Johnny Swanson Read online

  ‘You’d better put it back straight away,’ she said, ‘so that we know where it is next time. Make sure you put the lid on tight or it will dry up.’

  So Johnny climbed on the chair again. And while he was up there, and Winnie had her back to him, sorting out the ironing things, he took a look inside the china mug. He’d always known that his mother kept money in it: special secret bits of change that she felt she could spare to save up for Christmas – and he’d always known that he mustn’t touch it. But he could see that there were coins inside – most of them coppers, but some of them silver.

  He knew he shouldn’t even think of taking the money, but for the rest of the evening he planned what he would do when his mother was asleep. So in the middle of the night he crept downstairs in the chilly dark, and tipped the money out of the mug and onto the table. Although it was cold, his hands were slippery with sweat. He dropped a penny. The coin rolled and then spun on the stone floor. It seemed ages before it came to a stop. Johnny froze, certain that his mother must have heard it; worried that she might even be able to hear his breathing, which sounded appallingly loud to him. He had no idea how he would explain what he was doing if she came in, but he wanted the Secret of Instant Height so much that he had to take the risk. There was no sound from her room. He counted the money. It came to nine shillings and sevenpence. He only needed two-and-six, with a few pence more for the envelopes and stamps.

  He gathered up three shillings, and carefully put the rest back in the mug. The level of money had obviously dropped. Never mind: tomorrow he would get some stones to put under the cash, so that the theft didn’t show. But surely it wasn’t theft? It was borrowing. He promised himself that he would replace the coins, little by little, with the money Hutch paid him for delivering the papers. He wouldn’t spend it on sweets or comics. By Christmas there would be nine shillings and sevenpence in the mug again. His mother would never know that any had been missing. And in the meantime, Johnny would have the Secret of Instant Height. That was all he cared about now.

  Chapter 3

  SENDING OFF

  The next morning, Johnny left the house earlier than usual to help his mother carry the basket of sheets back to the Langfords’. On the way Winnie stopped off to check on their neighbour, Mrs Slack. She was an elderly widow who looked pretty healthy to Johnny, but always complained that she was ill. Winnie had mentioned once that she had ‘trouble with her nerves’.

  ‘Shall I do this washing-up for you, Mrs Slack?’ asked Winnie, rolling up her sleeves and putting the kettle on to boil.

  Mrs Slack waved her arm weakly in the direction of the sink. ‘I just couldn’t face it last night,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what’s come over me. It’s all I can do to raise a teacup to my lips. Heaven knows how the floor will ever get cleaned.’

  Winnie took the hint and asked Johnny to find her a bucket; then, while Winnie mopped, Mrs Slack listed her symptoms. Johnny tried not to listen. There were a lot of references to ‘down below’. Mrs Slack kept pointing at Johnny and then mouthing words silently. ‘I’d see the doctor,’ she said, at full volume, ‘but I don’t like to trouble him with my little problems.’

  Johnny’s mother knew that she meant she couldn’t, or wouldn’t, pay. ‘Dr Langford’s retired now,’ she explained. Johnny could tell from her voice that she had said this many times. ‘But I could have a quiet word with him if you would like me to. It would save you going to that new man across town.’

  ‘No. No need to put yourself out,’ said Mrs Slack, in a tone that even Johnny recognized as meaning the exact opposite.

  ‘Well, we’ll be off then,’ said Winnie. And they left Mrs Slack tucking in to a boiled egg and moaning about how she would be on her own all day.

  ‘Poor soul,’ sighed Winnie as they started off up the hill, each of them holding one handle of the washing basket.

  ‘Do you think she really is ill?’ asked Johnny.

  ‘Maybe. Maybe not. But she doesn’t have much of a life, and someone’s got to take care of her. If my mother was still alive, I wouldn’t want her to be all alone like that. I’d hope someone would drop in and make sure she was all right. It’s the least I can do.’

