Johnny Swanson - Eleanor Updale [90]
It was not his lucky night. He landed right on top of the policeman, who had come to report that an angry judge, called away from a delightful dinner party, had refused to issue a warrant for the information about PO Box 9.
The equally angry constable took great pleasure in escorting the sub-postmaster and the reporter to the police station.
Chapter 44
TRANSPORT
In Wales, the sergeant was on the phone, making arrangements for a special van to take his prisoners to Stambleton.
‘What about me?’ asked Johnny, rummaging in his pocket. ‘I’ve got a return ticket, but it’s getting late. I might not be able to catch a train tonight.’
Professor Campbell broke in while the sergeant continued his phone call in the background. ‘I’m sure I could make arrangements for you to stay here.’
‘Thank you,’ said Johnny, trying not to sound as unenthusiastic as he felt. ‘And, Professor, if you don’t mind, there’s something I want to talk to you about.’ He was remembering his promise. ‘It’s Olwen, sir.’ Johnny told Professor Campbell how Olwen had been orphaned, and how badly the nurse had treated her.
Olwen gave way to tears again. The professor enfolded her into a hug. Her slight body sank into the soft folds of his Ugly Sister dress.
‘Don’t cry, my dear, we will sort this out too,’ the professor said kindly.
‘Is Olwen very ill?’ asked Johnny. ‘Does she really need to stay here?’
‘No, the symptoms she came in with have cleared up. It wasn’t TB after all. In fact, she shows all the signs of immunity. I’ve thought for some time that she could be discharged. We’ve been having trouble contacting her relatives.’
‘My uncle’s dumped me,’ sniffed Olwen. ‘And now I’ll be here for ever.’
‘Can’t she come home with me?’ asked Johnny.
‘Does she have relatives in Stambleton who could look after her?’
‘Well, no,’ said Johnny. ‘Not family, exactly. But there’s a farmer who knew her parents. I don’t know his name. Or better still, the postmaster. He looks after me. He’s called Mr Hutchinson …’
‘I can’t let Olwen go to just anyone. We must get permission from her legal guardian. She will have to stay here for now. But we will look into the matter. Perhaps you could ask this Mr Hutchinson to get in touch with me?’
‘I should phone him anyway,’ said Johnny. ‘He must be wondering what’s happened to me. I need to tell him I won’t be coming home tonight. He might be worried.’
The sergeant finished his conversation and put down the receiver. ‘No need for that,’ he said. ‘We’re going to take you. Inspector Griffin’s given us permission to commandeer Mr Bennett’s car. He wants it back in Stambleton so they can search it for evidence. I’ll be driving you myself.’
Johnny could hear angry shouts from Bennett in the police van as the sergeant opened the door of his precious limousine.
‘Why don’t you go in the back, son,’ said the policeman. ‘It’s a long way, and you’ll be able to lie down and get some sleep. Look. There’s a blanket here.’ Johnny slid across the shiny leather seat. The sergeant shook out the soft woollen travelling rug and tucked it around Johnny’s legs.
‘I’m not tired,’ said Johnny. His excitement at being in a car at all was immense, but to be in this car, a Rolls-Royce Phantom II, made his blood fizz. On his only other rides he’d been hidden on the floor of the reporter’s battered Morris Oxford, and bounced around in the farmer’s ageing van. He didn’t want to miss a moment of this journey.
Settling into the driver’s seat, the sergeant fumbled around until the headlights came on and the engine purred into life; then he pulled out of the courtyard, followed by the police van. Olwen stood on the steps of the building waving, and the professor flapped his fan in a final farewell.
Chapter 45
COMING HOME