‘You filthy little blackmailer!’
‘Don’t waste your fancy words on me,’ his father interrupted. ‘If you don’t want to lose them nippers of yours, you’ll persuade Maureen to let me take Henry. If she don’t, I’m sure the courts will be on my side once they read the doctor’s reports. They’d understand why I’d put the kids up for adoption. And I don’t think you need me to remind you that since you ain’t married to Maureen, you ain’t got any legal rights over what happens to them.’
Henry didn’t want to hear any more. He moved down the last few steps and made for the front door. To his alarm the outline of his gran appeared behind the frosted window. He ran into her room and hid behind the door, listening to her footsteps in the hall getting closer. The door handle turned. He could hear her breathing. She was obviously eavesdropping.
‘He’s my flesh and blood. And he’s moving to London to live with me!’
He heard the kitchen door being flung open.
‘You tell him, son. You tell him,’ cried Gran.
‘Mum!’ he heard his dad yell.
‘At last!’ Gran cried. ‘You’ve come to rescue me. I told you what I was up against!’
Henry waited till the kitchen door was closed before slipping into the hall. Once he had bolted out of the front door and into the street, he began running. His legs felt like jelly. I told you what I was up against, his gran had said. She and his father must have already met one another during the week. But when and where? And how could she have been able to hide it so well? Resisting the urge to vomit, he drove himself forward with ferocity. His eyes were hurting from the strain of suppressing his tears, and his jaw was so clamped it ached. He stumbled on past Mrs Beaumont’s house, ignoring the pain in his side. It was only when he found himself staggering past the Princes Road Police Station that he realised he was on his way to the Apollo.
Mrs Beaumont was only yards away from the box office. Sweating and shaking, Henry blundered up to her, thrust a hand into his trouser pocket and prayed that the handful of coins he held out to her would be enough.
‘Henry,’ she said, ‘you’d rather die than see this film.’
‘I wouldn’t,’ he lied.
‘It’s full of romance.’
‘I can take it.’
She closed his fingers around the money.
‘Put it away.’
‘But I need you to get me in.’
‘No, you don’t. It’s a U.’
‘Is it?’
She took hold of his arm and marched him firmly out of the queue.
‘You’ll lose your place,’ he stammered weakly.
‘I’ll see it later. Come with me.’
She walked briskly with him back towards the Kings Theatre and into a small café. She dragged him towards a table in the corner where it was most private. Henry watched her in a daze as she ordered buns he would be unable to eat and a pot of tea. They waited silently for the waitress to bring the tray to their table. Once she had left them alone, Mrs Beaumont poured Henry a cup of tea and dunked two large spoonfuls of sugar into it.
‘I don’t have sugar,’ he began.
‘You do this afternoon. You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.’
Henry stared at her. He could feel his lower lip trembling from the sheer strain of holding everything in.
She pushed the cup across the table towards him.
‘Talk,’ she said.
8. Undercover work
‘THAT’S QUITE A DUNGHEAP,’ SAID MRS BEAUMONT QUIETLY.
Henry nodded miserably. ‘You won’t find a diamond in there,’ he muttered.
‘On the contrary. There’s one staring you in the face.’
‘I can’t see it.’
‘The diamond is that you know, and no one else knows that you know except me. That puts you in a very strong position as long as you keep quiet about it and play innocent.’
‘Like him,’ he muttered.
‘He’s obviously a good actor. Perhaps he’s had a lot of practice at deceiving people.’
‘Grace told me he was a liar.’
‘Grace has met him?’
Henry nodded.
‘Oh.’
‘She won’t say anything.’
‘I know that and you know that but will your father? I’d keep her well and truly out of the picture if I were you. For her sake.’
‘Do you think he might hurt her?’ Henry asked, alarmed.
‘I don’t know. He sounds a nasty piece of work to me. And your stepfather obviously suspects he’s up to something criminal. You’re needed urgently for some kind of job and it’s not in a film unit. If it’s because the police don’t know your face, it implies that the police in London know your father’s face. Unfortunately Grace knows his face too.’
‘So do you,’ said Henry, remembering the photographs, ‘and Jeffries. And Pip.’
‘But your father doesn’t know that, does he? He might think she’ll tell someone about him and try to stop her.’
‘What can I do?’
‘Find out the truth. The more information we can find out the better. Your mother and Uncle Bill have been deceiving you too, probably to protect you. We now know that she hates seeing your father’s photographs. But we don’t know why. What else has she and your stepfather been keeping from you? Meanwhile, I need to find an excuse to visit my solicitor again because you’ve solved another mystery for me.’
‘Have I?’
‘Yes. Your mother told me about a neighbour who’s just discovered she’s committed bigamy and who’s too nervous to go to a solicitor, and she asked me if I could ask my solicitor various questions. Thanks to you, I now know that no such neighbour exists. She’s the one who needs help.’ Mrs Beaumont frowned for a moment and then gave an enormous smile. ‘Got it! Oh, I do love killing two birds with one stone. The furniture!’
‘The furniture?’
