Don't Know Where, Don't Know When (The Snipesville Chronicles Book 1)

by Annette Laing

  “But you said to Mrs. Lewis that you threw a stone through a window,” Verity persisted.

  There was a pause.

  “Actually,” Mrs. Devenish said slowly, “It was half a brick.”

  The two girls gasped in delight. Hannah leaned in front of Mrs. Devenish and tried to give Verity a high-five, but Verity didn’t understand, so she gave her a thumbs up instead.

  Half-proud, half-embarrassed, Mrs. Devenish told the girls the story. “I wrapped it in a piece of paper on which I had written ‘Votes For Women.’ I’d been reading in the newspapers about the WSPU’s militant campaign, and I suppose I just…I just got carried away. I didn’t mean to get caught, you know. I wasn’t as brave as the real suffragettes. So I waited until my parents and sisters were out, and I thought nobody was looking, and I chucked it…. through the, er, front window of our house, actually. My mother was opposed to women being given the vote, you see...”

  The kids laughed, then Hannah said excitedly, “Someone saw you do it, didn’t they?”

  “Yes, yes they did,” admitted Mrs. Devenish. “Our maid, and several of the neighbors, as a matter of fact. I have no idea now what I was thinking. It was a Sunday afternoon, and broad daylight, and absolutely everyone was home, sitting in their front parlors. They heard the glass break, and they all saw me tear off down the street. My mother and Mrs. Lewis told everyone afterwards that I’d locked myself out of the house, and had broken a window to get in. I’m not sure anyone believed that.”

  Hannah couldn’t help herself. “So, did you get spanked?”

  “Oh, good heavens, no, I was almost twenty years old at the time….Mind you, not that Mrs. Lewis didn’t suggest it to my mother … I’ve never forgiven her for that.”

  She suddenly realized that she was walking alone, and she turned around to see Hannah and Verity hanging onto each other, doubled up with laughter.

  “I have only one thing to say to you two on this subject,” said Mrs. Devenish with great dignity. She turned to face the girls and drew herself up to her full height. “And it is this: Do as I say, girls, and not as I do.”

  Wiping her eyes, Hannah said with a giggle, “Isn’t that kind of hypocritical of you?”

  “Perhaps it is, Hannah,” said Mrs. Devenish with a rueful smile. “But it’s also good advice. If we decide to disregard it, we all of us must live with the consequences.

  “Of course, I don’t think you lot would be half as amusing if you were always perfectly behaved. And if you or Eric or Alexander or anyone else ever asks me whether I actually said that, I shall deny it categorically.” And with that, she turned on her heel.

  Chapter 13

  Reunions and Revelations

  Two days later, Hannah returned from school in the afternoon to find Mrs. Devenish writing at her desk at the drawing room.

  “In light of our encounter with Mrs. Smith, I have decided that it is not practical for you three to make her an apology,” she said, without looking round at Hannah.

  “Are you going to mail the money to her?” asked Hannah, dropping her school satchel on the floor in the corner next to the bookcase. Mrs. Devenish turned sharply at the sound.

  “Pick that up at once, Hannah… No, I’m going to take it to her myself, and see if I can persuade her to let me in. I have reported my information and suspicions to Mr. Simmons, and he has agreed to meet me at Mrs. Smith’s house later this afternoon.”

  “Is he going to be there when you arrive?” asked Hannah with concern.

  “I have no idea. Why?”

  “I want to come with you,” said Hannah decisively. Mrs. D. is ancient, she thought. This Smith woman gives off bad vibes. She shouldn’t be alone with her.

  “No, Hannah, that will not be necessary. Go and do your homework.”

  “But…”

  “Homework, Hannah.”

  Even Hannah knew that further argument was pointless, and possibly hazardous to her health. She now had to think of another way to handle the situation, and fast.

  Once Mrs. Devenish returned in the car, having picked up Verity at school, all the kids were home. While she went to change into her WVS uniform, the kids gathered for an emergency conference around the garden bench. The boys stood, Alex leaning against the oak tree, as Hannah explained her concern to the others.

