Johnny Swanson - Eleanor Updale [56]
In the end, it was the farmer who brought the subject up as they drove back towards Stambleton. He wasn’t meaning to, but he recalled that Johnny had mentioned Dr Langford.
‘So you knew the old doctor?’ he said. ‘I couldn’t believe it when I heard he’d been murdered.’
‘Oh yes,’ said Johnny. ‘I’ve known him all my life. He was a really nice man.’
‘A terrible business. Dr Langford was a real gentleman. And so good with children. He took good care of a fair few at that sanatorium. They were his two specialities, see: children and TB. You should have seen him when we had the epidemic in 1916. I don’t think they’d ever have built that sanatorium without Dr Langford raising money and making speeches everywhere. It was thanks to him that Olwen’s family were taken in there as charity cases. We’ve been robbed of a good man. I can’t imagine why anyone would want to kill him. That evil barmaid had better swing for it.’
Johnny didn’t know what to say. Should he risk letting on who he was? Should he try to explain that Winnie wasn’t guilty? Best to say nothing, he thought. He’d be out of the van in a few minutes. He might never see the farmer again. He stayed quiet. But the farmer filled the silence: ‘Do you know her? You’re from Stambleton. She has a kiddie about your age. You must have seen him at school. You must have come across his mother?’
Johnny started to stutter a reply. He could hardly get any words out. He didn’t want to sound as if he was disowning Winnie, but he didn’t know how to explain why he hadn’t mentioned her before. He wanted to tell the farmer all about her, and how she couldn’t possibly have committed the crime. All he managed to do was make himself sound shifty.
The farmer was suddenly suspicious. ‘Hang on a minute,’ he said, glancing across at his small passenger, ‘why aren’t you at school today?’
‘I don’t go any more,’ said Johnny. ‘I can’t because—’
‘What’s your name?’ said the farmer, driving faster and faster as it dawned on him who his passenger might be.
‘Johnny …’
‘Johnny what?’
‘Johnny Swans—’
‘You’re that boy, aren’t you?’ gasped the farmer, slamming on the brakes so hard that Johnny was thrown forward against the dashboard. ‘You’re that woman’s brat. Get out. Get out! You’ve got a nerve. I can’t believe you tricked your way into my van.’
‘But you asked me in. I was only—’
‘I should have known. A boy of your age wanting to go to a funeral? You’re sick. Go on. Get out. Now!’
Johnny fumbled with the door handle. At last he was able to climb down onto the road. They were still a couple of miles from Stambleton. The farmer tried to move off, but the engine had stopped, and he had to get out and crank it with a handle. He stood in front of the bonnet, cursing.
‘She didn’t do it,’ Johnny shouted, with tears in his eyes. ‘She’s innocent.’
The farmer didn’t look up. Swearing under his breath, he kept cranking the engine until it spluttered and started running again. Then he pulled out the heavy iron handle and waved it at Johnny. ‘Get out of my sight!’ he yelled; and, terrified that the man was going to beat him or fling the handle at his head, Johnny turned and started running towards town. A few seconds later, the van swept past.
Johnny was shocked by the speed with which the kind man had turned on him. His words had revealed more about local gossip than Johnny had dared to imagine. People really hated Winnie. And there was no hope now of finding Olwen, the one person who might not know what had happened; who might listen to Johnny’s version of the story, take pity on him and understand his grief.
Chapter 27
OUTCASTS
At least Johnny had Hutch. He went straight to the shop. It was quiet. A few people came in to buy stamps or cash