by Ruth Eastham
Mrs Atkinson stamped her feet on the snowy gravel. She turned to Sasha and Josh. “Hannah will be back soon – I phoned her. I’d like some time with just the two of them, if I may?”
I saw Sasha open her mouth to argue, but Mrs Atkinson cut her off. “I’d like you to go home now, please.”
You could see she meant it. She was getting rid of them, just like that! But I’d not had chance to mention anything about the phone call with Dad, or the ballroom ceiling!
But there was no way any Mrs Atkinson was going to stop me getting back to Bletchley Park. No way.
Sasha made wide eyes at me as she walked away, and Josh dragged his feet as he wheeled his bike.
“Let’s go in and get warm, Nathan,” said Mrs Atkinson, with a wide smile. “You can show me around the house.”
I was halfway through the grand guided tour when Hannah got back.
“It’s all true,” she whispered when we were sat back in the sitting room and Mrs Atkinson was messing about in the kitchen. “I got a call from Mr Edwards.”
“We can all stay in the rest of the day and get to know each other,” said Mrs Atkinson, breezing into the room with a tray of three steaming mugs.
“I’d like to go out soon,” I said. “Meet up with Sasha and Josh.”
Mrs Atkinson sat herself down in Mum’s chair with her cup. “We’ll see,” she said.
“But I need to go and…”
“I’d rather you both stay in,” she said firmly. She took a sip of tea. “Now, Nathan. Tell me a little about yourself.”
I sat on my bed, thinking hard and fuming. It had been ages before I could escape from Mrs Atkinson’s “getting to know you” interrogations, and then the agonizing “lighthearted classic film” she’d insisted we watch together. I had to get to the Bletchley Park ballroom! But it was already half three. It’d be virtually closing by the time I got there now, even if it wasn’t shutting early because of the snow, and even if I could leave right away. Even if Mrs Atkinson let me, because when I’d tried to go out, she’d stopped me in the hallway and said, It’s getting dark soon, so I’d rather you didn’t.
I’d thought about just sneaking off, but she kept checking up on me. Virtually every quarter of an hour she’d been in to ask me a question about the heating, or where the remote for the telly was, or where the dog food was kept, and other fake stuff, probably just to check I hadn’t done a runner.
There were clattering noises from the kitchen. Classical music from Hannah’s room. Classical music? I must be hearing things! I forced myself to think clearly.
That’s when I remembered Percy’s bunch of keys.
I’d have to go to Bletchley Park after hours; there was no way round it now. The workmen would be gone but someone might see me in the grounds, and there was no chance anyway that Mrs Atkinson would let me go out. It would have to be during the night, then, I decided. I’d have to get out of the house somehow in secret and…
I couldn’t believe what I was planning. Breaking into Bletchley Park Mansion after dark! Me getting a criminal record – that would really help Mum’s state of mind.
I got the bunch of keys out and fanned them on the duvet. Several had coloured stickers with labels like Front Gallery, Block B Office, Hut 8 Exhibition Room… There was one called Side entrance by H11 – that must be for the gate Percy had used to leave the Bletchley Park grounds – and two others: Mansion Main Door and a little silver one with Alarm and a code pencilled on: 71940.
My hand closed around the keys with a grim smile. This was an emergency situation, Percy, I thought. It called for emergency measures.
And all this thinking about keys had given me another idea as well.
A phone rang downstairs, a ringtone I didn’t recognize, and I heard Mrs Atkinson answer it. I tiptoed from stair to stair towards the front room. She was in there, still on her mobile, her voice all low and sharp. I crept closer, not making the slightest sound. I got to the bottom step and pressed myself round the side of the door frame, straining to catch a few words. Both upstairs … keeping an eye … making sure they don’t leave the house…
I felt my eyes narrow. Maybe this Mrs Atkinson wasn’t everything she said she was. My back shivered. What if she was one of Them? What if she’d been sent to stop me finding the evidence? Come to think of it, that would fit with why she wasn’t letting Hannah or me go out.
Well, two could play at that game.
