Two Penn'orth of Sky (20 page)

‘We all are,’ Wendy said mournfully, rubbing her skinny arms. ‘I don’t think me muscles will ever be quite the same again. What’s more, we’re miles an’ miles away from the market, so there won’t be no return load, like. Did he give you two tanners, Di, or were it all in coppers?’

Diana rooted in her pocket, feeling a sudden trepidation. There were three coins, about the size of a sixpence . . . her fingers closed round the money, and for a moment she actually believed that the man had
handed over a bit extra. She was beginning to smile as her hand came out of her pocket, and then the smile was wiped clean off her face by the sight of the three coins nestling in her palm. Without saying anything, she handed the money to Wendy, then began to turn her pocket inside out, knowing as she did so that it was useless. The man had given her three farthings, had known what he was doing, and now he had made a complete fool of her. She felt tears rise to her eyes, blurring the three farthings until they looked like six; Charlie was going to be so cross with her – and rightly.

Charlie leaned across and stared, unbelievingly, at the three farthings. As Diana watched, a tide of crimson flooded his face. ‘The wicked old blighter,’ he said furiously. ‘Well, we know where he lives.’ He snatched the three coins from Wendy’s hand, then jerked Diana to her feet. ‘C’mon!’

They returned to the house on Brownlow Hill, indignation speeding their footsteps. Charlie hammered on the door – you could scarcely call it knocking – but there was a long wait before it was answered, and then it was crashed open impatiently, and a voice said: ‘What d’you want?’ The three children all stepped back, mouths dropping open in astonishment. A policemen stood there, his tall, domed helmet on his head, his long overcoat and regulation boots announcing that here, indeed, was a scuffer. For a moment, no one recognised him, then Diana saw his mean little eyes glittering in the shadow of his helmet and realised that their enemy had not merely turned into a policeman, but had been one all along.

‘Well? I’m just off to work so don’t you come botherin’ my good lady while I’m away.’

‘We want our money,’ Charlie said, when the two girls did not so much as open their mouths. ‘We agreed a bob and you said you’d put the money into Di’s pocket, but it were three farthings, norreven a perishin’ penny. If it were a joke, then it weren’t a very funny one and you owe us elevenpence farthing.’

‘If the kid’s gone an’ lost the bob I gave her, then you’d best go back to the hall, keepin’ your eyes down,’ the policeman said, beginning to close the door. ‘Clear orff or I’ll gi’ you a whackin’ you won’t forget in a hurry.’

Charlie began to speak again but the policeman slammed the door and they could hear his boots stomping off down the hallway. In a frenzy of frustrated rage, Charlie hurled himself at the door once more and began to bang on it, but Diana caught at his jacket and tugged as hard as she could. ‘Don’t, Charlie, don’t,’ she said imploringly. ‘I know he’s a horrible old man and a cheat, but he’s a scuffer! It will just be his word against ours and no one believes kids rather than a policeman. Oh, come away, do!’

‘I’m going round to the police station and I’ll tell ’em all that the feller what lives over on Brownlow Hill cheated us out of our money.’ But Diana took one of his hands and Wendy the other, and they towed him away from the policeman’s front door.

‘It’s no use, Charlie,’ Wendy said. ‘Di’s right; no one would believe us, or even if they did, they couldn’t make the feller give us our dosh. But we knows where he lives an’ he don’t know us from Adam. One day, when we ain’t so busy savin’ up for Christmas, we’ll do something really horrible to him.’ She tilted her head in a considering manner. ‘Dead rats through his letter box? Or we could chuck
a stone through his window if we come up in the middle of the night, so’s we aren’t caught.’

Charlie allowed himself to be led away, but when he saw that Diana was crying he put a brotherly arm round her shoulders and said, through gritted teeth, ‘Never mind, it weren’t your fault; he knew damn well you couldn’t check the money what he’d put in your pocket, not with both arms round his perishin’ Christmas tree. But he’s a wicked old bugger and we’ll get even with him one day, I promise you.’

‘I’ll do it,’ Diana said tearfully, knuckling her eyes. ‘I’ll spread lard on his doorstep an’ I hope he breaks his back! Oh, Charlie, I ache all over, honest to God I do. And I’m so scratched! And I did want some money so’s I could buy some things for Christmas.’

