Just Henry

by Michelle Magorian

  ‘Even the romantic bits were funny,’ said Henry when they walked out through the foyer.

  ‘I liked it when they sang and danced in the museum by the skeleton of the dinosaur!’ said Pip.

  ‘And when they were dancing in the streets,’ added Grace.

  ‘The story went at such a lick,’ Jeffries exclaimed. ‘It was so exhilarating. So powerful!’

  Henry couldn’t have put it like Jeffries. But he was right. The whole film took your breath away. And he knew he would have to see it again.

  The audience came flooding out of the cinema into the summer night, bubbling. Henry felt so excited he wanted to leap around. As soon as they had broken away from the crowd, Grace and Pip flung their arms across each other’s shoulders and sang, ‘New York! New York!’ Jeffries and Margaret did the same and as Henry put his arm round Jane’s shoulders, she was putting her arm around his and they added the third ‘New York! New York!’ The six of them strode down the street together towards a flattened bombsite singing, ‘It’s a Wonderful Town!’ just as the three sailors and their girlfriends in the film had done.

  That night Henry couldn’t sleep. He kept going over and over the memory of the six of them singing, their arms across each other’s shoulders, his arm around Jane. She felt so soft and warm he wanted to bury himself in her. He would have to wait until Monday morning till he saw her again and it seemed a long time away.

  ‘Henry,’ he heard Jeffries say from his bed, ‘I can’t sleep. I keep thinking about tonight.’

  ‘Me too,’ Henry whispered back.

  ‘You’ll have to wait until open day on Monday before you see the present I’ve made for you,’ said Henry, handing his mother a birthday card the next morning. ‘It’s in the woodwork display.’

  Although it was Saturday, he had agreed to go into school to help Mr Finch put the finishing touches to the photographic display. He planned to drop in at the railway station on the way to take the last two photographs on his film. He was looking forward to being back in the darkroom, developing the used film and putting in a new roll.

  ‘Would you drop Molly off at Mrs Henson’s?’ asked Mrs Beaumont. ‘Your mother’s packed everything she needs for the afternoon in your rucksack. It means she won’t be under our feet when Mrs Jeffries and I prepare the birthday tea.’

  Before leaving, Henry took a quick glimpse at the Sternsea Evening News to see what was on. The new film of Treasure Island was opening at the Odeon. There had been mixed publicity about it and, having just read the book, Henry was keen to see the film and make up his own mind.

  Molly was standing impatiently in the hall, hugging her floppy dog, with his mother and baby Larry. Henry slung his rucksack with her potty and a change of clothes over his shoulder and took her hand. His mother kissed her and gave him a clumsy hug while hanging on to his half-brother.

  He checked that the new roll of film was in his trouser pocket and started walking down the path. Mrs Beaumont came running after him with a man’s jacket and the Peter Rabbit book. She slipped the book into one of the pockets.

  ‘It’s July,’ he protested.

  ‘Tell that to the sky.’

  He groaned, took off his rucksack and slipped the jacket on while Mrs Beaumont held Molly’s hand. A gust of wind blew across the path. ‘Told you so,’ she said. ‘Now, don’t be late. Tea Party is at five o’clock.’

  ‘I won’t be,’ he said. ‘Wave to Mrs Beaumont,’ he told Molly.

  ‘Bye bye, Auntie Henni,’ she said.

  ‘Hettie!’ he exclaimed as they walked towards the wooden gate.

  ‘Tetti,’ she said.

  They had only walked a couple of yards when a car drew up alongside them. A tubby man with greased-back hair and a thin moustache leaned out of the window. He was holding a map.

  ‘We’re lost,’ he said, indicating the man in the driver’s seat, a burly bald-headed man. ‘We don’t know this town too well. Can you help us?’

  The man opened the door and held out the map for Henry to see. Henry was puzzled.

  ‘You need a street map,’ he said. ‘This is a map of southern England.’

  The driver climbed out. The next thing Henry knew, Molly was pulled from his hand and thrown into the back seat. She gave a frightened scream.

  ‘Molly!’ he yelled.

  As Henry leaned in to grab her, a pair of strong arms shoved him violently into the car and the door was slammed behind him. By the time he had sat up, the car was speeding down the road.

