Secrets and Shadows (12 page)

G
race sprinted excitedly up Manor Place. She rounded the corner into Norseman Place where she saw Barry pretending to be engrossed with hopping a ball on a hurley. In fact he was discreetly keeping watch on the rear entrance to Mr Pawlek’s house, just as Grace had been watching the front entrance on Manor Street.

Barry looked up expectantly. ‘Well?’

‘He went out. He’s dressed up, so I’d say he’s gone somewhere.’

‘Right,’ said Barry.

‘Now’s our chance,’ said Grace, feeling really nervous, but excited at the same time. It was three days since she had searched the teacher’s bag in the sand dunes, and after a lot of discussion she and Barry had decided that Saturday night – when most adults went out – would be their best opportunity to enter Mr Pawlek’s house.

Grace looked up and down the road. Norseman Place consisted of a terrace of cottages, opposite which were the back garden walls of houses in Manor Street, including the house rented by Mr Pawlek. Grace had already checked the rear entrance door, but it was locked. She was going to have to climb over the wall, which, fortunately, wasn’t too high. She could see small children playing at the far end of the road, and a middle-aged woman was walking along the pavement towards herself and Barry.

‘Give us a go with the hurley, will you?’ said Grace.

Barry handed over the hurley and Grace began tapping the ball up in the air. The woman walked past, paying little heed to the two friends. Grace waited until the woman had rounded the corner, then she looked up and down the road again. Apart from the small children it was all clear. Of course, someone could be looking out the front window of one of the cottages, so Grace began to hit the ball higher in the air, then contrived to knock it over the wall into Mr Pawlek’s back garden

‘Blast!’ she said in mock annoyance. ‘Give us a hoosh up, Barry!’

Barry stood with his back to the garden wall and held his hands together, fingers intertwined. Grace ran towards him and placed her foot in the locked hands. Barry swiftly lifted her up in the air, and she gripped the top of the wall. She hoisted herself up to sit on it, then swung round, lowered herself by her arms and dropped down into the garden. She felt a jolt go up through the soles of her feet, then heard the sound of Barry’s voice from the far side of the wall.

‘I’ll help find the ball!’ he cried.

Grace heard the sound of running footsteps as Barry ran at the wall, then he too hoisted himself up and sat on the top, before swinging over and dropping down into the garden. He immediately pocketed the ball, and they both moved swiftly to the back door of the house.

‘Worth a try,’ said Grace softly as she reached out for the handle of the back door.

‘Pity,’ said Barry when the locked door didn’t budge.

‘OK, give us the knife,’ she said.

Barry reached into his pocket and removed a flat table knife that he had wrapped in a handkerchief. Grace took it from him and approached a downstairs window, praying her plan would work. To her relief, the lock on the window was the same as the one she had noted on the front window of the house. Grace started to slide the flat blade of the knife between the upper and lower halves of the window. She had seen Ma doing this once when they were accidentally locked out, and the trick was to slide the knife in and then use it to push the lock sideways so the lower half of the window could be pulled up.

Grace got the knife in place and pushed, but nothing happened. She pushed again, but still the lock was too stiff.

‘Here, let me try,’ said Barry

But Grace felt that this was her suggestion, and she didn’t want to be shown up by a boy, even her friend Barry. ‘Hold on,’ she said. She tried again, pressing with all of her strength, and suddenly the lock snapped sideways.

‘Yes!’ she whispered triumphantly, and Barry smiled and gave her a thumbs-up sign.

Without wasting any time, Grace slid the window up and climbed into what she realised was the kitchen. Barry followed immediately after her, quietly closing the window behind him. The kitchen was warm, and the dust they had disturbed on the window ledge danced in the beams of evening sunlight that filled the air.

‘OK, let’s split up like we said,’ suggested Grace.

‘All right,’ answered Barry, making for the hallway so that he could climb the stairs and search the upstairs rooms, while Grace did the ground floor. ‘Good hunting,’ he said, with a nervous grin.