‘Well, tomorrow’s the last day of school, and then there’s two whole days before Christmas,’ Charlie said comfortingly. He turned to Wendy. ‘Tomorrow’s out, of course, but do you have anything planned for the next day? If not, the pair of you can come with me. I’ve got a pair of old garden shears and I’m goin’ to cut holly to sell on the market stalls, or from door to door. With three of us at it, we’ll make a nice little sum an’ there’ll still be a day to go before Christmas.’

Wendy grinned gratefully at Charlie. ‘That ’ud be just grand,’ she said. ‘We’ll come along with you, won’t we, Di?’

‘Yes, of course we will,’ Diana said joyfully. ‘Wendy an’ me can start in the morning, Charlie, ’cos we won’t bother to go to school tomorrow, not on the last day.’

Charlie cocked a quizzical eye at her but said nothing, and when Diana’s mam was making their tea that evening he came knocking at the door. He grinned at Diana and then held up a threepenny
piece. ‘I went round to that house on Brownlow Hill and spoke to the woman what answered the door when we first knocked,’ he said. ‘I told her what her old man had done and at first she just grinned, spiteful like. But then I got Tatum and Hector out of me pocket and pretended I were goin’ to throw them at her. She give a scream like a train whistle and started gibberin’, saying she’d call the scuffers, she’d clip my ear . . . an’ all the time, she were edgin’ backwards an’ I were edgin’ forwards. I told ’er if she’d just pay me the bob I’d go, an’ I’d take me pals wi’ me. An’ I tell you, the money just flew out o’ her purse. So here’s your share, except for the other penny, which you can have in the mornin’.’

Diana began to ask for more details but Charlie, grinning, said he must go since he had another call to make, and disappeared out of their door once more. Diana smiled, rather doubtfully, at her mother. ‘He’s ever so kind, Charlie,’ she said. ‘I – I’m saving up for Christmas, so we’ve been earning a bit of money . . . I do like Charlie, Mam.’

‘Yes, I’m sure he’s very nice,’ Emmy said distractedly. ‘But who are Tatum and Hector? And why did Charlie threaten to throw them at someone? No, I want a proper explanation, Diana, so sit yourself down and start talking.’

Diana heaved an enormous sigh; she could see that her free and easy life was about to become public knowledge and guessed she had a difficult time ahead. ‘Tatum and Hector are Charlie’s mice,’ she said. ‘And – and there was this horrible lady . . . oh dear, I suppose I had better start right at the beginning . . .’

*

When the story was told Emmy sat for a long moment, elbows resting on the table, chin cupped in her hands. Things were beginning to fall into place at last and the letter she had received that morning was no longer quite such a mystery. The letter had been from the headmaster of Diana’s school. He had stated that though Mrs Wesley had written to the school, informing them that the family had moved to Garston, he had been unable to find any member of staff, in any of the Garston schools, who had received Diana as a pupil. Puzzled by this, he had asked young Charlie Fisher whether he could supply the school with Mrs Wesley’s new address and Charlie had told him that their address was still No. 2 Nightingale Court, and had asked the headmaster whether he was confusing it with Lancaster Avenue, where the Wesleys had lived the previous year.

Since Diana had not been in school for many weeks now, he had considered it his duty to contact her parent and to ask her to visit him at the earliest opportunity.
I do realise, Mrs Wesley, that you are now in full-time employment and may find it difficult to attend school between 9.00 a.m. and 4.00 p.m., but if you could visit on the last day of term, I am always in the building until 8.00 p.m. supervising the cleaners and making sure that all is well
, his letter had said.
Diana is a bright child and we have great hopes for her but constant – indeed prolonged – absence can do nothing but harm. However, if you have already entered her in a private school, please ignore this letter
.

Emmy had been flabbergasted, had believed that there must be two children named Diana in her daughter’s class. Did she not see the child leaving for school each morning, neatly dressed and with her satchel on one shoulder? Did not Diana regale her
with stories of her day in school when she, Emmy, returned from work? But, in telling her story just now, Diana had made it plain that she had not attended school today and had not meant to do so tomorrow. And Mr Ellis, the headmaster, had made it equally plain that Diana had not been in school for weeks. Emmy stared across the table at her daughter’s bland little face. Diana was looking down at the table, her long dark lashes veiling her eyes. For a moment, Emmy wondered wildly what she should do or say. Diana was her beloved child; surely she would not lie? And she
liked
school, had always done so. Yet there was the letter . . .

Emmy got to her feet and walked over to the mantelpiece, where Mr Ellis’s letter was propped up behind the clock. She took it down, removed the neatly written pages from the envelope and placed them before Diana. ‘Read that,’ she said, her voice even. ‘And then tell me just what has been going on.’