Mrs Atkinson moved off into the kitchen, still on her phone, and I was in the room like a shot and my hand was in her bag feeling around for her keys, her purse. It didn’t feel right, messing with her stuff like that, but what choice did I have?
I found the purse first. I undid the zip and rummaged in the compartments.
I heard a drawer open and something clatter on to the kitchen floor. Swearing. Hurry up, I told myself. Come on!
I was about to give up on the purse when, right at the back of a zipped-up part, I found a white ID card with her photo and M. Stafford printed on it. I waggled it to get it out … HM SPECIAL SERVICES. So I’d been right! She wasn’t any standin mum. She was even using a false name!
Her keys were next. I lifted out the heavy clump and went through them at the speed of light until I found the key to her smart little Mini and struggled to try and get it off the key ring.
The metal ring snapped at my fingernail painfully as I rushed to twist the key off. If Mrs Atkinson found out I’d gone, at least she wouldn’t be able to come after me, not straightaway anyway. Come on!
“I’ll keep in touch,” Mrs Atkinson was saying. “Yes… Yes… Right.”
I heard the beep of her mobile being turned off and I leapt to the hallway and then pretended to be just coming down the stairs, banging deliberately on the last couple. I slouched in the armchair, the fake Mrs Atkinson’s car key in my pocket jabbing me.
She came in to the front room and I saw she was wearing Mum’s apron. “There you are!” she said, like she hadn’t seen me in days.
I eyed her handbag on the chair, the slight quiver in its strap.
“I thought you might like something to eat,” she said. “Now your big birthday breakfast’s worn off. Call Hannah, will you?”
It hadn’t worn off; it was still a solid lump in my stomach, but the table in the kitchen was all laid out. Tomato soup and a glass of milk. Toast cut into neat triangles and paper serviettes with a perfect crease. Hannah came and sat there all quiet, her hair in a long, neat plait and no make-up, in a pale blue tracksuit I hadn’t seen her wear in years, sipping her watery red soup. I’d never seen her so docile.
“Hungry?”
I still didn’t answer her. I didn’t see why I should.
“Sit down and have your food then.” Mrs Atkinson turned back to the cooker and stirred a frying pan of crouton cubes, humming along with the radio.
Hannah leaned over and caught my wrist. “Stop being stupid, Nathan,” she hissed. “They’ve got Mum too now, get it? If we don’t do what they want … they could say she was in on it too! Now sit down and eat.”
I slumped on to my chair reluctantly and picked up my spoon.
Hannah eyed me suspiciously. “What are you up to, Nathan?” she whispered. “What’s all this about school projects and all that? Don’t think Mum and I don’t talk! What’s going on?”
Been checking up on me, had she? “Nothing,” I mumbled. “There’s nothing going on.” But Hannah was right. I shouldn’t do anything to make Mrs Atkinson suspicious.
Hannah didn’t look like she believed me, but she said, “Don’t do anything to hack them off, that’s all.”
“Not hungry, Nathan?” said Mrs Atkinson. She hovered by my shoulder. “Would you like me to make you something else?”
“No, thanks, this is fine.” I clamped my teeth on the toast and took a bite.
I ran the plot through in my head. I’d stay at home, keep everything normal, make Mrs Atkinson think I was just hanging around the house all depressed with nothing to do
, but when she was out of the way, I’d prepare the things I needed and…
“I’d like to go up to my room now and telephone my boyfriend, Gavin, please,” said Hannah. “Then I’ve some college work to do.”
I tried not to choke on my toast. Hannah really was playing along. When did my big sister ever ask permission to talk to Gavin?
“That’s fine,” Mrs Atkinson said, while Hannah went upstairs, giving me a quick, hard stare as she left.
Mrs Atkinson opened the flap of her handbag and took out a stick of lip balm and smeared some on her mouth. “So, Nathan, what are you doing for the rest of today? You weren’t still hoping to see Sasha and Joshua again, were you?” and from the way she said it, something in her voice…
Sasha and Josh – it hit me – they were in real danger. It was OK me taking a risk; it was my dad we were trying to save after all. But if Mum could be grabbed for no good reason, or anyone they thought was involved…
My hand made a fist. I didn’t care about myself, but I couldn’t stand the thought of something happening to Sasha or Josh. I just knew I had to keep them out of it from now on. They wouldn’t like it, but I’d made up my mind. I’d already got them into enough trouble.
