Johnny Swanson - Eleanor Updale [63]
Johnny watched, hungry and amazed, as Hutch stirred large knobs of butter into the potatoes. He kept Hutch talking about the visit to his mother; but he knew the question that was bound to come, and eventually Hutch found the words:
‘Now then, Johnny,’ he said gravely. ‘If there never was an Auntie Ada, where did all those postal orders come from?’
Haltingly at first, but then with relief, excitement and even a hint of pride, Johnny told Hutch everything, from the Secret of Instant Height through to the Poetry Police and Confidentially Yours.
Hutch tried to be kind, well aware of the torment Johnny was enduring, but he couldn’t disguise his disapproval of what the boy had done.
‘This can’t go on. Good heavens, Johnny! Can’t you see why it’s wrong? Can’t you imagine how those people you tricked are feeling?’
‘I don’t need to imagine. I know. They did it to me first, remember?’
‘But that doesn’t mean you can do it to other people! It doesn’t excuse making total strangers send you money for nothing!’
‘They always got something. Even if it wasn’t exactly what they were expecting.’
‘And what’s all this about you selling stamps?’
‘I haven’t been selling them.’
‘You said they were portraits of the King. People paid for them. That’s selling stamps.’
‘Oh.’
‘And selling unused stamps is against the law. If you’re not a properly qualified postmaster, that is. I should know. I can show you a copy of the regulations if you want.’
‘I didn’t realize—’
‘And it’s worse than that. Presumably, to make any money, you must have been selling stamps at more than their face value?’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Well, when you sent someone one of these “official portraits”, how much did you charge?’
‘A shilling.’
‘And you sent them one-shilling stamps?’
‘Of course not. Penny stamps; threepenny stamps; sixpenny stamps. It depended on what I had at the time.’
‘So you were making a profit.’
‘That was the point.’
Hutch thumped the table. ‘But that makes it even worse. It’s a crime, Johnny. You have committed a crime! Here we are with your mother unjustly imprisoned and you really are a criminal. I should turn you in, Johnny. I might even lose my job if I don’t.’
Johnny was blinking hard, trying not to cry. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said weakly. ‘I was only trying to help.’
Hutch was still angry. ‘Well, you haven’t helped, have you?’
‘I’ve got enough money to pay the rent.’
Hutch couldn’t stop himself. His next words spilled out before he could think. ‘But your mother might die!’
The silence that followed wrenched at them both. Eventually Hutch had to break it. He could see that Johnny was on the verge of tears. Hutch was calmer, but still stern. ‘Well, Johnny, it’s all got to stop now, hasn’t it? I’m not going to tell the police: for your mother’s sake, if nothing else. But if any more letters come to that private box, we’ll just return them unopened to the main sorting office.’
‘No, you can’t do that!’ cried Johnny, thinking of the advert in the personal column of The Times. He explained how he was looking for Mrs Langford in the hope that she would be able to help prove Winnie’s innocence. ‘You see, Hutch, it’s not just that Mrs Langford can tell everyone what a good woman my mother is. She can give new evidence.’
‘Like what, exactly?’
‘For a start, she knows my mother didn’t have any keys to her house. The police don’t believe Mum, but they’d believe Mrs Langford.’ Johnny wondered whether he should break his promise and tell Hutch about the BCG. He started cautiously: ‘And there’s another thing. Someone killed Dr Langford, and if it wasn’t Mum, it must have been somebody with a reason. Mrs Langford might know who it was, and why.’
Johnny was surprised by Hutch’s response. ‘Your mother was talking about that too,’ he said. ‘She’s been running over in her mind everything she knows about the Langfords, looking for