  5. Ted and Percy

  MOLLY WAS SOBBING UNCONTROLLABLY. THE MAN WHO HAD showed Henry the map turned round and glared at him.

  ‘If you don’t shut her up, I will,’ he said. He swung round to the driver. ‘You should have left her on the pavement.’

  ‘No time. He would have been out like a shot. And someone might have noticed. Anyways, it did the trick, didn’t it?’

  ‘You’ve got the wrong person,’ Henry began. ‘I don’t know you.’

  ‘What’s yer name?’ asked the passenger-seat man.

  ‘Use yer loaf,’ said the driver. ‘We know who he is.’

  ‘What if we’ve been following the wrong boy?’

  The driver gave a sigh.

  ‘Tell him your name, sonny.’

  ‘Henry Dodge.’

  ‘There you are, then,’ he said, slamming the palms of his hands forcefully on to the wheel.

  Henry was stunned.

  ‘But why?’ he began.

  ‘Stop askin’ questions. You’ll find out tomorrow morning.’

  He wrapped his arms tightly round Molly. He remembered Mrs Henson. Would she pop round to Mrs Beaumont’s house when they hadn’t turned up, or would she think they had changed their minds? And what about Mr Finch? He might think Henry had let him down. And his mother wouldn’t miss him for hours. They could be miles away by then.

  ‘Where are you taking us?’ he asked.

  ‘What have I said about asking questions?’ the driver roared.

  Henry felt Molly jump and clutch at his arms. Once they left Sternsea, they slowed down. Henry stared out the window, keeping his eye out for signposts.

  They must have been in the car for well over an hour when he realised they were heading for London.

  ‘Wanta wee-wee,’ whispered Molly.

  The man in the passenger seat whirled round, alarmed.

  ‘Don’t you wet that car seat or I’ll be in trouble.’

  ‘We need to stop,’ said Henry.

  ‘There ain’t no little boy’s rooms round ’ere, sonny,’ said the driver, glancing out at streets and houses.

  ‘I’ve got her pot in my rucksack. If you stop by some trees, I could take her with me.’

  ‘And make a run for it,’ added the driver over his shoulder.

  ‘How can I? I’ve got her with me.’

  ‘You could carry her,’ said the man in the passenger seat.

  ‘Don’t give him ideas,’ said the driver.

  ‘Wanta wee-wee!’ cried Molly piteously.

  ‘We got to stop!’ urged the man in the passenger seat.

  They pulled up by a field. Henry looked swiftly round for someone he could call out to but there wasn’t a house in sight. As Henry climbed out of the back with Molly he heard the driver mutter something about ditching her. The thought of her being abandoned in the middle of nowhere horrified Henry.

  As soon as she had finished, he pushed the emptied pot quickly into the paper bag his mother had packed it in, his eyes fixed on her. He was acutely aware of the driver standing near them as he wedged it back in the top of the rucksack. ‘Hang on to me very tight,’ he whispered, lifting her. ‘I’ll hold doggie. You hold me.’

  The driver stared at them. Henry slid on to the seat, slammed the door shut, and gripped her firmly with his legs.

  As soon as they hit London, Henry peered out of the window searching for a policeman, ready to signal to him, but the only one he spotted was a traffic policeman. He waved to him as the
y passed but he didn’t even glance in their direction. He looked out for a clock to see if it was five o’clock yet.

  The car drew further into London but it was not the London Mrs Beaumont had shown him. Her London was a world of bookshops and cinemas, theatres and jazz clubs. This part of London was run down and obliterated. He was familiar with heavily bombed streets, having grown up among rubble. But the streets he now looked out on were even more decimated. He suddenly became aware of missing things he had taken for granted in Sternsea – the lighter colour of the sky because it was near the sea and the sound of seagulls, although the streets still had the odd cinema standing, he noted. He peered out of the window at the roads, teeming with people, buses, bicycles and cars. No one will find us here, he thought. It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack.

