Johnny Swanson - Eleanor Updale [33]
‘It was a stupid thing to do,’ she said. ‘Dangerous too. That house looks good, but everything’s starting to fall apart. If you wanted to look in upstairs, you should have gone up a tree or something.’
‘I still could,’ said Johnny, inspired by Winnie’s throwaway remark.
‘But you can’t risk being seen by Mrs Dangerfield. She’d be back at the post office complaining about you all over again.’
‘Not if you come with me. She wouldn’t dare tell me off if you were there.’ Johnny was getting excited about his plan. ‘Come on. You want to know what’s inside too, don’t you? Let’s go together.’
‘What, now?’ said Winnie, startled. ‘But it’s dark. And it will still be dark before you go to school in the morning.’
‘All right then – later tomorrow. When it’s light. I’ll get out of school at dinner time. Meet me at the Langfords’ and I’ll climb a tree in the garden and tell you what I see.’
‘I’m not sure,’ said Winnie. ‘I’ll sleep on it.’
She did, and in the end her concern over her basket, her apron, and whether she would ever get her wages over-rode her natural caution. Johnny climbed an old pear tree. He’d hardly had time to steady himself before he heard the sound of a sash window opening. But the noise was coming from over the road.
‘You boy!’ shouted Miss Dangerfield. ‘You, boy, get away from there!’
‘Oh no,’ said Winnie, quivering with fear. ‘You’d better come down, Johnny. She’s seen you.’
‘Just a minute, Mum,’ said Johnny. ‘I’m up here now. I might as well carry on. You pretend you’re angry with me, and I’ll stay up here till I’ve had a good look.’
So Winnie started shouting at Johnny while he clambered through the branches, looking into the Langfords’ house. He tried to sound as if he was answering back rudely, but he was really giving Winnie a running commentary on what he could see. They made a good team, but all Johnny had to report on was a row of empty bedrooms and a tidy study.
‘Well, that was a waste of time,’ said Winnie as they strode back towards the gate. ‘I feel terrible now. That was really wrong, looking in someone’s windows. We’ll just have to accept that the Langfords have taken off without paying me. Maybe they’ll explain it all if they ever come back, but until then, Hutch wants you to stay away from here, and so do I. Promise me you will.’
‘All right. I promise.’
‘Good boy,’ said Winnie, taking his hand. ‘We’ll just put all this behind us.’
Miss Dangerfield was still watching from an upstairs room, muttering to herself about ‘that Swanson woman’. It seemed that she was just as bad as her nasty little son.
Chapter 16
THE CLONG
The weekend came and went, and the Langfords were still away. Nobody apart from Johnny and Winnie seemed bothered, so Johnny decided to use his new advertising skills to try to find them. He was already intrigued by the ‘personal columns’ in the newspapers, where people put in strange messages that meant nothing to anyone but themselves. He’d seen: Masham. Contact Dawkins. Something to your advantage, and, Cad. I don’t care. So there. Flopsy. Now he composed one of his own: Langford. Please contact Swanson. Worried. At threepence a word, he had to drop something to get the cost down to a shilling. He decided to lose the ‘please’, but keep ‘worried’, which he had already substituted for ‘urgent’. Even at a shilling it was expensive compared with his other adverts, because of course it wasn’t going to bring in any money. He knew from his deliveries that the Langfords read the Stambleton Echo and the London Times. He put his advert in the London paper, since they could get that anywhere, and he was pretty sure they weren’t in Stambleton.
A fortnight later, there was no response.
But the rest of Johnny’s advertising business was