‘You too,’ replied Grace, trying for a grin in return, but feeling really frightened at what they were doing. Even though it looked like Mr Pawlek had gone out for the evening, she couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t return. The quicker they got this done the better, but at the same time there was no point breaking in if they were going to be too scared to search the place properly. Forcing her fears to the back of her mind, Grace began systematically searching the kitchen. She opened and examined drawers and presses, making sure to replace everything exactly as she had found it.

The most important thing that an enemy agent would have was a radio set for sending out signals in code, but Grace was also on the lookout for drawings, photographs or perhaps even a gun.

She searched the kitchen thoroughly, but found nothing suspicious. A little disappointed, Grace moved on to the pantry behind the kitchen and continued her search there. She reckoned that Barry was just as nervous as she was, but she was confident that he wouldn’t lose his nerve, and would carefully check out the upstairs rooms, going through wardrobes and chests of drawers, and looking under the beds.

Grace worked her way through every press, cupboard and drawer in the pantry but found nothing out of the ordinary. She finally gave up on the pantry and kitchen, and was making for the
downstairs living room and parlour when she met Barry coming down the staircase.

‘Finished upstairs?’ she said.

‘Yeah, found nothing.’

‘Is there an attic?’

‘Yes,’ said Barry, ‘but it’s high up. You’d need a ladder to reach it. He wouldn’t want to get a ladder every time he sends a radio message.’

‘No.’

‘Why don’t I do the front room here and you do the back one?’ Barry suggested.

Grace nodded in agreement. ‘OK.’

She moved into the living room. Like everywhere else in the house, Mr Pawlek had it neat and tidy, but it had a lived-in feel, with sheet music propped up on an opened piano and a newspaper on the table.
This is the place where he actually lives
, thought Grace. She felt a tingle of excitement run up her spine, as she sensed that they were closer to their quarry here than anywhere else in the house.

She worked her way around the room, noting that the piano piece was ‘Für Elise’ by Beethoven.
German music,
she thought, even though she knew that Beethoven was popular because he was a great composer, and not because he was German.
Still though
…

She worked her way methodically towards a curtained alcove on the far side of the room, then stopped. On a small coffee table a map of Europe was spread out. The recent Nazi advances during
the invasion of the Soviet Union were marked on the map, and Grace felt another little shiver up her spine.

‘Barry!’ she called, ‘look at this.’

Barry came in from the other room, and Grace pointed out the map to him.

‘So he’s interested in the war in Russia,’ he said thoughtfully.

‘I know it’s not exactly proof,’ said Grace.

‘No, loads of people follow the war. I do, your Uncle Freddie does…’

‘Even so, it’s the first thing we’ve seen that could be suspicious. Nothing in the front room?’

‘No, I was just about to come and join you. What’s behind the curtain?’ said Barry, indicating the curtained alcove.

‘I don’t know,’ said Grace, ‘I was working my way towards it.’

They both moved across the room, and Grace pulled back the curtain. The alcove wasn’t very deep, and neatly stowed against the wall were a folded ironing board, a sweeping brush and a mop and bucket. Of more interest, however, was a press set into the wall. It had a door that was designed to swing outwards. Grace stared at it, her pulses quickening.
The door was sealed with a new-looking padlock.

Grace looked at Barry and could see that he grasped the significance at once.

‘What would a drill teacher have that needs to be locked away behind a curtain?’ he said.

‘Exactly.’ Grace started to examine the lock when suddenly she
was startled by a series of loud knocks on the heavy wooden front door.

‘Mother of God!’ she said, her heart seeming to explode in her chest.

Barry looked scared too but he whispered, ‘It can’t be Mr Pawlek, he wouldn’t knock.’

‘Maybe it’s someone who saw us coming in over the back wall. Maybe it’s the police!’

‘Oh no!’ said Barry. ‘Will we run out the back?’

‘Let’s see who it is first,’ said Grace, forcing herself to think straight despite her thumping heart. ‘I’ll run upstairs and peek out the window!’

Before Barry could respond, Grace ran from the kitchen. Moving lightly so that her footsteps wouldn’t be heard, she ascended the stairs two steps at a time. She quickly made her way to the window of what was a spare bedroom, then very cautiously pulled back a portion of the lace curtain. She prayed with all her might not to see a policeman on the doorstep. When she looked down she saw a well built man standing slightly back from the door.