  Molly had fallen asleep, her face grubby from crying and rubbing her eyes. The heat was oppressive. Outside, the sky was grey, like a dark umbrella that kept stale air from escaping and stopped fresh air from blowing in. He tried to remember everything in case it might come in useful later but all he could see among the crowds were the familiar queues of women waiting outside shops. There was a rumble of thunder in the sky. Henry was sweating in the jacket Mrs Beaumont had insisted on making him wear. And then he remembered the roll of film. He moved his hand slowly to check that it hadn’t fallen out of his pocket. It was still there. He was sure his pockets would be searched for money when he reached their destination and if they found the film, they’d know he had a camera, start poking around in the rucksack and nick it. And then he had an idea. Very slowly he moved the dog Molly was clutching and painstakingly unbuttoned the back flap of fur. He tucked the small box of film behind her nightdress and did up the buttons.

  By now the car was beginning to slow down. They turned into a street of small houses and then slipped into a back street, which had only five houses left standing on it. The car stopped outside one, the top half of which had been blown away.

  ‘You get them out ’ere, Percy,’ said the driver. ‘I’ll take the car back to his highness and come back later. Too tricky parking it round ’ere. Some nosy parker will only spot it and nick the tyres.’ He turned to face Henry. ‘You wait there till he unlocks the front door. Got that?’

  Henry nodded.

  He watched the one called Percy ease his roly-poly frame out of the car. He could easily have made a dash for it if he had been on his own. With Molly it would be too risky.

  ‘Unlocked and all clear, Ted,’ said Percy with a slight swagger. ‘Out you get,’ he ordered, glaring at Henry.

  Molly was rubbing her eyes.

  ‘Molly want Mummy,’ she said crossly.

  ‘You want a good slap around the chops, that’s what you want,’ said Percy.

  ‘Wanta wee-wee.’

  Henry saw a trickle flowing down the inside of one of her legs.

  ‘Oh no!’ bellowed Percy. ‘Get her inside. Now!’

  Henry looked quickly down the street but before he could make a move Percy moved towards them.

  What remained of the house they entered was a hall, a flight of stairs that disappeared on to a jagged floor, a broken wall and the sky, a cupboard door under the stairs and two other doors leading off. Percy opened the back door which led into a small kitchen where there was a table, a collection of assorted chairs, a large black kettle, teapot, frying pan and saucepan, which Henry recognised as belonging to Uncle Bill and his mother. Two of her tea towels hung from a piece of string above the range.

  And it all became clear. This was all his father’s doing. He suddenly remembered how he had held him in a vicelike grip the night he had tried to force Henry to go to London with him, and he shuddered.

  He squeezed Molly’s hand and headed for the door by a filthy window.

  ‘Where do you think you’re going?

  ‘To the scullery.’

  ‘There ain’t one.’

  ‘I’ve got clean knickers for her,’ he said, unpacking his rucksack. He took out the bag with the tin chamber pot in it.

  ‘Sort her out,’ Percy said roughly. ‘I’ll wait outside but don’t try no funny business cos you won’t get far.’

  ‘Where’s the nearest tap? I need to wash these,’ said Henry, holding up the wet knickers.

  Percy stepped back sharply.

  ‘There’s a tap in the alley across the yard but you ain’t going anywhere near it, sonny.’

  ‘Can you get some water, then?’ he asked, sitting Molly on the pot.

  Percy picked up a tin bucket by the door and waved a key at him.

  ‘Just in case you’ve got any plans to run away.’

  Henry heard him lock the back door. He rubbed some of the grime from the window to let some light in. Outside was a scrubby little yard with a broken wall. He could see Percy in the alley, filling the bucket from a standpipe tap and panting with the weight of it as he returned. Henry withdrew quickly.

  As soon as Percy had dumped the bucket down on the floor, Henry carried the kettle and a saucepan towards it and filled them.

  ‘Now what are you doing?’ Percy snapped.

  ‘For drinking water,’ Henry explained.

  ‘Oh,’ he said, ‘that’s all right, then.’

  ‘Can you empty this?’ Henry asked, presenting the filled chamber pot.

  ‘Oh, no,’ he said, waving his arms. ‘I’m not going anywhere near that. You can empty that in the privy outside.’

  Henry made for the door.

  ‘Oh, no you don’t. Give it ’ere!’

  Henry watched him as he held the pot at arm’s length and walked gingerly towards the back door. Grabbing the tea towels, Henry dipped one in the bucket of water, wrung it out, wiped Molly down, dried her with the other tea towel and put her dry knickers on.

  ‘That’ll need rinsing,’ said Henry when Percy brought back the empty chamber pot. ‘It’ll smell otherwise.’

