The Secret

by Ruth Thomas

‘When what?’

  ‘When are we going?’

  ‘Tomorrow morning. And you can take that miserable look off your face, Roy, because it is not a miserable thing, it is a happy thing. We are going to find Mum, so it is a very happy thing indeed. I think so, anyway.’

  The police were talking on the phone to the Sister at the hospital.

  ‘Has she remembered her name yet?’

  ‘Not so far. Her memory’s coming back in bits, though. Today she said she thinks she lives in London.’

  ‘Give it another few days,’ said the policeman. ‘And if she still doesn’t remember, we might put out a television appeal. Somebody must know who she is.’

  8

  Looking for Mum

  NICKY WAS IN great spirits. She sat with Roy, on the front seat of the bus upstairs, and sang ‘Jesus wants me for a sunbeam’, loud and raucously. An irritated passenger poked her from behind. ‘Do us a favour, love!’

  ‘What’s the matter with you?’ said Nicky. ‘I’m only singing.’

  ‘Is that what you call it? Sounds more like a cat with the stomach ache.’

  ‘Wrong!’ said Nicky. ‘It sounds like six cats with the stomach ache.’

  She shrieked with laughter; peal after weird peal bounced around the bus. ‘She’s a nutter, ain’t she?’ someone said.

  ‘You all right?’ said the passenger behind.

  ‘No, I’m half left,’ said Nicky, shrieking some more. The laugh stopped as abruptly as it had begun, and Nicky turned her attention to the splendid view of London unfolding slowly and jerkily, because there was quite a lot of traffic, before them. She was intensely interested in everything she saw. ‘Look, Roy! Look at those posh houses. Fancy living in a house like that! Look at the beautiful old things in that shop! Look at the grass, with all the different trees! Look, Roy, like in a picture! Do you think we come to the country?’ They were passing Kensington Gardens, where Nicky had never been, although she lived only a few miles away. ‘Look, Roy!’

  Roy did not answer her. He sat hunched and stiff in his seat, the china-blue eyes blank, staring at nothing. Home for the last week had been a crumbling fortress; now he was being torn away from the ruins, even. He was leaving the known for the unknown, and he was too lost inside himself, almost, to be frightened.

  Everyone was getting off the bus. ‘I think this is it,’ said Nicky. ‘Wasn’t it lucky the money was just enough for the tickets!’

  They were in a big bus terminal. ‘I never see so many buses, did you, Roy?’ Nicky marvelled. ‘I wonder where it is for the trains.’ A taxi hooted them angrily, as they stepped into its path. ‘And the same to you!’ Nicky called after it. ‘Some people got no manners, have they, Roy! Come on, I see where we have to go.’

  Victoria Station was intimidating in its hugeness. Nicky had been on a big station once before, but it was a long time ago, and she couldn’t remember which one, or where she was travelling that time. Nevertheless it was that memory she relied on, to work out her plan. Reality was disconcertingly different from memory, though; bigger, and harsher, and noisier. Bewildered, Nicky felt a little bit of her confidence ebb away. ‘Let’s sit down for a bit,’ she said to Roy, ‘and have a little think.’

  There didn’t seem to be any seats, so they tucked themselves into a corner and sat on the hard ground, against a wall. Down here they felt even smaller, towered over by trolleys, and moving legs. ‘When are we going on the train?’ said Roy, speaking at last.

  ‘Don’t you listen to what I say?’ said Nicky. ‘I said we got to think. You can’t expect me to know everything all at once. You got to give me a chance to work it out. Where the right train is, and everything.’

  ‘I want to go home,’ said Roy.

  ‘Shut up,’ said Nicky, losing patience. ‘Shut up or I’ll belt you one! You’re nothing but a drag; you don’t help a bit!’

  Roy withdrew into stony silence again. For comfort, Nicky fussed through the bags she carried – one of Safeway’s plastic carriers, and her own schoolbag stuffed with a woolly each for her and Roy for if it got cold. The Safeway’s carrier contained one slice of birthday cake, some very stale biscuits from a tin Nicky had overlooked before, the bread with most of the mould cut off, the packet of cornflakes half empty now, two cold potatoes left over from yesterday’s dinner, the remains of the chicken, cut into pieces so they could eat it with their fingers, and a pint of milk left over from breakfast.