  Dr Langford’s house was up on the hill, directly opposite Miss Dangerfield’s. The doctor was leaving as Winnie and Johnny arrived. He was much older than Johnny’s mother, tall and spry, with wisps of grey hair at the back of a big bald patch. Johnny was fascinated by the way the structure of the doctor’s skull showed through the thin skin on his head. There was a prominent vein to one side that looked like a river on an ancient parchment map. You could see it throbbing when he was excited. Sometimes it seemed almost ready to pop. Today, Dr Langford hadn’t shaved properly, and there were clumps of stubble under his chin. His smart trousers were gathered into bicycle clips at his ankles.

  ‘My goodness, Doctor,’ said Johnny’s mother. ‘You’re up early.’

  ‘Yes, Winnie,’ said Dr Langford. ‘I had a call from the sanatorium at Emberley last night. I’m helping them with an emergency case. A little baby and her parents.’

  ‘Oh dear, the poor people,’ said Winnie.

  ‘It’s a shame,’ said the doctor, ‘but I have to admit to a certain excitement. It’s good to feel wanted even when you’ve retired.’ He bent down and pinched Johnny’s cheek in the way that adults think is playful, but actually hurts a lot. ‘And where are you off to so early, my boy? Surely it isn’t time for school yet?’

  ‘He has his paper round,’ said Johnny’s mother. ‘It gives him a bit of pocket money, you know.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Dr Langford. ‘I’ve seen you pushing the newspaper through the letter box. I’m sorry ours is so high up. It must be quite hard to reach.’ There was another painful pinch of the cheek. ‘You must eat up all your food, son. You’re a growing lad … or should be. How old are you now? Nine? Ten?’

  ‘Eleven,’ said Johnny, embarrassed, and all the more determined to get the Secret of Instant Height.

  ‘Well, I must be off,’ said the doctor, climbing onto his bike and adding, with a wink to Johnny, ‘I’ll give you a ride to the shop, if you like.’

  He lifted Johnny up and helped him balance on the crossbar, then swung himself onto the saddle and started to pedal. The bike rocked unnervingly, and Johnny wished for a moment that he had turned down the offer. Winnie waved, but Johnny didn’t dare take his hands off the handlebars to wave back. The bike looped in a circle, but then steadied and picked up speed as the doctor’s bony knees pumped harder. Seconds later, they were zooming down the hill. Johnny loved the rush of the wind against his face, and whooped with delight as they sped past the church and pulled up, wobbling again, outside Hutchinson’s General Store and Post Office. Dr Langford helped Johnny down and rode away.

  Inside the shop, Hutch was standing behind the counter, sorting out the morning papers.

  ‘Early today, I see,’ he grunted, parking his pencil behind his ear. ‘Makes up for last night, I suppose.’

  Buoyed up by the joy of the bike ride, Johnny found the courage to ask a favour. He needed Hutch’s help if he was to reply to the advert for the Secret of Instant Height. ‘Hutch,’ he said, ‘I want to buy a postal order and some stamps. Would you mind opening the post office so I can get them now?’

  ‘That would be most irregular,’ said Hutch, severely. ‘The post office mustn’t open till nine o’clock.’

  ‘But I’ll be at school then,’ said Johnny. He didn’t mean to sound desperate, but it did the trick. For once, Hutch contemplated bending the rules.

  ‘What’s so special about this postal order?’ he asked. ‘What’s the rush?’

  Johnny thought quickly, and his words tumbled out. ‘It’s for my mother,’ he said, making up a story as he spoke. ‘She needs to send it to my auntie, who’s ill. It’s to buy her a train ticket so she can visit us. Mum wants me to catch the first post. She told me to get an envelope too. And an extra envelope and stamp so Auntie Ada can write ba
ck.’

  He realized that he was getting himself into trouble. In a few seconds he had invented a sick aunt and invited her to Stambleton. He could already see that this deception was going to be quite hard to manage, and he also thought that it didn’t sound very believable. But Hutch seemed convinced.

  ‘Well,’ he said, fishing for the keys in his pocket, ‘since it’s a medical matter, I think I can bend the rules just this once.’ Hutch took off his brown overall, rolled down his shirt sleeves, put on his black jacket and straightened his tie, as he always did when working in the ‘post office’ part of the shop. He unlocked the safe and got out a large book, a cash box, his official rubber stamps and a big ink pad. ‘Very well, Johnny,’ he said, peering through the grille that separated the post office from the rest of the shop. ‘How much is this postal order for?’

