Johnny Swanson - Eleanor Updale [41]
‘And why were you cross about that?’
‘Because she might catch a disease there. But she said she had to go, because we need the money now that she’s not getting paid by the Langfords.’
The officer licked his pencil and started writing again. ‘So the Langfords had sacked her?’
‘Oh no. But they went away. They’ve been gone for about a month. But they didn’t say they were going, and Mum hadn’t been paid when they left.’
‘And she was angry about that?’
‘Well, a bit. But not just angry. Worried. We both were. And she needed her basket and her apron. She’d left them at the Langfords’ house, you see.’
‘An apron, you say. What was it like?’
‘Pink. And embroidered with flowers. She made it herself.’
The policeman paused to make some more notes, then he asked, ‘And what time did your mother go out last night?’
‘I don’t know. It might have been about seven o’clock, I suppose.’
‘And she was angry when she left?’
‘Yes. Very angry.’
‘And what time did she come back?’
‘I’ve no idea. I tried to stay awake, but I’d fallen asleep.’
‘So it was late?’
‘It must have been. I was lying there for ages, till long after the wind died down. I know I’d heard the clock strike ten.’
‘And this morning? Did she tell you where she’d been?’
‘No. I didn’t see her. She had to leave early for her new job.’
They were distracted by the bell of a police car speeding along the High Street.
‘That will be them bringing your mother here now,’ said Hutch. ‘We’ll soon get all this cleared up.’
But the car sped past the shop and onwards up the hill. The reporter started the engine of his own car and followed it.
Johnny turned to the policeman. ‘Was my mum in that car?’
‘Probably,’ said the policeman. ‘I think the detectives up at the doctor’s house want to speak to her.’ He turned to Hutch. ‘This is a serious business, Mr Hutchinson. The investigation may take some time. We’ll have to make arrangements for this young chap to be cared for.’
Johnny was horrified at the thought of being taken away, but Hutch told the officer that wouldn’t be necessary.
‘The lad has an aunt at home,’ he said. ‘I’m sure she’ll keep an eye on him.’
Johnny knew he should speak now. He should tell Hutch that he’d never had an auntie. But then he would have to explain about the postal orders and the adverts, and he couldn’t do that in front of a policeman. And if the officer knew there was no one at home, Johnny might be sent away to be looked after by strangers until Winnie got back. His mouth was dry, his chest was heaving with every breath. He jumped down from the stool and raced for the door. ‘I want to see my mother,’ he cried, tugging on the handle. It was no use: the door was locked. ‘Can’t I go where she is?’
‘No,’ said the policeman firmly. ‘That’s out of the question.’
Hutch could see that Johnny was getting distressed. He put his arm round him and moved him back into the middle of the shop. ‘I’ll give you the makings of supper for you and your Auntie Ada,’ he said. ‘It’s best that you wait at home for your mother to come back. Have you finished with Johnny, Officer?’
‘For now, yes,’ said the policeman. ‘But think hard, Johnny, and see if you can remember anything else about last night. If you do, tell Mr Hutchinson here, and he can phone us at the police station or up at the Langfords’ house. And don’t talk to anyone else, Johnny – especially that reporter I saw here before. Make sure any information comes straight to us.’
Hutch saw the policeman out, then did as he had promised, gathering together the ingredients to make supper for two. Johnny started the speech he had memorized at school, relieved at last to have the chance to explain what he had done: how there was no Auntie Ada, and how he would be alone at home without his mother. ‘Hutch,’ he began, ‘Hutch, there’s something I’ve got to tell you—’
A car