  “We could tell Mrs. D. she needs to have at least one of us along,” suggested Alex.

  “Tell her?” said Verity, incredulously.

  “What are you thinking?” Hannah asked her brother.

  “Okay, cool,” said Alex. “Well, what do you guys have in mind?”

  There was silence.

  “Okay, then,” said Alex. “Hannah, do you remember how Grandpa always says it’s easier to get forgiveness than permission?”

  “Yeah, and I also remember how Mom and Dad would tell him not to say that.”

  Verity looked at Alex with renewed interest. “Are you suggesting that we go anyway?”

  There was a brief silence while everyone considered the awful implications of this proposal.

  “Yeah,” said Alex, matter-of-factly. “And I think this visit can do double duty. We can check out the house for the kid while we keep an eye on Mrs. D. But we’re gonna have to think fast, because we’re not gonna have much of a head start on her.”

  Eric was looking at everyone, from face to face. He was panicking. “I dunno, you lot, I dunno…I dunno if I can do this.”

  Verity said, “Come on, scaredy-cat. It will be an adventure.”

  “Yeah, right, Verity,” Hannah said cynically. “That’s what you said to me last time.”

  “And look what ‘appened,” blurted out a now visibly terrified Eric.

  Verity looked at him sternly, and Hannah thought once again how she could bear a startling resemblance to her grandmother. “Sometimes, Eric, we have to do what’s right, regardless of the risks. And this time, if it makes you happy, I promise that I shall own up as the ringleader.”

  “No, actually, Verity, that doesn’t make me ‘appy. Not one bit,” said Eric, firmly. He suddenly seemed to come to a decision. “Alright, I’m in.” Then he added, mostly to himself, “I must be mad.”

  The taxi bumped along the pot-holed road, splashing up a sheet of water that just missed Mrs. Devenish, as she walked toward Mrs. Smith’s house. Smedley was sitting in the back of the cab, looking over some papers from his briefcase, and didn’t notice her. He was feeling thoroughly put out, and a little worried. Mrs. Smith had written to tell him that she wanted the boy moved along. Now Smedley would have to collect him, and he was already thinking of a story to tell that hostel in Norfolk. Not, he reflected, that the man in charge cared much one way or the other. He was far too busy to care enough to dispute what he was told about the children who were placed with him.

  As the kids crossed the fields, Verity sank ankle deep into a puddle, while the soles of everyone’s shoes became thickly coated in mud. As they drew closer to the house, the kids also grew more wary. They took a break in a meadow, behind a tall hedge, and wiped the mud from their shoes on the long grass, scraping off the worst of it with rocks and twigs.

  “Right, then,” said Verity. “We might as well make our base here. I suppose we should send Alex first. Got the biscuits for Mrs. Smith’s terrier?”

  Alex patted his pocket. “Yep, got them. I’ll bring the dog back as fast as I can.”

  The driver pulled up outside Mrs. Smith’s house, pulled on the handbrake, and shut off the engine. Smedley got out and said to the driver, “Shouldn’t be more than a few minutes, I reckon.”

  The driver, who was muffled in a flat cap, scarf, and woolen gloves, clapped and rubbed his hands together. “Hope not, guv,” he grumbled. “It’s blinkin’ freezing out ‘ere.”

  “Yeah, well, no fear, I’ll make it worth your while.”

  As soon as Smedley knocked, Mrs. Smith opened the door.

  “The boy’s upstairs, packing,” she said, stepping back to allow him to enter.
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br />   She showed him into the sparsely furnished front room. The largest piece of furniture was a buffet, with a couple of cheap ornaments on top, along with a photograph of Mrs. Smith’s late husband as a soldier in World War I. Mrs. Smith and Smedley both sat down.

  “I’m sorry for the short notice, Mr. Smedley, but this palaver is more trouble than it’s worth. My nerves are in tatters, worrying about prying eyes, especially some of those busybodies in the WVS. I been thinking, I might as well just ask Mr. Simmons for an ordinary evacuee. This farmer up the road, he gets lots of work out of his two, especially because they’re only in school for half the day now. And it wouldn’t cost me anything, not like it has with you.”