  There was also the letter from school, duly arrived that morning, now getting greasier and greasier from rubbing against the food. Nicky had not opened the letter, of course, because it was addressed to Mum, and it would not be right to read it, but she had a fair idea what was inside, because Mr Nelson said. When Mum saw the letter, she would realize how important it was to come back quickly.

  Nicky scrambled to her feet. ‘You stay here with the bags,’ she told Roy. ‘Stay right here, I’m going to explore a bit. Find out where we have to go for the train. . . . Roy, I’m speaking to you!’

  His gaze was fixed still, and he didn’t move. Nicky prodded him with her foot. ‘Snap out of it, Roy, you’re getting to be like a robot or something. . . . Oh all right, be like that! Make a misery out of it, see if I care! I’m having a great time anyway. A great time. You’re missing all the fun, being like a robot!’

  She walked away from him, deliberately not looking back. Crowds of travellers closed in around her, and when she turned her head at last, she couldn’t see Roy anyway, because he was round the corner. She stood near the entrance to Platform eight, but she had no idea where the train waiting there might be going. How were you supposed to find it out? Nicky looked up and down, and she could see now that the station was much bigger than she had thought at first, even. She felt tiny, swallowed up in the vastness of it.

  The thing was, she must ask someone. Who? Well not one of the station people, not somebody in uniform. Somebody like that might ask her why she was travelling so far all by herself, which might get complicated. He might even want to see her ticket. So who? An ordinary person, probably . . . a kind person. . . . How about an old person? Someone who couldn’t see very well. Who wouldn’t notice too much about the one that was asking.

  Nicky looked around for such a person, and there was a nice old lady sitting on one of the very few seats, surrounded by baggage. ‘Excuse me,’ said Nicky. The old lady had silver hair, and a sweet, crumpled face. ‘Excuse me, but can you tell me which is the train for Southbourne?’

  ‘I’m afraid I don’t know, dear, it’s all a great mystery to me,’ the old lady confessed. ‘I just do what my son tells me – here’s my son coming now, we’ll ask him.’

  The old lady’s son was big, and red-faced, and short-tempered looking. ‘Look on the Departures Board,’ he said, pointing. ‘Doesn’t your mother know how to do it?’

  ‘She’s busy,’ said Nicky. ‘Looking after my baby brother.’

  ‘Very likely, but doesn’t she know how to do it?’ His voice sounded really fierce.

  ‘Of course she does,’ said Nicky.

  ‘Why does she send you to ask strangers then?’ said the old lady’s fierce son. ‘Where is your mother?’ he added, in a suspicious tone.

  Nicky ran.

  The old lady’s fierce son lost interest in Nicky almost immediately. He had a train to catch, and a mother of his own to look after, and other people’s children were not his responsibility anyway. But Nicky imagined a great burly form, topped by an angry red face, bearing down on her out of the crowd. She dodged, and doubled back, and dived into the ladies’ toilet, where she loitered a long time outside the barrier, until a sympathetic customer for the toilet asked her was she short of a ten pence to get in? Nicky said, ‘No, it’s all right,’ and then she said, ‘Yes, I am rather short as it happens.’ The sympathetic lady gave her ten pence saying she knew from experience how awful it was to want to go when you couldn’t. As soon as the nice lady had gone through the barrier, Nicky put the money in the pocket of her jeans
, and emerged into the station again. She looked cautiously up and down, but there was no sign of the old lady’s son. Trying to look unconcerned, she sauntered back to where she could see the seat on which the old lady had been sitting, but the seat was empty. Cases and all had disappeared. Nicky went back to Roy.

  ‘I’m back,’ she announced.

  He didn’t seem to care much whether she was back or not.

  ‘Didn’t you miss me?’

  Roy shrugged.

  ‘Anyway, you will be pleased to know that I saw how to go on the train, like I thought, and it’s easy. The only thing I don’t know yet is, which train we have to go on. So you still stay here.’

  Roy shrugged again, as if to imply he wasn’t going anywhere anyway.

