstairs, when Mrs. Archer called to them. “Children, come here. We have a visitor.”
Hannah raised her eyebrows at Alex, and said, “Sure.”
They followed her into the front room, where a man with a moustache was sitting. He wore a grey suit, and his hat lay on the sofa beside him. Mrs. Archer cleared her throat.
“Alex, Hannah, this is Mr. Smedley. He’s with the government,” she said importantly. “Sit down, children.”
Hannah took the only available armchair, while Alex, reluctant to sit next to Smedley, sat on the floor at his sister’s feet. The man looked keenly at the two of them. “I have a few questions to ask you both. Don’t you remember me?”
“I do,” said Alex slowly. “You’re the man we met in the café, when we first came to Balesworth.”
“That’s right,” said Smedley, unsmiling, with a nod.
“Have you come to tell us what happened to our friend, George?” asked Hannah.
“No. I have not. I’m here on different business. As I have just told Mrs. Archer, I’ve learned that you, Hannah, were mixed up in an incident that concerned the police.”
Hannah’s heart sank. Alex grimaced and dropped his head.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” asked Mrs. Archer, sharply.
Hannah said, “I’m sorry. I feel really bad about it, but it won’t happen again, I promise.”
Alex nodded vigorously. “Yeah, I saw her that day, Mrs. Archer. She felt really, really bad. But you know, you don’t need to punish her. Mrs…” Hannah kicked him in the back, and he stopped.
“What were you going to say, sonny?” asked Smedley. “I saw your sister kick you.”
“Nothing.”
“Perhaps you would like to come over here. Or you can tell me in the next room, away from her. A bit of a bad ‘un, your sister, is she?”
“No,” shouted Alex. “She’s not! She’s totally the best big sister, and she just did something stupid, and all I was going to say was that Mrs. Devenish already punished her, so there’s no reason for anyone to punish her again, okay?”
Hannah was amazed. Alex had never defended her like this before. She suddenly felt a wave of sisterly love.
“Right, alright,” said Smedley, trying to calm Alex down. “No need for that. Now, the thing is, Mrs. Archer is concerned, and I am too, that this may not be the most suitable billet for the two of you. Might be, you two will need to move on to other accommodations.”
“Is this what you want?” Hannah asked Mrs. Archer sharply, but she wouldn’t look at the kids.
Smedley spoke placatingly, as if trying to sound as reasonable as possible. “You know, there are three million evacuated persons, at least, most of them children. This evacuation was smoother than last year, but difficulties still arise. Some children get lost…”
“Like George Braithwaite,” interrupted Alex.
“No, not exactly,” Smedley said. “I’m talking about youngsters who are separated from their brothers and sisters, or who aren’t properly reported to London, and kids whose parents lose them. Mrs. Archer tells me that neither of you has ever had any letters from home, and that concerns both of us. Now, if you would just give me your father’s name…”
“William Di.. Day,” said Hannah. Smedley wrote it down in his notebook as “William D. Day”
“And his address?”
Hannah realized with horror that she would have to make something up. She looked at the picture on the wall above Smedley’s head. “Three hundred and forty seven Tulip Street.”
“Three hundred and forty seven?” Smedley said suspiciously.
“Hannah…” said Alex quickly, knowing full well that no house numbers on residential streets that he had seen in Balesworth ever climbed beyond 99. He turned to Smedley. “My sister means thirty-seven. I think she’s just upset. Maybe she’s annoyed by all your questions.”
Smedley stared at them both, then wrote it down.
“And what area of London is that, then?”
“Cricklewood.”
“That’s a fairly rough part of north London, isn’t it?”
The kids said nothing.
“Are they on the telephone, your parents?”
“No,” both kids said quickly.
Smedley dropped his notepad back into his inside jacket pocket. “That will be all, children.” He nodded to Mrs. Archer, who said, “Go to your rooms, please.”