  ‘Let it smell then,’ he said, thrusting it into Henry’s hands.

  Henry slipped it back in the paper bag and into his rucksack.

  ‘Firsty,’ announced Molly.

  He picked up a cup from the shelf and poured some water from the kettle into it. Molly gulped it down.

  ‘Got any soap?’ Henry asked.

  ‘What do you think this is? A ruddy hotel?’

  ‘I need to wash her knickers.’

  Percy stared angrily down at her and Henry realised he would have to get on with it, otherwise Molly would be seen as a nuisance and they’d dump her.

  ‘I’ll wash them in the bucket,’ he said hastily.

  He rinsed and wrung them out with the wet tea towel, and hung them dripping over the string.

  ‘Are we staying here?’ he asked.

  ‘You’re full of questions, ain’t you?’

  ‘I was taking Molly round to a friend of my mum’s this afternoon. She’ll be wondering where she is.’

  ‘Well, she can keep wondering, can’t she? You’re stayin’ the night. After that, I don’t know.’

  ‘Do you want me to light the range?’

  The man stared at him as if he had gone to the moon.

  ‘You know how to light a range?’

  ‘Yeah. So if you got any old newspapers, bits of wood, coal, matches, I can get started, if you want. You’re in charge.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s right,’ said Percy, looking pleased. ‘And don’t you forget it.’

  By the time Ted arrived, the range was lit and Molly was sitting at the table with the crayons and pieces of paper his mother had also packed in the rucksack. He stood in the doorway, staring at the range.

  ‘I told him to do it,’ said Percy, boasting.

  ‘We can have a cuppa then,’ he said, slamming down a pile of chips wrapped in newspaper on the table. Henry noticed him glance at his rucksack.

  ‘Had a look in his bag?’ he grunted.

  ‘Nah.’

  ‘Why not?’ and he shook his head with impatience, picked it up and undid the straps. Henr
y’s heart sank. He’d find the camera now. He flung it open and came face to face with the bag containing the pot.

  ‘Ugh!’ he said, chucking it to one side.

  ‘That’s why not,’ stated Percy.

  After chips and a cup of tea, Henry noticed it was growing dark outside. He wondered when his father would be turning up, but from the behaviour of his captors, it didn’t look as if they were expecting him that night. Ted produced some bottles of beer. Henry sat Molly on his lap, took a deep breath and opened The Adventures of Peter Rabbit. It seemed a bit strange reading about the goings-on of a rabbit in front of two beer-swilling kidnappers, especially as they appeared to be listening to the story as well.

  ‘We’re sleeping in the front room,’ Ted announced, when Henry had finished, ‘so we can keep an eye on you. And I have the key.’

  The front room was small with an old settee in it which faced the window. It was covered in cushions and an old blanket. A pair of grubby curtains hid the view. It looked as if they would all be sleeping side by side.

  ‘Dirty room,’ Molly said. ‘Want to go home.’

  Percy took the end by the fireplace, Ted sat in the middle and Henry sat at the other end with Molly on his lap. Henry’s brain was whirling too much to drop off, but he closed his eyes because Percy and Ted were taking it in turns to watch him while the other slept. Eventually Molly cried herself to sleep. Sitting there, with her slumped on his lap, Henry watched the first hint of dawn lighten the curtains. It was then that he noticed that both Ted and Percy were asleep. A little chink of light hit the wall behind them through a tiny gap. He knew immediately what he had to do. The first hurdle was how to get out from under Molly without waking her and the two men.

  He held her firmly and leaned forward. Using all his strength, he slowly pulled himself to his feet. Hardly daring to breathe and sweating with adrenalin, he stood still for a moment. The men did not stir. He lowered Molly back on to the settee beside Ted, crept towards his rucksack and undid the straps. As he pulled out the bag containing the pot, the paper rustled. Ted moved and gave a grunt. Henry froze. He stared at Ted for a moment, put the bag on the floor and reached for the camera case underneath Molly’s cardigan at the bottom of the rucksack. Once he had the camera out of its case, he held it inside the rucksack to muffle the click of the bellows releasing. Neither of the men stirred. With painstaking slowness he moved towards the window and pulled the curtains a little to the side. A shaft of light hit Molly and her guards.