Crowns and Codebreakers (13 page)

The afternoon dragged. She tried to read. But images of the peanut boy swam in front of her eyes – the boy alone on the plane, lost at the airport, frightened when he realised he had the wrong bag. Had the gang hurt him? She put her book down. She clambered on to Gran’s bed and looked out of the window. The road was emptier now. The market had packed up and the shopfronts were shuttered like prison cells. A street sweeper drove his whirring machine at walking pace along the gutter. A few people carried shopping bags with last-minute groceries inside. Everyone was headed home.

The flat was strangely quiet. But then, nothing there felt normal at the moment. Mum and Dad had been snapping at each other like Hungry Hippos. Gran wandered around, seeming much smaller than her size, as though she were fading away. Minnie had the feeling that no one wanted to be in the flat at all really. Which was just horrible.

She drew the curtains sharply. Then went to see who was home. Maybe they could keep her mind off the boy until it was time to meet the others. Dad and Gran were in the living room. The telly was on too quietly. It was hard to hear the news. It was as though even the screen were tiptoeing around, worried about intruding. A woman was whispering about a train derailment, an MP taking money they shouldn’t have, a hospital in trouble.

The news was depressing. Minnie didn’t know why anyone would ever watch it. But Dad and Gran sat staring at it as though it was the most interesting thing ever.

‘Tea-time soon,’ Dad said without looking away from the screen. ‘Go wash your hands.’

Minnie did as she was told. The pipes in the bathroom clanged. Mum must be using the kitchen taps – the boiler couldn’t cope with two taps running at once. Which made washing hair in the salon squeally sometimes.

When Minnie went back to the living room, Mum was there too. She stood blocking the doorway, so Minnie waited in the hall behind her.

‘I’ve had a long day,’ Mum said. ‘Takeout all right for tea?’

Dad grunted.

‘I can cook,’ Gran said. She pushed herself up heavily.

‘No,’ Mum said, ‘you’re our guest. Sit.’

Gran frowned.

‘She’s not a guest,’ Minnie said from the hallway, ‘she’s family. She lives here now.’

Mum glanced at Dad, who was still watching the news. ‘Of course she’s family. But she’s a guest too. Joseph!’

Dad snapped his eyes away from the screen.

‘Tell your mother.’

‘What?’

‘That she’s not to cook.’

Dad looked confused. ‘I thought we were having a takeaway?’

Mum threw up her hands and tutted. ‘Are you listening? I’ll cook. It’s fine. I’m sure we’ve got something in I can use.’ She swept past Minnie, who had to duck out of the way, and stormed into the kitchen. They could all hear the clatter of pans being dropped heavily on to the stove.

Dad got up slowly from the sofa and barely glanced at Minnie as he passed her in the hall.

‘Taiwo,’ he said at the kitchen door, ‘leave that. We’ll get a takeout.’

‘No!’ Mum snapped. ‘I just wish you’d pay attention to what is happening around you. This is hard, you know, Joseph.’

Minnie sidled closer. She didn’t want to hear the row, but she couldn’t stop herself listening. It was like picking at a scab and making it bleed again.

Dad reached to take a pan from Mum’s hand. She snatched it away. ‘Leave it.’

Dad stood rigid, without speaking.

Minnie turned away. She rested her palms on the cool paintwork. Mum and Dad hadn’t bickered before. But now that everyone was crammed in and trying to be on their best behaviour in front of Gran, they were arguing more and more.

She went into the living room and sat down beside Gran. She leaned her head against the solid bulk of Gran’s shoulder. They could both hear the sniping coming from the kitchen, although Mum and Dad were trying to whisper.

‘A third adult in the house is a mistake,’ Gran said.

‘What? No!’ Minnie hadn’t liked the idea of sharing a
room with Gran, but now that she was it was cool. Gran was interesting! She didn’t want her to go.

Gran wrapped an arm around Minnie and held her tight. ‘You’re a good girl. And my son is a good son. And my daughter-in-law is a good girl too. But there is no home for me here. The tea knew.’ Gran gave a sad little chuckle. ‘I should have listened to the tea.’

She kissed Minnie softly, then rose, pressing her hand into the armrest to help herself up.

‘Where are you going?’

‘I don’t know,’ Gran said.

Minnie was left alone in the living room. She picked at the fuzzy strip that edged the armrest. Bits of green fluff came away under her nails. She’d thought that all she had to do tonight was slip out and rescue peanut boy and stop an art smuggling gang. But home needed help too. Gran needed to feel safe, to feel wanted. Mum and Dad needed to stop sniping at each other and have some fun.

Minnie smiled.

Babysitting.

She rushed into the kitchen with a huge grin spread across her face.

Mum and Dad were still hovering around the stove. The pans were still empty. Nothing had been resolved.