  Nicky stood in front of the Departures Board, and read all the place names very carefully, but she couldn’t see Southbourne at all. Every now and again, the whole board rattled and flickered, and the names got changed, and every time that happened Nicky watched anxiously to see if the word Southbourne was going to come, but it never did. A great doubt began to trouble her. Was this the right station after all? Did Sonia make a mistake?

  Nicky looked around for someone else to ask. There was a smartly dressed lady sitting over the way, eating an apple and sheafing through some papers she kept taking out of a briefcase. She looked too busy to be nosy about where people’s mothers were, and too young to have a big red-faced son. She might have a boyfriend like that, of course, but she seemed to be alone. Nicky approached her. ‘Excuse me, is this the right station for Southbourne?’

  ‘Yes,’ said the young woman, without looking up.

  ‘Will the name come on the board in a minute?’

  ‘I expect so.’

  ‘When it does, how shall I know which platform to go on?’

  The young woman looked at the board. ‘It’s just come up now. Platform six. Leaving at eleven-fifteen.’

  ‘Do you know what time it is now?’ said Nicky.

  ‘For heaven’s sake, can’t you read a clock? Look! Five minutes to eleven. Anything else you want to know?’

  ‘No, thank you,’ said Nicky, quite sweetly.

  Twenty minutes to get herself and Roy on to the train. Nicky went back to where she had left him. ‘I’m hungry,’ he said peevishly.

  ‘You can’t be,’ said Nicky. ‘You only had breakfast a little while ago.’

  ‘I am though,’ said Roy. ‘And thirsty.’

  ‘You can have a little bit of cornflakes,’ said Nicky. ‘And some milk. We have to keep the rest for our packed lunch. And for our tea, perhaps, if we don’t find Mum before that.’

  ‘I’ don’t think we’re going to find her at all,’ said Roy.

  ‘That’s because you think sad things all the time, not happy ones,’ said Nicky.

  They sat together in their corner, eating dry cornflakes and swigging milk by turns out of the bottle. ‘Come on now,’ said Nicky. ‘It’s time for the train. Come on, Roy, and pick your feet up. You’ll wear out your shoes scuffling like that!’

  ‘I’m tired.’

  ‘You only just now got out of bed, nearly.’

  ‘I had all bad dreams, in the night.’

  ‘Forget the bad dreams! You’re a bad dream! You’re like a alien from outer space. It’s like you’re looking at something else all the time. You’re making me feel all funny, Roy, so snap out of it before I give you a kick or something, to help you!’

  ‘I hate you,’ said Roy.

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I said I hate you, and I do!’

  ‘Take that back!’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Take it back, you little creep!’

  ‘I won’t. I won’t. I hate you!’

  In the middle of Victoria Station they faced one another, sparking with animosity. Nicky took a step towards Roy and he backed, nervously. ‘If you don’t take it back what you just said, I’m going to hit you!’ She put the bags on the ground, and took another step towards him. She was angry, and hurt, and she meant what she was saying. Roy backed again, and Nicky lunged at him. She caught him briefly by the shirt, but he twisted out of her grasp and ran. ‘I’ll get you, you wait!’ She pelted after him, then stopped dead, remembering the precious bags. Muttering furiously, she went back to retrieve them. By the time she had them safely in her grasp again, Roy had disappeared from sight.

  Uncertain about what to do now, Nicky sat on one of the red bucket seats, nursing her bags and her fury. Serve Roy right if he got lost! Serve him right if she went without him! For a few minutes she toyed with the idea of doing just that, but then she saw him in her mind, helpless and terrified, and knew she could no more abandon him than she could sprout wings and fly. He wanted her to look for him, of course, that was what it was all about; and that was what she was going to have to do. Still fuming, Nicky gathered up her bags and went to find her brother.

  She looked in Smith’s bookshop, and in the cafeteria, and in all the telephone boxes, and in the booths where you sit to take your own photograph. She walked from one end of the station to the other, and there was no sign of him. She stayed near the Gents’ toilet for a long time, in case he was hiding in there, but he didn’t come out.

  She looked at the clock, and saw that the time was nearly twenty minutes past eleven. The train would be gone! They had missed it, and all because of Roy. There was a boy going into the Gents’, and Nicky asked him to see if there was a kid inside who looked about eight; but the boy came back and said there was no kid in there at all.