  “Well, do whatever suits you,” said Smedley, curtly. “There’s plenty more people interested in finding an extra pair of hands, not too many questions asked. And we got plenty of riff-raff kids like this one,” he jerked his head at the stairs, “who nobody is likely to ask questions about. I’ve got lots of takers, believe me.”

  Alex had returned with Mrs. Smith’s Jack Russell terrier, which he had carried most of the way. It had enjoyed the dog biscuits he had offered it. The kids now tied it to the bush with the piece of washing line they had brought, and gave it the last of the dog biscuits as compensation.

  “Alex, this may or may not be a problem,” said Verity. “We just saw a car come to the front of the house, and we’re pretty sure it’s a taxi cab. So either she’s going out, or she has a visitor. What should we do?”

  Alex considered this calmly, and said, “Let’s keep going. Maybe the visitor will distract her, and we can try our first plan, yeah?”

  The kids ran as fast as they could toward the back of the house, slowing only as they approached the yard. Now came the biggest risk of the adventure. Her heart pounding, Hannah pushed open the back door. They were in luck. It was already partly open, and it did not creak. Looking ahead, she could see the door that led to the hall, and heard voices. She beckoned all the kids forward, and they took off their shoes, laying them outside, upside down in case of rain. Verity, whose socks were wet, removed those too.

  As they hesitated in the kitchen, Hannah, standing in the doorway, suddenly heard someone in the living room stand up, and she heard Mrs. Smith say, “There’s a bit of a draft.” Hannah froze, holding her breath. But Mrs. Smith only closed the door that led from the front room to the hall. Hannah let out a silent sigh of relief. She gave the kids the thumbs up, and they filed into the hall on tiptoe. Going up the stairs took some time, as all four of them tested every step for creakiness before they put their weight on it, but finally they all arrived on the second floor. Hannah dropped slowly to her knees, and began to crawl along the landing. The others followed suit.

  By good luck, Hannah could hear someone moving about behind one of the bedroom doors. Silently, she retrieved from her pocket the note that Verity had written. She glanced at it:

  “Hello! Do you need to be rescued? Please reply on this paper. We are friends.” With trembling hands, Hannah shoved the note and the pencil through the gap below the door and waited. She signaled to the others when she heard the note being picked up. A minute later, the paper came back.

  “Thank you. Yes please. I’m locked in.”

  Mrs. Devenish arrived at the front door, took a deep breath, and knocked with three sharp raps. There was a small pause. Then the door opened.

  “Oh, it’s you again, is it?” said Mrs. Smith with distaste. “Brought the money, have you?”

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Smith,” said Mrs. Devenish smoothly. “I have indeed, but I would like to come inside. I have something I wish to discuss with you.”

  “I got nothing to say to you. So just hand it over, won’t you?”

  When Mrs. Devenish did not move, Mrs. Smith said, “Well, if that’s ‘ow it is, you can just stick it in the post.”

  She began to close the door, but Mrs. Devenish was ready for her. She jabbed her umbrella through the doorway to stop the door from closing, and then leaned forward and shoved it open. She advanced on Mrs. Smith, who was backing down the hall, yelling at her with indignation, “Who do you think you are, you…”

  “I have reason to believe you may have a child here who is an unregistered evacuee. I’m not leaving until I am absolutely sure one way or the other.”

  “What?” shrieked the woman. She looked up into Mrs. Devenish’s determined face, and something snapped. She screamed, “Get out of my house, you interfering old cow!” and lunged at the older woman, fists flying.

  Mrs. Devenish held up her arms to protect herself. Suddenly, Hannah ran between the two women, and gave a fast sharp low front kick to Mrs. Smith’s shin, yelling, “Get your hands off my…my friend!” As the woman gave a cry of pain and doubled over, Hannah clapped both of her ears hard with the flats of her hands, just as Eric gave Mrs. Smith a hard kick up the backside. Verity leaned past him and pulled hard on Mrs. Smith’s hair, and then all the kids piled on her. As she groaned, Eric, who was proud of the knot-tying skills he had learned in Boy Scouts, took off his tie and quickly began to restrain the woman’s hands with it, while Alex extracted her keys from her apron pocket, and ran upstairs. It all happened in seconds.