A detective?
Grace felt a surge of panic.
What would happen if he caught them? And how on earth could they possibly explain what they were doing breaking into the teacher’s house?
And then Grace felt a wave of joyous relief when she saw what the man had in his hands. He was a ticket seller, calling to try and sell raffle tickets for some charity.

Grace breathed out deeply and stepped back from the window as the man turned away. It had been a terrifying moment, and she decided now that they had learnt all that they could for tonight.
Time to get out of here,
she thought, then she re-crossed the room, made for the stairs and descended at speed.

‘W
hen the Saints go Marching In’ played on the gramophone, and Barry tapped in time with his foot as he relaxed on Sunday night in the parlour of Grandma’s house.

‘Great song, Grace. Full marks to Uncle Freddie for once,’ he said with a grin, indicating the gramophone record that his friend had borrowed from her uncle’s collection.

‘He’s still an eejit. You should have heard him in the park today, trying to butter Ma up.’

‘What did he say?’ asked Barry.

Grace wickedly mimicked her uncle trying to sound solicitous: ‘Could I interest you in a ripple ice cream, Nancy?’

Barry laughed, and Grace smiled ruefully.

‘Easy for you to laugh. But I was praying for Ma to give him the brush off. He’d make you sick when he’s like that.’

Barry hesitated, but then felt that as a friend he should alert Grace. ‘Look, I know, Grace, you don’t want to hear this, but maybe…maybe your mum likes him, you know?’

‘Do you mean
fancies
him?’

‘Well, yeah.’

‘She doesn’t.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Because I asked her.’

Barry was taken aback. ‘Really? You asked your mother that?’

Grace nodded. ‘It was awful. I didn’t know where to start. But it was driving me mad, and I was really worried that maybe, just maybe, she did like him. So in the end I blurted it out.’

‘What did she say?’

‘That Freddie and Granddad had been really good to us, so we had to be nice, too. But she had no plans to re-marry. And if she ever had, Freddie would be the last man in the world she’d pick.’

‘That’s your problem solved then.’

‘Not really. I mean
I
know now, and that’s good. But she hasn’t told Freddie. And he’s the one who needs to know.’

‘He’ll probably catch on in the end.’

‘The sooner the better. So, what did you do today?’

‘I was in the park as well. Myself and Charlie took Blackie up to the dog pond for a swim.’

‘Great.’

‘Yeah, it was good fun. I needed something relaxing. I couldn’t sleep for ages last night after we got back from Mr Pawlek’s.’

‘Me neither,’ said Grace ‘And when I
did
sleep I dreamt that your man knocking on the door really was the police. It turned into a sort of nightmare.’

Barry felt bad. ‘Maybe I…maybe I shouldn’t have dragged you into all this, Grace–’ he began.

‘Don’t be daft!’ said Grace, cutting him short. ‘We’re in this together. And yeah, it was scary last night, but I still wouldn’t have missed it.’

‘Sure?’

‘Just try keeping me out of it!’

Barry felt a surge of affection and he smiled at Grace. ‘Fair enough. So,’ he added, ‘have you thought about what we do next?’

Grace nodded. ‘We know how to get into his house. Somehow we have to get into the locked press.’

‘Yeah.’

Just then the record came to the end.

‘Here, put on “Jeepers Creepers” again,’ said Grace, ‘I really like that one.’

‘OK.’ Barry was reaching out to take the record from its sleeve when he heard a knock on the front door. Grandma was at Sunday evening Benediction in the church, and he wasn’t expecting any callers.

He thought nervously about their break-in the previous evening. They had re-locked the window and had exited the house through the front door, as though they were visitors leaving, and he had collected the hurley before heading home. But of course they could still have been spotted and reported to the police. Supposing this was the police, calling to question him?

‘Are you not going to get that?’ asked Grace.

‘Let’s just see who it is,’ said Barry as he crossed to the window. He looked out carefully. There was no sign of a police car parked outside, but he couldn’t see who was standing at the front door.

‘Well?’ said Grace.

‘I can’t see. If it’s the police, say we climbed over for the ball last
night, but admit nothing else, OK?’

‘OK,’ answered Grace uneasily.