“Nathan?” said the fake Mrs Atkinson. “I asked if you were planning to see Joshua or Sasha again today?”
“Not really,” I said slowly. “But if either of them ring,” I mumbled, “can you … would you mind telling them I’m not in? I just want to be by myself the rest of today, you know?”
“I understand,” she said, looking all concerned.
“And if they call round later, can you tell them I’m asleep or something?” I asked. “They just … they just keep asking me stuff and I don’t want to talk about it.”
The woman looked at me. “If that’s what you want. That’s probably best. We’ll stay in together! Just the three of us.”
As if there was a choice. But I thought I’d better keep her happy. “Yeah,” I said. I’d stay at home with her and join in her chit-chat. I’d be a perfect boy. Later on, I’d pretend to go to bed, then slip out, get to Bletchley somehow, make it into the ballroom and then…
There were quite a few things that could go wrong. Like, would I really be able to switch off the burglar alarm when I went into the mansion, and might the code have changed from the one pencilled on the key, and assuming I got to the ballroom and found the ceiling design of the moon, what then? How would I get up there? Would I have enough time?
“I’m going to watch telly for a while now,” Mrs Atkinson said. “There’s another film I want to see.”
I did well not to grimace. “I’ll probably go back up to my bedroom after I’ve finished eating,” I said. “Read awhile, if that’s OK?”
“Course it is! I won’t disturb you.” The woman scooped up her bag and I caught my breath. She reached out and patted my arm. “Must be very stressful, all this business. Want a cup of tea to take up with you?”
All so polite and sugar sweet. She made me want to puke. But I kept playing along. I hung my head, pretending to be all grateful. “Thanks.”
I finished my soup and toast quickly and went up to my room, turning my plan over and over in my mind. How was I going to get back to Bletchley after dark? I fretted. There weren’t any buses from ours at that time of night. It’d take too long to walk. Calling a taxi would be too dodgy. I could bike it, though. Six miles – I could do that in, what, half an hour to an hour?
My phone rang. I looked at the screen to see who it was. Sasha. I ignored it. Josh rang a few minutes later. I ignored that too and turned my phone off. I should never have involved them in the first place. It was way too risky.
It was agony, waiting around for night, but I tried to make good use of the time. I got out my extra-warm jacket and started to put what I needed into its deep pockets: Percy’s keys, my head torch, my phone, a few chocolate bars as emergency rations, and the other things I’d be wearing – my gloves, my woolly hat. I carefully ripped the moon and stars ballroom-ceiling picture out of the Bletchley Park book and put that in a pocket too. I stared at the business card Mr Edwards had given me, at the private number he’d scribbled on it. I might need to contact him, but could he be trusted? In the end I shoved the card in a pocket as well. Then I hid the jacket in my wardrobe with my boots and my bike helmet.
I tiptoed up to the attic library and dragged Auntie Hilda’s old dummy across the floor. It was going to be part of my plan for tonight. It was a big job, getting it down those spiral stairs quietly, and the material of its RAF uniform kept getting snagged on the splintery banister, but I made it and bunged it in my wardrobe and as I forced the door closed on its startled face I had a fit of giggles, but that was nerves, I guess.
I lay on my bed, fretting about Mum, fretting about Dad, watching the warplane models on the ceiling circle slowly in the draught. I read some of my Mysteries of the Universe book to pass the time and steady my nerves, although chapters on spontaneous human combustion and messages from the dead probably weren’t the best choices. I got up loads of times to double-check everything, but really I knew I was as ready as I’d ever be and eventually I decided that I should try and get some proper sleep. I pulled off my trainers and got under the duvet, setting the alarm clock on my mobile and sliding it under my pillow. Only 17:22. I closed my eyes, but I couldn’t relax.
