Johnny Swanson - Eleanor Updale [78]
‘All right,’ Olwen sighed. ‘I’ll show you the way to the office. Then I’ll try to find Professor Campbell. But we haven’t got long for that either. He’s in the pantomime, you know. He’s one of the Ugly Sisters. He’s probably getting into his costume now.’ She dropped her scrubbing brush into the bucket and Johnny helped her to her feet. ‘Follow me,’ she said. ‘It’s dark enough for us to take a short cut across the courtyard. But keep your head down. We don’t want anyone to see that we’re there.’
Chapter 37
THE OFFICE
Johnny and Olwen cut across the yard. Olwen pulled him into the bushes beneath the office window. ‘Lift me up,’ she said. ‘I’ll look in and see if there’s anybody there.’
‘Climb on my back,’ said Johnny, crouching down in the mud; and Olwen stepped on him and pulled her chin up to the level of the windowsill.
‘The lights are off,’ she whispered. ‘There’s nobody inside. But there is a telephone. I can see it on the desk by the typewriter.’
‘Right. Tell me which door it is and I’ll go in,’ said Johnny.
‘What if it’s locked?’ said Olwen. ‘And what if someone sees you in the corridor?’
‘I could go in through the window. Can you get it open if I raise you a bit higher?’
Olwen pushed at the window, and it started to lift up.
‘Swap over,’ said Johnny. ‘I’ll stand on you and climb in.’
Neither of them was very big, but somehow they managed to launch Johnny over the sill. He dropped down onto the floor inside the room. As soon as he landed he knew it would be hard to climb back out. But he’d deal with that later. The important thing now was to phone the police. He picked up the receiver and dialled the operator. It seemed to take ages for the mechanism to click and whir its way to a connection, but at least that gave him time for a brainwave. He breathed deeply, and when a response came from the other end he spoke calmly, in his most adult high-pitched voice:
‘Hello. My name is Mrs Ada Fortune. I’m calling on behalf of Professor Campbell at the Craig-y-Nos sanatorium. We need the police here on a matter of the greatest urgency and importance.’
The operator wanted more details.
‘I’m afraid I am not at liberty to go into the particulars. Suffice it to say that this is a matter of life and death. Hurry, please.’
Johnny slammed down the receiver, hoping that would help convince the operator that something serious had happened, and rushed to the door. Olwen was right. It was locked. He dragged the chair from the desk to the window, but it swivelled beneath him when he tried to jump up, and without Olwen to give him a push he couldn’t manoeuvre his body over the sill. He looked around for something higher and more stable to climb on. There was only the desk; but it was at least three times the size of his kitchen table at home and, with rows of drawers on both sides, far too heavy for Johnny to pull across the room.
He was stuck there. He turned on the desk lamp and looked around, hopelessly searching for another way out. It was a drab, functional place. There was a bookcase full of files, an etching of the King on the wall, and a notice board covered with lists of staff and their rotas. Johnny saw that Dr Howell was on duty that night. Alongside was a newspaper cutting about a huge donation raised for the hospital in a local collection at Christmas. Johnny’s eye was naturally pulled to the small ads at the side of the page. A sheepdog needed a new home. Someone else was selling an unused wedding dress. And then he saw it: his own advert, Change Your Appearance Permanently. That must be where Mrs Langford had seen it. It explained why she hadn’t answered the personal message in the same edition appealing for news of her whereabouts. That must have been printed on a different page.
There was nothing Johnny could do except wait for Mrs Langford to come. He pulled the chair back to the desk and sat down, wondering whether to phone Hutch, if only to let him know that he was safe (so far), but that would mean talking to the operator