Alex and Hannah climbed the stairs, both of them feeling deeply uneasy. When they got to the top, Hannah signaled to Alex to wait silently on the landing. She opened then closed her bedroom door with a bang, quietly removed her shoes, and tiptoed to the top of the staircase, carefully avoiding the creaky spot halfway along the landing. She paused at the top of the stairs, and listened intently. Fortunately, Mrs. Archer had left the door of the front room open.
“I can see your problem,” Hannah heard Smedley say. “The girl’s an incorrigible troublemaker, and a bad influence. I could leave him and take her, if you like…” Mrs. Archer’s voice was fainter than Smedley’s, but it was clear to Hannah that she was not keen on that idea. “Well,” Smedley said. “If you wouldn’t mind waiting, I’ll see if I can get in touch with the parents, shall I?”
Mrs. Archer apparently agreed, then said something that included the word “husband.”
“Of course, madam, I will certainly respect your wishes in the matter,” Smedley said. “I can remove them tomorrow with a minimum of fuss, and your husband need not be told about the..ah…police incident. And you may be sure that the children won’t be removed to anywhere in Balesworth. I have in mind a hostel in Norfolk, in fact. A very efficient place, and, of course, far from here.”
Mrs. Archer moved closer to the door, and Hannah could now clearly hear what she was saying. “They will be treated well?” asked Mrs. Archer anxiously. “It’s just that I would much rather they go to a private home.”
“That, madam, is a matter for the proper authorities,” said Smedley, as Hannah heard him getting to his feet. By “the proper authorities,” Hannah thought, he probably means himself. Quickly, she ducked back along the landing as they came out into the hall.
As Mrs. Archer brought Smedley his raincoat, Hannah dragged Alex into his room. Standing with her back to the door, she said, “We have a problem.”
Downstairs, as soon as the door had closed on Smedley, the telephone rang in the hall. Mrs. Archer answered it, and then called upstairs to Hannah.
“It’s the telephone for you. Apparently, it’s urgent. It’s some woman who says she is your maths teacher.”
Rushing downstairs, Hannah picked up the receiver. Mrs. Archer stood next to her, ignoring Hannah’s glanced hints to leave her alone.
Over the phone line, Hannah could hear what sounded like a railway station. There were steam trains, hissing, puffing, and chugging along tracks, and the hum of dozens of passing voices.
“Sorry, dear, can’t chat for long. Can you speak freely?” asked the Professor.
“No, not at all,” Hannah told her.
“Well, that’s alright. I just rang to let you know that I do think things are starting to work out.”
Hannah chose her words carefully, for she was only too aware that Mrs. Archer stood right behind her. “I don’t think so, actually. I don’t think my…homework is going well at all. In fact, since I saw you, it’s all gone wrong. It’s a bit of a disaster. I’m sorry, but I need your help.”
“Sorry, dear, what was that? Can’t hear you, all this noise—oops, excuse me, sir…I say, madam, be a little more careful with that case, there…Anyway, Hannah, I’m sure you will do whatever you need to. Can’t stop! Bye!” And then she hung up.
Feeling very alone, Hannah replaced the heavy black telephone receiver on its cradle.
“Why didn’t you tell me about the window?” Mrs. Archer asked quietly from behind her.
“I didn’t want to get in more trouble,” said Hannah, shrugging.
“But why were you throwing stones through people’s windows? It doesn’t seem like you.”
Hannah thought of explaining to Mrs. Archer what Eric claimed to have seen, but then she realized that she didn’t want to tell her anything more. She looked into Mrs. Archer’s eyes. “Yes, well, we can’t always tell from first impressions what people are really like, can we?” With that, she retreated upstairs to talk with Alex, leaving a silent Mrs. Archer with her arms folded, looking troubled.
That night, Hannah waited until the Archers had gone to bed. The house soon descended into silence. She lifted the blackout curtain a short way, and held her watch up to the moonlight. It was midnight. Sitting silently on the bed, she thought about everything that had happened, and what she now had to do.