  *

  And so Johnny left for his paper round with everything he needed to send off for the Secret of Instant Height. He stopped at the cemetery and laid it all out along the top of the wall. He took the newspaper cutting from his pocket and copied out the address of Box 23 onto one of the envelopes. Then he addressed the other to himself, stuck on a stamp and folded it so that it would fit inside the first. He wondered whether he should have written a letter to go with the postal order, but decided that the newspaper cutting would tell the people at Box 23 why he was contacting them, so he tucked that inside as well. He checked twice to make sure that everything was correct. Then he licked the glue on the outer envelope and stuck it down hard.

  The church clock chimed the half-hour. He was running late. He decided to reverse the usual order of his deliveries, so that Miss Dangerfield would get her paper first. He didn’t want to be in trouble with her again. There were too many other things to worry about. Suppose his mother discovered that the money was missing? Suppose Hutch found out that he didn’t really have an aunt? He wanted to tell someone all about it: someone who wouldn’t tell on him; who would sympathize, and reassure him that he had done the right thing. He sensed that Olwen would understand. If he really hurried he might find her in the playground before lessons began. He posted the letter and started to run.

  Chapter 4

  THE MEDICAL

  Johnny delivered all the papers before the school bell rang, but he couldn’t find Olwen in the playground then, or at morning break, or at lunch time.

  The last lesson of the day was Religious Knowledge. Johnny had been dreading it, because he hadn’t learned Genesis, Chapter 46, verses 8 to 24: a long list of names which the teacher, old Mr Wilson, had set as a punishment for the whole class after a mass fit of the giggles the week before. Johnny had tried. He’d got as far as Reuben, Jacob’s first born, and the sons of Reuben: Hanoch, and Phallu, and Hezron, and Carmi. But the sight of about thirty weird names looming ahead had driven him outside to kick an empty can around, and then he’d forgotten all about it. Now he was preparing himself for the thwack of a ruler against his leg, or a belt across his backside as a punishment.

  Suddenly he believed in miracles. A big boy came into the classroom with a message for the teacher. The lesson was cancelled. Everyone was to go to the school hall at once for a special assembly. There was a great scraping of chairs as the children jumped up, full of boisterous relief. It seemed that quite a few hadn’t learned that fearsome list.

  ‘No talking!’ shouted Mr Wilson, who looked as surprised by the change of plan as the rest of them. ‘Line up in alphabetical order and follow me.’

  All the other classes were filing into the hall. The headmaster was on the edge of the stage, telling everyone to hurry up and to sit cross-legged on the floor so that the whole school could get in. It was only after Johnny had taken his place, crammed in between Albert Taylor and Ernest Roberts, that he noticed two people sitting on chairs behind the headmaster. It was the school nurse, and Dr Langford, with a stethoscope round his neck.

  The headmaster called for silence and stillness. ‘As you can see, we have a visitor. Many of you may already know Dr Langford.’

  There was an outbreak of chatter as the children compared notes on visits to the doctor. Johnny started telling Ernest how he’d had a ride on Dr Langford’s bike only that morning. The teachers, who were sitting on chairs all round the edge of the hall, shushed everyone quiet. Mr Wilson leaned forward and slapped Johnny on the head to shut him up.

  The headmaster continued, ‘Dr Langford has informed me that the family of one of our pupils has become infected with a serious illness.’

  There was another buzz of talking, quickly stopped by the staff.

  ‘Silence,’ barked the headmaster. ‘This is a most important matter. We have no reason to suppose that any of you are ill, but it is necessary for you to be checked straight away. You must all strip down to your underwear and make your way to the stage. Fold your clothes neatly, and leave them to mark your place.’