  Again, Nicky walked from one end of the station to the other, and it suddenly occurred to her that Roy might have run out of the station altogether. He might have really got lost! It might take hours and hours to find him, and all the trains to Southbourne would be gone. When she found him she would give him a good thump, for making them miss all the trains.

  Someone was looking at her. Nicky felt the gaze coming from somewhere over her right shoulder and she turned sharply, to see who it was. A big spotty girl, wearing a blouse and a skirt that might have been school uniform, grinned and winked.

  Why was the spotty girl grinning and winking? Why was she looking, like that? Nicky didn’t like being looked at when she didn’t know the reason. She turned to walk away, and the spotty girl followed. What was she up to? Nicky ran, and the spotty girl ran. Nicky dodged round a family group, and the mother swore at her for nearly tripping up grandma. Nicky thumbed her nose as she ran, but she was getting to be out of breath; and the spotty girl, she could see when she turned, was still behind her.

  Round the corner were the photograph booths. Nicky dived into the first one, and pulled the curtain, and drew her knees up to her chin as she sat on the stool, so no one could see her legs through the gap.

  Then the curtain was yanked back, and the spotty girl was bending over her, her hands holding the sides of the booth, pinning Nicky in. ‘Go away!’ said Nicky, furiously.

  ‘Hold on!’ said the spotty girl. ‘Weren’t you looking for someone?’

  ‘Not at all,’ said Nicky. ‘I’m having my photograph taken, can’t you see?’

  ‘Well not in this one, you aren’t,’ said the spotty girl. ‘This one’s out of order.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Nicky, feeling a bit silly. ‘I didn’t notice.’

  ‘You don’t have to worry about me, you know,’ said the spotty girl, still grinning and winking. ‘I’m not going to tell of you.’

  ‘Tell what?’ said Nicky. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘Yes you do. You’re bunking off school, aren’t you?’

  ‘No. What a peculiar idea.’

  ‘It’s all right, I am too. Meet another bunker!’

  Nicky swallowed, still wary.

  ‘You lost your mate, didn’t you?’ said the spotty girl. ‘I saw you looking. Up and down, you been looking a long time.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ said Nicky.

  ‘Oh come on, you don’t h
ave to keep that up! A little kid – smaller than you. Is he your brother? Anyway, I know where he is.’

  ‘Where? I mean who? Who do you know is hiding somewhere?’

  ‘See that hut thing? Where you get the tickets for the Gatwick Express? Well he’s underneath it, round the back.’

  ‘I shall go and look,’ said Nicky. ‘Just to see who it is that’s hiding, in such a peculiar place.’

  Roy had crawled so far under the ticket office that he was barely visible, and he was all curled up, like a baby before it gets born. ‘Get out of there this minute, Roy Mitchell!’ said Nicky, prodding his back with her foot.

  He didn’t seem startled, particularly. He didn’t seem aware enough to be startled. He wriggled out slowly, and the eyes that looked up at her were glazed again, only half seeing. He muttered something, under his breath.

  ‘What was that?’

  He muttered again, and Nicky shook him. ‘I can’t understand gobble-gobble. Speak up!’

  ‘I SAID, “I WANT THE WORLD TO GO AWAY.”’

  ‘Don’t shout!’ said Nicky. ‘And don’t say such wicked rubbish. It’s a lovely world. I think so, anyway.’

  ‘I don’t like it,’ said Roy. ‘It’s all a lot of troubles.’

  Nicky sat beside him on the ground, and put her arm round his shoulders. ‘Well that’s what you got me for, isn’t it, you silly stupid fool!’

  ‘I did want you to find me,’ he said, not looking at her.

  ‘Of course you did. I know that. Who don’t know that? Only the thing is, you made us miss the train.’

  ‘Can’t we go, then?’

  ‘Of course we can go. There’ll be another train soon.’

  ‘Suppose we don’t find Mum when we get there?’

  Nicky did a handstand, against the back of the ticket office. ‘Can you do this?’

  ‘I said, suppose we don’t find her?’

  ‘I’m not going to suppose any bad things that haven’t happened yet,’ said Nicky. ‘Come on, let’s see who can make the ugliest face.’ She flattened her nose with her fingers, and stretched her mouth into a fiendish grin. ‘Come on, Roy, now you do one!’