Diana raised her eyes for a moment and Emmy could see the guilt and misery in them. Poor kid, she thought impulsively. If she had been truanting, it would be because wretched Wendy Telford had led her into bad ways. She had never approved of the friendship and now she knew she had been right. Diana would not have dreamed of missing even a day’s schooling until she met Wendy. Wendy was a bad lot – the whole Telford family was a bad lot – so though Emmy was deeply disappointed over Diana’s behaviour, she could not blame her completely. I should blame myself, she thought remorsefully. I should have put my foot down right at the start and told her to keep well away from Wendy and her family. I shouldn’t have let Wendy visit us here . . .

She took a seat opposite Diana and watched closely as the child read the letter. She saw tears rise to Diana’s eyes and begin to trickle down her cheeks; heard muffled sobs start as Diana finished reading the letter, pushed it aside, laid her head on her arms and began to cry in earnest. ‘Oh, Mammy, I’m sorry, truly I am,’ she mumbled. ‘Only – only Miss Williams is the most boringest teacher in the whole world, and – and the other girls started calling me teacher’s pet again, ’cos I couldn’t help getting top marks. And Wendy was left behind in the lower class with a new teacher, and he’s a beast, Mammy, honest he is. He whacks and kicks and says horrible things – he hates Wendy and she hates him. And Wendy was going to have to move in with her aunt ’cos her mam couldn’t afford the rent and she’s my friend, my only friend really. So when she said she wasn’t coming into school again because she needed to earn money so the Telfords could stay in the court, I – I wrote letters to Miss Williams and Mr Withers telling them that neither Wendy nor me would be in school ’cos we were moving away. Oh, Mammy, I’m so, so sorry!’

Emmy longed to run to her daughter and give her a great big hug, and tell her that it was all right, that she had done a wrong thing but that she, Emmy, understood her reasons and would always stand by her. However, she knew that Peter would have been furious with her had she acted in such a manner. By her own admission, Diana had forged two letters, told a great many lies and caused a deal of trouble. It was all very well saying that Miss Williams was a bad teacher, but even Diana must realise that bad teachers came one’s way occasionally and simply had to be endured. So Emmy remained sitting in her chair, though she did stretch a hand across the table
to push the hair out of Diana’s eyes, saying bracingly as she did so: ‘Now it’s pointless getting in a state, Diana, because what’s done is done. You’ve been very naughty indeed; you’ve done a great many bad things, but I believe you did them because Wendy encouraged you. She’s a good deal older than you and should definitely have known better. Now I shall have to see what I must do to put things right. First and foremost, you must come with me to your school tomorrow – fortunately, I’m on the late shift – and explain to Mr Ellis just what has been going on.’

Diana quailed. ‘Oh, Mammy, I can’t, I can’t! How can I tell Mr Ellis that I sagged off school because Miss Williams was the boringest teacher in the world? He’ll be ever so cross. He might even cane me – and it wasn’t Wendy’s fault because it was my idea to write the notes. Oh, please don’t make me see Mr Ellis. I know what I did was wrong, but I’m only six. Children of six are – are irresponsible, isn’t that true?’

Emmy hid a smile. ‘It doesn’t matter what age you are, darling, because you knew very well that what you were doing was wrong. The letters you wrote to the teachers were forgeries . . . do you understand what that means? And you’ve been telling me lies, haven’t you? You’ve been telling me what happened to you in school on days when you’ve not been there at all. I’m just so glad that Daddy never knew his little girl was a liar and a cheat.’

This produced such a frenzied wail that Emmy was forced to take Diana on her lap and tell her that this must be a lesson to her. ‘Always tell the truth, no matter what the consequences,’ she said impressively. ‘There’s a saying which you might do well to learn –
Oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we practise to deceive
, and you can see how true it is. You
started off with one little lie and you ended up having to tell more and more to keep your guilty secret. Now stop crying and go up and wash your face and brush your hair. Tomorrow morning, first thing, we’ll go round to school and face Mr Ellis together.’

The interview next day was a painful one, though Mr Ellis did not wield his cane. What he did do was impress upon Diana the error of her ways and tell her that, as a result of not being in school, she might well have to spend an extra year in Miss Williams’s class. This elicited such a groan from Diana that Emmy saw the headmaster’s lips twitch, but it certainly added the final touch to her daughter’s regrets over her behaviour. Clearly, the thought of two whole years under Miss Williams’s sway was enough to make Diana promise earnestly never to play truant again.