Time went by very slowly, but Hannah was not worried that she would drift off to sleep. She was too nervous and excited for that. When her watch told her that it was 2 a.m., she tiptoed next door, and woke Alex. Quietly, carrying their packed cases and school satchels, they slowly made their way downstairs. Hannah felt sick, and full of dread as well as hope. She was taking a huge leap of faith. She hoped she had made the right decision, or everything was about to fall apart.
It was around 2:45 a.m. when Verity was woken by the loud knocking on the front door over the sound of the heavy rain pelting the roof. She didn’t hear Eric or her grandmother stir, so she threw back the thin quilt, blanket, and sheet, got out of bed, and put on her robe and slippers. Shivering in the freezing cold house, she felt her way along the walls down the pitch-dark hall to her grandmother’s room. She knocked, and when Mrs. Devenish sleepily called out, “What is it?” Verity entered.
“Granny, there’s someone at the door,” she said into the darkness.
Her grandmother switched on the bedside lamp, rubbed her eyes, and then peered at her alarm clock. “But it’s almost three in the morning…” she yawned. “It must be some sort of emergency.”
“Shall I answer it?” asked Verity.
Mrs. Devenish sat up, ran her fingers through her hair, rubbed her face with both hands, and snapped out of sleep.
“You will do no such thing. Back to bed with you this instant.”
Climbing out of bed, she put her robe on over her nightdress, before putting on her slippers. To her annoyance, her granddaughter waited for her.
“I said, go back to bed. Verity, for once, would you do as you are told?”
Verity scowled, but she reluctantly made her way back down the hallway, and hid in the bathroom. As soon as she heard Mrs. Devenish reach the front door, she tiptoed back to the top of the stairs, and listened.
Carefully, Mrs. Devenish cracked open the door. There, on the doorstep, stood a scared, sleepy, wet, and shivering Hannah and Alex, carrying their bags.
“What the…?”
She threw open the door.
“What is the meaning of this? What are you two doing here?” she demanded, flabbergasted.
Alex swayed slightly, and looked befuddled.
Her lower lip trembling, Hannah said, “Mrs. Archer was going to send us away tomorrow. Because of the window, you know, the lady’s window. That man, the one who took away our friend, he’s supposed to come and collect us and take us to a hostel, in somewhere called Norfolk. Please don’t send us away, Mrs. D. Please, please don’t.”
Hannah made that speech with every last bit of energy she had. Everything that had happened to her suddenly seemed to fall upon her shoulders at once, and the weight of it was unbearable. Her face crumpled, she doubled over, and she started to cry in great, helpless sobs.
Immediately, Mrs. Devenish ushered the two children inside. She put a hand on Alex’s back and steered him toward the drawing room, as she reached around Hannah’s shoulders, and gently led her behind her brother.
Listening from the upstairs landing, Verity decided to risk her grandmother’s ire, and slowly started downstairs.
“Alexander, take that wet blazer off before you fall asleep, or you’ll catch your death,” Mrs. Devenish ordered, pointing to Alex’s soggy wool school jacket. She still had her arm around an exhausted and sobbing Hannah, who was hanging onto her as if her life depended on it. When she saw her granddaughter standing awkwardly in the doorway, she gave her an exasperated look. “Verity, it was very naughty of you to disobey me, but since you’re here now, at least make yourself useful. Please take Alexander upstairs to Eric’s room, and try to make sure that he leaves his wet clothes on the landing.”
Verity moved toward Alex, who was sitting on the sofa looking completely out of it. Mrs. Devenish looked down at Hannah, who was bitterly weeping by her side, and said quietly to her granddaughter, “Before you go, Verity, could you please put a record on the gramophone? Something calming, I think. I should imagine a little Grieg would do the trick.”