  Johnny was horrified. He hadn’t expected to have to undress today. He was wearing his oldest pants and vest. They were full of holes, and badly needed a wash. He knew he’d be teased by the other boys, especially Albert Taylor who, because of the alphabet, was right next to him. He expected Ernest Roberts on his other side to have a go at him too. Ernest lived a few doors down from the Swansons. He had been Johnny’s friend and playmate until that term, when Mrs Roberts had taken him to the optician and he’d been prescribed thick spectacles. The boys at school were no kinder to Ernest than the girls had been to Olwen. Constant jokes about Ernest’s glasses had made him crack. Now he did Albert Taylor’s bidding in return for his protection. He’d become Taylor’s shadow, doing his homework and doling out insults and menace on command. If that meant persecuting his old friend, Johnny, for being short and poor, it was a price Ernest felt he had to pay.

  Shivering with fear rather than cold, Johnny slowly pulled off his jumper and shirt. He saw Mr Wilson advancing again, ready to strike. Johnny winced, but Wilson reached across him and wrenched at Albert Taylor’s arm instead, revealing an inky trail that ran from his wrist to his elbow.

  ‘What’s this, boy?’ shouted Mr Wilson. ‘See me after school.’ He gave Taylor’s arm a quick twist as he flung it down again, and Albert huddled into himself, trying to hide the list of biblical names he’d written on his skin: Jamin, Ohad, Jachin, Zohar, Shaul, and many more. From the stage, the headmaster sent one of his nasty stares across to the group of boys around Taylor. It promised trouble in the future.

  But the head had more pressing business. ‘Right,’ he said when everyone was undressed. ‘Now come up, class by class, one by one, to see the doctor. Then go back to your places and get dressed again.’

  Another murmur ran through the hall. ‘Silence!’ cried the headmaster. ‘The doctor needs quiet. He has to listen to your chests.’ Everyone except Taylor obeyed. He was whispering threats into Johnny’s ear, blaming him for Mr Wilson’s attack. ‘If you weren’t so small, he’d never have been able to see me,’ he said, while Ernest Roberts surreptitiously ground his heel onto Johnny’s foot as they stood in line. Johnny looked round the hall to see if Olwen was being taunted too. He spotted Mrs Palmer’s class, but she wasn’t among them.

  Dr Langford came to the front of the stage and explained what he was going to do. ‘Now, children, I am going to listen to your lungs, but you’re also going to have a special test, which will show us very soon whether you have been infected. All I have to do is make a little scratch on your wrist …’

  There was a mass cry of ‘Urggh!’

  ‘… No, really, you will hardly notice it, and in two or three days I’ll be able to tell whether any of you might need treatment. But don’t worry. That’s very unlikely indeed.’

  The doctor briskly examined each child. Occasionally he asked the school nurse to make a note of something, or had a little chat with a child he knew well. When Johnny’s turn came he smiled. ‘Well, I never thought I’d be doing all this when I saw you this morning,’ he said.

  ‘What are you checking for?’
asked Johnny.

  ‘TB, I’m afraid,’ said Dr Langford, scraping Johnny’s wrist while he was distracted. He lifted Johnny’s vest and listened to his stethoscope. ‘But I’m sure you’ve got nothing to worry about, my boy. Your chest is nice and clear.’ The school nurse put a tick against Johnny’s name, and moved the line on.

  When everyone had been dealt with, the headmaster had a quick conversation with the doctor while the last of the children got back into their clothes. Then he called for quiet again and addressed the school. ‘I’m sure we’re all very grateful to Dr Langford for giving up his time to come here today. Now, there’s no more time for lessons, so we’ll stay here in the hall until home-time. Mr Wilson, perhaps you would like to lead us in some prayers.’

  Mr Wilson stepped forward and prayed for the safe recovery of sick people everywhere. As the bell went to mark the end of the day, everyone burst into the same question: who was the child whose family illness had caused all this fuss?

  In the playground, Albert Taylor’s sister rushed up, flushed with pride at being able to tell her big brother the news. ‘It’s that new girl,’ she said. ‘The one I told you about. The Owl. Mrs Palmer says she’s gone back to Wales. Good riddance to bad rubbish, that’s what I say.’

  ‘What’s wrong with her?’ asked Taylor.