At one point I heard the doorbell go, Match of the Day style. Then a loud knock. Then Sasha calling me through the letter box. I lay there chewing the inside of my cheek, telling myself, It’s for their own good. It’s too dangerous. Keep them out of it. I heard Sasha’s voice raised in surprise. Mrs Atkinson’s voice, all angry. The door banging shut.
I breathed out. More ringing, knocking, shouting. I turned over and covered my ears with my hands, trying to block the sounds out. Go away!
Eventually it went quiet. I lay there, still trying to sleep. I think I must have dropped off a few times, but I kept waking up, worried about what time it was, worried that it was Monday morning already and I was too late. But the clock crawled on … 18:07 … 18:08 … 18:09… Somehow it got to 19:34 and I heard Hannah calling me and I went down and forced myself to eat even more food Mrs Atkinson had made, like she was trying to fatten us up or something: a supper of corned beef from a tin and lumpy mashed potatoes, then rice pudding with a splat of red jam. But I reckoned I needed all the energy I could get for tonight.
Hannah didn’t say much, but she was all pale and kept giving me looks across the table, and slipped up to the bathroom while Mrs Atkinson was dolloping out the rice pudding and was away ages.
“I’ll make us cocoa,” Hannah offered after we’d cleared the plates, the creep, and Mrs Atkinson beamed at her.
I went back to bed, listening to the sound of the telly through the floorboards. Later I heard Mrs Atkinson tramping upstairs and my door opening a chink as she looked in at me pretending to be asleep. The door closed quietly. There was the sound of a tap running in the bathroom, the door to Mum and Dad’s bedroom swinging open.
I lay there, eyes snapped wide. Just a little longer, I told myself. Be ready.
I pulled the curtain open and let the full moon’s light flood in. I looked out at the garden, at the outline of the well, the shed, the air-raid shelter. The big moon behind the tree branches made the garden sparkle.
The pane in front of me shook, making me spring back from the window, and Bones dropped down with a yowl. The glass rattled again, like something had been thrown against it. I tried to look out, but it was hard to see. Mrs Atkinson must have heard that; surely she would be in any second! I waited. Nothing. I lifted the latch and yanked the window open.
Two figures stood in the dark garden staring up at me, their eyes lit like ghosts: Sasha and Josh, who was about to lob another handful of gravel.
“Why wouldn’t you answer your phone?” Sasha hissed.
I said nothing.
“Why, Nathan?”
I stuck my head out as far as
I could and pulled my window closed a bit.
“It’s not safe,” I muttered. “They might hear.”
“We don’t care about them hearing!” she said. “We already knew it wasn’t safe, so why push us out?” she demanded.
I said nothing.
“Tell us!”
“The trail’s off,” I mumbled. “Dad told me it was all a fake.”
“Rubbish!” Sasha snapped back. “I don’t believe you. Did someone threaten you?”
I won’t let anything happen to you, I promised them in my head.
“Because if they did,” Sasha stuttered, “even if they’re on to us, you’re not pushing us out, Nathan!” Her voice was angry. I saw her swot a tear from her cheek. “Not after everything we’ve been through. Whatever they said to you, I don’t care. I don’t care! We’re in this together!”
“It’s true, Nathan.”
I looked at Josh, his face pinched up with fear, shivering in his too-thin coat. And Sasha, her shoulders hunched in the cold. I saw my friends, my best friends, looking up at me, knowing what they were risking, and in that moment it was like something exploded in my chest. Like I was buried under rubble and the weight of it was pressing down on me, and everyone else had gone, but the two of them were still trying to find me, not giving up on me.
I swallowed, then tried to think straight. I thought about the bugs listening in. “I’m leaving for the stadium at midnight,” I said loudly. “Be here with your bikes, and no noise.”
Sasha set her mouth into a hard line. “I’m in,” she said, and I saw Josh nod once.
With a single nod back, I watched them slip away, melting into the moonlight as I pulled the window shut.
16
Miles to Go Before I Sleep
My alarm vibrated through my pillow and I sat up with a gasp. I felt freezing. My duvet had come off and the sheet was damp with sweat. I fumbled under the pillow. 23:50, my clock said. Ten to midnight. It was time.