‘The wretched furniture you and Jeffries have been carrying out of the building at the back. I’ll suggest to the solicitors that while they continue to look for the deeds they’ve lost,’ and she winked, ‘that’ll make them feel nice and guilty, could they also give me permission to dispose of that furniture? Then I’ll casually ask them questions about bigamy and divorce over the tea and biscuits.’
‘Do you think it’ll work?’
‘It’s worth trying. Your mother should really go to the police, but since I’m not supposed to know anything, I’m not the one to persuade her.’
‘Me?’
‘You.’
‘How?’
‘You’ll find a way.’
‘I hate my father. I’d like to tell him what I think of him.’
‘Don’t. That’s your diamond. Spin him a yarn. If he knows you know, he could turn nasty. When are you next meeting him?’
‘Tomorrow night.’
‘That doesn’t leave us much time. What we need is someone he doesn’t know to follow him. Someone who travels on a Sunday night and wouldn’t look out of place, Like your friend Charlie returning to his unit after a weekend pass.’
‘He’s here. I saw him this afternoon.’
‘Splendid! Do you have any film left in the camera?’
‘Yeah. Why?’
‘He could follow him and take photographs of who he’s mixing with, that sort of thing.’
‘But it’s a posh camera and my dad’s seen me with it. Most people have got box cameras round here. He might recognise it and get suspicious.’
‘Not if he’s carrying it in an Army rucksack. I’ve got one here you can borrow.’
‘But he won’t have time.’
‘You’re right. How about if I arrange for one of Max’s photographer friends to be waiting for him by the platform exit at Waterloo. Charlie could walk behind your father and give Max’s friend the nod so he knows who to follow.’
‘But there’ll be loads of servicemen all arriving at the same time. How will he know which one is him?’
She looked thoug
htful for a moment and then smiled. ‘He could carry a parcel! If Max’s friend manages to follow your father and take any snaps, he can then catch the next train down here. After that it’s down to you.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Think you can develop them in your school darkroom?’
‘Yeah!’
‘Of course we might get nothing at all. But it’s worth trying.’
‘Wait a minute,’ said Henry, suddenly remembering a conversation he had had with Charlie, ‘Charlie thinks my dad’s a hero.’
‘You don’t have to tell him who the man is.’
‘What do I say, then?’
‘I always think it’s best to steer near the truth. Tell him this man has offered you a job in London but your mum and stepfather think there’s something fishy about him. Explain that you need some photographs of him working to put their minds at rest or to find out if he’s up to no good.’ She looked intently at him. ‘We’ve very little time. You need to find Charlie and I need to get hold of Max, and for all I know he could be filming in the middle of nowhere. This is one of those rare occasions when I hope he’s out of work.’
Henry knocked at Number 18. A large cheery woman answered the door, her hair hidden under a red and white spotty turban.
‘Hello, Henry!’ she exclaimed, beaming.
‘Is Charlie in?’
‘Is he ever? He’ll be at the Plaza. He’s soft on that usherette, ain’t he? If you wait outside, you might catch him. That’s if he don’t stay and watch everything all over again.’
Luckily, Charlie didn’t stay. Henry spotted him in the crowd coming down the steps and hurried towards him. They strolled over to the bombsite away from listening ears. As soon as they were alone he took a deep breath.
‘Charlie,’ he began, ‘I need you to do me a favour. But you have to keep it a secret.’
‘So you want me to help you find out if this bloke is for real?’ said Charlie.
‘Yes,’ said Henry.
‘Okeydoke. Anything for a bit of excitement. But you’ll have to do me a favour in return. Can you take a photograph of me and Lily?’
Henry felt embarrassed. How on earth was he going to do that? Lily Bridges was so ashamed of being divorced she couldn’t look anyone in the eye. She’d never let anyone with a camera near her.
‘She’s a bit shy,’ he said hesitantly.
Charlie grinned.
‘You don’t half go around with your eyes shut. She’s wearing an engagement ring now.’
‘You’re going to marry her!’ Henry said, shocked.
‘Yeah, yeah, yeah, so she’s a divorcee. So what? We make each other happy.’
‘Good,’ said Henry, awkwardly, not knowing what else to say.
‘Fire away, then, what do I have to do?’
‘I meet this man after the Sunday matinee at the Troxy or the Plaza. After the film I need you to wait at the foot of Hatton railway bridge so you know what he looks like. When he leaves the bridge, follow him on to the platform.’
‘Okeydoke. Me and Lily can say our goodbyes there. So it looks normal.’
‘Could she give you a present wrapped up in coloured paper?’
‘I s’pose so. Why?’
‘A photographer is going to be looking out for you at Waterloo Station. You need to be walking behind the man who’s offered me this job so that the photographer knows he’s the one to follow. The only way he’ll be able to spot you in the crowd of uniforms is from the parcel you’re carrying. Then you hand the rucksack with the camera in it over to him.’
When Henry arrived at Mrs Beaumont’s house, Grace answered the door. She took one look at him and turned away. Henry grabbed her arm. She swung round crossly but he could see that he had hurt her.
‘Sorry,’ he blurted out.
She gave a nonchalant shrug and stared at the floor.
‘Grace,’ he said miserably. ‘He is a liar.’