Mrs. Devenish lowered herself into her armchair by the fireplace, pulling the distraught girl onto her lap as she did so. Verity dropped to her knees by the record player, and sorted through the stack of stiff black discs in their beige paper sleeves. Soon, with a happy smile, she held up a record to her grandmother.
“How about Gracie Fields? I mean, I know you got it as a present and you don’t care for her, but I rather like her, myself. It’s Sally, so it won’t be too loud or jolly.”
With a roll of her eyes and wave of her hand, Mrs. Devenish indicated that it would do in a pinch. Verity cautiously removed the record from its sleeve, and placed it on the turntable, then carefully lowered the arm onto the spinning record. There was a burst of orchestral music, and then a woman’s soprano voice began a sweet and gentle song in which a man begged a girl called Sally to marry him, and never to leave the street on which they both lived.
As Verity walked Alex upstairs, Mrs. Devenish gazed into the last glowing embers in the fireplace, and, without saying a word, gently rocked Hannah. Hiccupping, Hannah sank her head into Mrs. Devenish’s shoulder, and, soon, was asleep.
When Verity returned, she said, “I’ve got Alex settled, and I’ve put his wet things on the clotheshorse.” She yawned, and then smiled at her grandmother. “Are you all right there, Granny? I bet she’s heavy.”
“Just a little, and she is absolutely soaking,” said Mrs. Devenish. “Verity, be a dear. Run upstairs and fetch your spare nightdress, and let’s see if we can’t get her into it and into bed. At least she’s quietened down.”
As Verity left the room, she heard her grandmother murmur to the sleeping girl in her lap, “Just look at you, you poor, poor little thing.”
The next morning was Saturday. Hannah woke to the patter of rain on the windows of Verity’s room, and the smell of toast. She dressed in some old clothes of Verity’s, a skirt and blouse that had been laid out for her on the end of the bed, and came downstairs to find that her own clothes were still drying on the rack in front of the fire, as were Alex’s. Her brother was in his pajamas and Eric’s robe. Verity and Eric were very quiet, and everyone seemed anxious, except for Mrs. Devenish, who efficiently served them all oatmeal and toast.
“Not for me, thanks, Mrs. D.” said Hannah as a steaming bowl of oatmeal was placed in front of her.
“Why ever not?” asked Mrs. Devenish with a frown. “I make rather good porridge, if I say so myself.”
“I just don’t like oatmeal,” said Hannah. “It’s kind of like the stuff my dad uses to spackle the walls…”
“That’s enough,” said Mrs. Devenish with irritation, taking Hann
ah’s plate and putting it in front of Eric, who happily added it to his own helping.
“I don’t mind that you don’t care for it,” she said quietly to Hannah, “but you really don’t have to insult my food.”
Hannah’s brow creased. She didn’t want to hurt Mrs. Devenish’s feelings, not after she had been so kind. “I’m sorry, Mrs. D. My bad,” she said remorsefully.
“It’s alright, my dear,” said Mrs. Devenish softly, not looking at her.
“Mrs. D.?” asked Alex, “Are we going to have to go with that Smedley guy?”
“I don’t know,” she said curtly, to Hannah’s dismay. “We shall have to see.”
“Don’t worry,” Verity whispered to Hannah. “That means, ‘Over my dead body.’”
“Don’t whisper, Verity,” chided her grandmother, leaning over and tapping her hand.
“Mrs. D,” asked Alex again. “How long will it take the Archers to find out where we are?”
“They already know. I telephoned them this morning.”
“What?” Hannah blurted out.
“Calm down, Hannah. They won’t be coming. I spoke with Mrs. Archer, and she said that they had decided it would be better for you to seek a billet elsewhere. I don’t know why she is so determined that this should be so, but nothing I said seemed to persuade her otherwise. She also said that she will inform Mr…What was his name?... Mr. Smedley of the circumstances.”
Don't Know Where, Don't Know When (The Snipesville Chronicles Book 1) Page 19