‘Right,’ said Barry then he took a deep breath and made for the hall.

There was another series of knocks, and Barry called out ‘Coming.’ He reached the door, gathered himself for a moment, then opened it.

‘Surprised?’ said the caller.

Barry stood unmoving, rooted to the spot in shock.

‘Looks like you are.’

Barry’s face suddenly lit up with a huge smile. ‘Mum!’ he cried and the next thing he knew he was embraced in the arms of his teary-eyed mother.

Granddad hummed along happily as Joe Loss played on the radio.

‘Ah, your favourite, Granddad,’ said Grace as she came into the kitchen and recognised the bandleader’s version of ‘In the Mood’. She had arranged to go round to Viking Place this evening for a game of hopscotch with May Bennett, but she paused now on finding Granddad alone.

‘Wonderful musician,’ said Granddad, ‘great rhythms.’

‘Yeah, I love the way you want to move to the music. And of course there’s one other great thing about him,’ she said playfully.

‘What’s that?’

‘He’s not Mantovani!’ said Grace, and Granddad laughed at the fact that she had picked up on the Joe Loss versus Mantovani arguments that he had with Freddie.

‘That Mantovani fella – he’s too lush to be wholesome!’
said Grace, mimicking her grandfather.

He laughed goodnaturedly. ‘I wouldn’t take that cheek from anyone but my favourite lodger.’

This was a running gag with Granddad. ‘Sure I wouldn’t say it to anyone but my favourite granddad!’ Grace responded. This was a gag too, as Ma’s father, her other grandfather, had died before she was born.

Granddad smiled. ‘Well, while we’re praising each other, you might as well know. Nellie Kinsella is very taken with you.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah, she likes having you in the shop. Says you’re a great little worker.’

Grace had been getting on well with Miss Kinsella, but it was still good to hear the compliment. ‘That’s nice of her.’

‘No more than the truth. And Nellie’s a good judge of character, mind.’

‘Thanks. And…eh, how did you come to be friends with her?’ asked Grace curiously.

‘Sure myself and Nellie go back donkey’s years.’

Grace raised an eyebrow. ‘Oh?’

‘Not like that, you scamp. When I was a carpenter in the distillery I worked with Nellie’s brother, Jack, before he moved
to Sheffield. And your granny, God be good to her, got to know Nellie, and we all played cards together.’

‘Right,’ answered Grace. The mention of carpentry had given her an idea, and she tried to make her next enquiry sound casual. ‘Talking about being a carpenter, Granddad, can I ask you something about locks?’

‘What about them?’

‘Well, aren’t carpenters involved when locks are put on doors?’

‘Yes. I mean, locksmiths make the locks and keys, but carpenters often fit them. Why do you ask?’

‘It’s eh…it’s this book I’m reading. The boy in it picks a padlock, and I was wondering how you do that?’ Grace didn’t like lying, but she couldn’t tell Granddad the real reason behind her question.

He looked at her. ‘You’re not thinking of breaking in somewhere, are you?’

‘No.’

‘I don’t want to hear from Nellie Kinsella that the jam for the jam slices has vanished!’

Grace was relieved that he was only joking. ‘No, it’s just that in this book the boy picks a lock to escape. But what do you actually
do
?’

‘You have to put something into the lock that’s manoeuvrable, but still stiff. Say, like a small nail file or a safety pin. Then you move it around, this way and that. What you’re trying to do is trip the internal levers, the way a key would, so it springs open.’

‘And is it hard to do? Like, would it take long?’

‘It depends on the lock. And how lucky you are, and how patient.’

‘Right.’

‘What’s the book about?’

Grace had to think quickly. ‘It’s eh, it’s a kind of adventure story about a group of children who track down a gang of smugglers.’

‘I see. Well, probably quicker to pick a lock in a book than in real life,’ said Granddad.

‘I suppose so,’ said Grace. ‘Anyway I better go, I’m meeting May.’

‘Mind the trams!’ said Granddad with a smile.

Grace smiled back, then made for the door, her mind playing over the words her grandfather had said.
It depends on the lock. And how lucky you are, and how patient.
There was only one way to find out. And that would mean going back to Mr Pawlek’s house.