She looked up. For a moment neither of them spoke.
‘I’m sorry too,’ she said.
‘For what?’
‘For being right.’
They walked silently down the steps to the kitchen. When he opened the door he spotted his mother sitting next to Molly with paper and crayons. Jeffries was waving a newspaper frantically at him from the table.
‘The Rex is going to be showing foreign films. Listen! First Sternsea Screening,’ he read, ‘London Film Productions present the international prize-winning drama Open City. Directed by Roberto Rossellini with English subtitles. Here! Right on our own doorstep.’ He lowered the paper. ‘There’s only one snag. It’s an A.’
‘There’s no problem there,’ said Mrs Beaumont. ‘I’d love to see it.’
‘I know someone else who’d like to go,’ said Henry’s mother, ‘but you wouldn’t want to be seen with him.’
Henry was embarrassed that his mother had revealed his hatred for Uncle Bill in front of the others. And then he suddenly realised that he didn’t hate him any more.
He gave a shrug.
‘I don’t mind,’ he said slowly.
Uncle Bill’s shift finished at ten o’clock that week. Henry heard him let himself into the house and sat up and listened to the kitchen door open. After a while there was the slow familiar creak on the stairs, footsteps crossing the landing and his mother murmuring, ‘Goodnight, love.’ Quickly, he lay down as his stepfather padded about in the dark. He waited till he had climbed into the camp bed.
‘Uncle Bill?’
‘Did I wake you?’ he whispered.
‘No, I couldn’t sleep.’
‘Yes, there’s a lot to think about, isn’t there?’ he said after a brief silence.
Henry had rehearsed what he was going to say but it all felt so stilted now. He knew he had to be careful not to let him know he had overheard the quarrel between him and his father.
‘Anything you want to get off your chest?’
‘Yeah,’ Henry said eventually.
‘You’d best tell me, then.’
He tried to speak but the words wouldn’t come out.
‘Is it about your mum?’
‘No.’
‘School?’
‘No.’
‘Leaving school?’
Henry couldn’t answer.
‘The railway job?’ Uncle Bill added.
There was a long silence.
‘You don’t want it, do you?’ he said at last. Henry remained silent. ‘You’ve avoided talking about it, so I put two and two together. I didn’t say anything because you didn’t seem to know what else you wanted to do.’
‘I do now,’ Henry said slowly.
‘Are you going to tell me what it is?’
‘Yes.’
And still Henry didn’t speak.
‘Try me.’
‘I want to be a camera operator,’ Henry said, aware of a catch in his throat.
‘Then that’s what you must be.’
‘You mean it?’ he whispered.
‘Course I do.’
‘But the ones I’ve met all speak posh, like they do on the wireless.’
‘Things are changing, Henry. Look at me. Five years ago I’d never have dreamt that someone with my back-ground would get a Higher School Certificate, let alone be offered teacher training, so there’s no reason why you can’t be a camera operator. But you’ll have to take it a step at a time.’
‘I know,’ said Henry. ‘I’d have to start as a clapper boy. That job in London, the one I wouldn’t tell you about, it’s for a clapper boy in a film unit.’
Henry waited to see if Uncle Bill would let on that he knew his father had lied.
‘Do you know the name of this unit?’
‘No.’
‘Why don’t you ask your father?’
‘I’ve already asked and he said he didn’t know.’
‘Perhaps you could explain that your mother might be happy for you to take up that job when you find out more about it. The name of the person who�
��s employing you, for a start.’
He wants me to find out my father’s a liar for myself, Henry thought.
‘There’s something else,’ said Henry. ‘There’s this boy in my class, Jack Riddell, he wants to be a train driver but no one in his family has ever worked for the railways.’
‘And you’d like me to put in a good word for him? See if he can have your job?’
‘Yes.’
‘He’ll have to have a medical.’
‘He’s very fit. He’s in the school’s gymnastic team.’
‘I’ll talk to someone about it on Monday.’
‘Thanks, Uncle Bill.’
‘Now tell me, what happens after you’ve been a clapper boy?’
‘You get to be a focus puller . . . ’
His dad was waiting for him in the usual spot. Henry was relieved they weren’t supposed to look at one another. If they had have done, he was convinced he would have given everything away. Charlie and Lily had already followed him as far as the bridge. They were waiting by the foot of the steps near the street light. Once his father left for the station, Henry had arranged that he would stand behind him at the top of the steps so that Charlie would know which man to follow.
He stared down at the railway line.
‘I told Gran,’ he said.
‘Oh, yeah? How did she take it?’ he asked.
‘She was very shocked,’ Henry said slowly.
‘Yeah, I thought she might be. But has she got used to the idea now?’
As if you didn’t know, thought Henry.
‘Yes.’
‘Does she want to see me?’
Henry glanced quickly at his face. There was nothing to show from his father’s expression that he and Gran had already met. He had even more proof now that however friendly his father appeared and acted, it was all show, and it pleased him to know that his father had no idea he had given himself away.
Henry nodded.
‘That’s good. I’m looking forward to seeing her. It’s been a long time.’
Yeah, all of thirty hours, thought Henry.
Just Henry Page 30
