Johnny Swanson - Eleanor Updale [65]
Hutch hadn’t, and Johnny woke to find presents at the end of his bed. He knew where they had come from. He recognized the chocolates, jellies and candied fruit he had unpacked when they’d been delivered to the shop weeks before, and which had so spectacularly failed to sell since his mother’s arrest. Of course he knew that Hutch must have crept downstairs to fetch them in the middle of the night, but somehow he almost believed in Santa Claus for the first time in years. The Christmas lunch he and Hutch enjoyed together was the most lavish meal he had ever eaten, but he couldn’t really enjoy it because the person he loved most in the world wasn’t there.
After the meal, he and Hutch sat down together and composed their advertisement. After a lot of deliberation they came up with:
Langford
Anyone knowing the whereabouts of
Mrs Marie Langford, widow of the late Dr Giles Langford,
believed to be staying with relatives in France,
is kindly invited to contact
PO Box 9, Stambleton, Warwickshire.
This is a matter of the utmost importance.
They got it into the first post after Christmas, and it was in papers across the country before New Year.
Over the next week, a number of letters arrived addressed to PO Box 9, but they all turned out to be replies to Johnny’s last spurt of adverts before he had confessed all to Hutch. With Hutch watching over his shoulder, Johnny sent all the money straight back.
Then a letter came that didn’t contain a postal order. It was just a small sheet of paper saying:
I do not know where Marie Langford is, but if you value your safety, you will stop asking questions.
It was unsigned.
Hutch looked at the postmark. ‘It was posted in Brecon,’ he said.
‘Should we go to the police now?’ asked Johnny.
‘I’m not sure,’ said Hutch. ‘Maybe we should try to find out more first.’
‘Where is Brecon, anyway?’
‘It’s near Swansea, I think. In Wales.’
‘I know someone who comes from Swansea,’ said Johnny, excitedly. ‘Olwen. That girl from school I told you about. If we could find her, maybe she could help.’
‘Don’t be silly. That way we end up searching for two people, not just one. And anyway, what use can a child be?’
Johnny had to admit that Hutch was right. ‘I know,’ he said, calming down. ‘I didn’t really mean it. We’ll have to do something else.’
Hutch was thinking. ‘We could put in another advertisement – in the paper that covers the Brecon area. How about: Langford. Any news? PO Box 9, Stambleton.’
‘No,’ said Johnny. ‘Don’t mention Stambleton. That’s put the wind up someone already. Let’s get a box number at the paper this time, and ask them to send any replies on to us.’
Hutch found out the phone number of the local paper, and called to ask about their advertising rates. He was allocated Box 102. He sold himself a postal order to cover the fee, and asked Johnny to write the message out neatly, and to put everything into an envelope.
Johnny went upstairs and did as he was told. But sitting there with pen and paper, he couldn’t resist working out the wording for another advert that had come into his mind in an idle moment. He thought quite a few people might fall for it, and though he knew Hutch wouldn’t approve, he felt uncomfortable without any cash coming in. After all, he couldn’t live off Hutch’s kindness for ever, especially with business so bad, and he wanted to keep paying the rent on the house in Dagmouth Lane, ready for his mother’s return.
He still had some postal orders he’d received just before Christmas, from people who had been so desperate about the behaviour of their pets that they had written in to find out how to Solve the Problem of a Barking Dog. They had each paid a shilling, only to be told to Swap it for a cat.
Johnny wasn’t particularly proud of that one. But as so often, a simple idea had turned out to be very lucrative.