  Smedley was standing open-mouthed in the doorway of the front room. “What the blazes do you think you’re doing?”

  Shaken, Mrs. Devenish was adjusting her hat, straightening out her jacket, and trying to disguise exactly how impressed and furious she was with the kids. “Children, would you kindly escort Mrs. Smith into her front room? Mr. Smedley, I want a word with you.”

  The kids helped up a struggling, angry Mrs. Smith, and pushed her into an armchair, her hands still firmly tied behind her back.

  “This is disgusting,” she screamed. “You’re not above the law, Mrs. High-and-Mighty! I’ll have the law on you and this lot, and don’t you think I won’t.”

  Mrs. Devenish ignored her and looked at Smedley.

  “Where is the boy?” she demanded.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Smedley protested angrily.

  “Oh, I think you do,” Mrs. Devenish said with quiet determination. “Now, once again, where is he?”

  The answer came in the form of a gangly, light-skinned black kid of seven years old, who stood awkwardly in the doorway with Alex.

  “Everyone?” said Alex. “Meet George Braithwaite.”

  George looked at the ground most of the time, and could not bring himself to look at Mrs. Smith at all, even as she spoke to him.

  “Tell them, Thomas. Tell them you’re my son, and this is all a mistake,” she ordered.

  He remained silent, and everyone’s eyes turned to him.

  Mrs. Devenish put a hand on his shoulder. “George, is this your mother? Now tell me the truth,” she said, not unkindly. “I want you to trust me. Nothing can happen to you.” He looked up at her, and gazed into her eyes for several seconds before he said “No…No, Miss, she’s not. She just makes me work in her house.” And then he looked down again. Mrs. Devenish patted his shoulder gently. Hannah looked at Eric, and, with surprise, saw that he was crying.

  Just then, Mr. Simmons and Constable Ellsworth entered through the open front door, and came straight into the front room.

  “What’s going on?” asked a shocked Mr. Simmons, as he looked around the room. A red-faced Mrs. Smith was collapsed in an armchair with her hands behind her back, while Smedley and Mrs. Devenish were facing off against each other like wrestlers, as all the children stood at the ready.

  It was Hannah who replied. “This is George Braithwaite. This total witch, the Smith lady, locked him up here, and she’s using him as slave labor.”

  “That’s right. And I’ve come to collect him,” said Smedley, abruptly. “I will be taking him to a hostel until I can find him a new billet.”

  Mrs. Smith took a sharp and indignant intake of breath. “Don’t you dare blame this on me!” She turned to plead with Ellsworth and Simmons. “He took money o
ff me, he did. He said I could have a kid what’d earn his keep, no questions asked, and I didn’t need to send him to school.”

  “This woman’s lost her marbles,” said Smedley. “Another reason we have to remove the boy for his own good.”

  Mrs. Smith gave an indignant “Oh!”

  “Mrs. Devenish,” said Mr. Simmons, trying to understand, “do you have any idea what is going on?”

  Smedley, still looking at Mrs. Devenish, was thinking quickly, Hannah realized. He said, “Well, funny she should turn up here. That’s the other matter I needed to attend to in Balesworth today. I’m investigating a report that this lady gave a beating to two evacuees, including this girl here. And her a magistrate, too…” He tutted.

  “Are you threatening me?” Mrs. Devenish asked, in a cold fury. “How dare…”

  Constable Ellsworth had been quiet to this point, but now he stepped forward and held up a finger to shush her. “Tell me, Mr. Smedley, do you have evidence for this charge against Mrs. Devenish?”

  “But you said… to me and him in the pub,” said Smedley, aghast.

  “I said nothing of the sort. Do you recall me saying such a thing, Mr. Simmons?” Ellsworth said, turning to the billeting officer.

  “Oh, no, this doesn’t ring a bell at all, Constable Ellsworth. And you,” Mr. Simmons said to Hannah, “You’re one of the evacuees in question. Has Mrs. Devenish beaten you, or otherwise mistreated you?”