‘You should go out tonight!’ Minnie said. ‘You need it. You haven’t been out together for ages and ages! I think that you should see Gran living here as an opportunity, not a problem. She’s not a guest, she’s not a visitor to be tiptoed around. She’s my gran. And she can look after me so that you can go out and dance. You should be making the most of it, not moping around getting angry at each other.’

They both looked wary, but interested.

‘Dad, Mum, please. She just wants to feel wanted.’

‘Dancing?’ Mum repeated the word as though it were in a foreign language.

‘Yes! Dancing!’

Dad looked at Mum. ‘What do you think, Taiwo? A bit of time off, eh?’

‘And what about food? Tea for everyone?’

‘You can eat out,’ Minnie said. ‘I’ll make sandwiches for me and Gran.’

‘Sandwiches?’ Mum said.

‘It will be fine,’ Minnie insisted. ‘You should have some fun for a change.’

‘The girl has a point,’ Dad said. ‘Maybe we do need to let our hair down.’

‘What, now?’ Mum looked as bemused as if a penguin had waddled in and put the kettle on.

‘Why not? We used to be impulsive. Do you remember?’ Dad wrapped his arm around Mum’s waist and pulled her into a spin. ‘We used to take off at a moment’s notice and stay up to watch the sunrise.’

‘We did, didn’t we?’

‘Go on,’ Minnie said, waving at Mum. ‘Go and put a dress on. And some lipstick.’

Mum smiled. ‘Give me two minutes.’

It did only take two minutes. Mum pulled on her favourite dancing dress, with a red skirt that flared when she twirled. She ran lipstick around her mouth and pressed her lips closed over a tissue. Done.

Dad was right behind her. He tugged on a clean shirt and his polished black shoes. There was an air of excitement in the flat now, like Christmas Eve.

Gran opened her bedroom door to see what all the noise was about and smiled. ‘You two are so handsome!’ she said.

‘You don’t mind us going out?’ Mum asked.

‘Go!’ Gran said. ‘While I’m still here to help.’

Mum dropped a quick kiss on Minnie’s head. ‘You’re a good girl. Thank you.’ Then they were gone. Minnie smiled, but Gran’s words to Mum made her feel prickly and weird. One evening of having a job to do wasn’t
enough to make Gran feel she had a role here. But Minnie wanted her to stay. She wanted Gran to feel safe and comfortable and at home.

And it was Swift Limited’s fault that she didn’t.

Minnie made two sandwiches in the kitchen and carried a plate through to Gran.

It was down to her to stop Gran from leaving, to save peanut boy, to save the king of Ife. But first she needed to get permission to go out.

‘I thought I might go out to see Sylvie,’ Minnie said. ‘I won’t be out late. Mum lets me sometimes, as long as I don’t have homework.’

‘Does she?’ Gran asked. ‘Well, Sylvie is such a very nice girl.’

Yuck. Gran was right about lots of things, but not about that.

‘What time will you be home?’

‘I’ll just be gone an hour,’ Minnie said, hoping that would be enough time.

Gran raised her head and looked out of the window. Warm evening sunshine was thrown across the street outside like a gold sari. ‘Be back before dark.’

Minnie grinned.

It was the perfect evening to rescue a missing boy.

The main railway line ran across town, tucked behind terraced gardens and potting sheds. Its embankments rose like ancient fortifications. The line itself snaked over archways into the station, where it branched into platforms: long concrete streaks where people stood sipping coffee.

Beyond the station, most of the lines came together again and shot off towards the next town. They ran parallel with metal boxy buildings, tangles of brambles and buddleia and barbed wire fences – the industrial estate.

Minnie rushed towards the station and waited impatiently for Andrew and Piotr – she had called them before leaving the flat. Flora had texted to say she was on her way.

There were a few late stragglers on their way home from work, but rush hour was well and truly over. The air was heavy and warm, the slow pace of evening taking over.

‘Hey!’ Andrew bounced into view, followed by Piotr.

‘How’s your mum?’ Minnie asked.

Andrew gave an orange segment smile. ‘Good. The doctor’s happy. She’s at home tucked up in front of re-runs of
Casualty
.’

‘She doesn’t mind you being out?’

‘We’re both allowed as long as we stay together,’ Piotr said. ‘And get home before dark. What about Flora and Sylvie?’

Minnie pointed back down the hill – Flora was skipping to meet them, her backpack bouncing and jangling. No Sylvie. Oh.

‘My dad has his office on the industrial estate,’ Flora said as she rushed up to greet them. ‘I’ve been there before. There’s a map of the whole thing on the way in.’

They made their way towards the estate together, stopping by a neatly trimmed patch of lawn like a miniature golf course. A board, maybe three metres high, was set up beyond the mini lawn. It was a map and a list of all the companies on the estate. There were tech agencies, paper products, office temps, PC repairs, and – there – Swift Limited. It had the smallest sign, right at the bottom of the board. The outline of a bird flew above the company name.

‘Two of us should go and look while two of us stand guard,’ Piotr said.

‘I’m going to look,’ Minnie said in a voice that meant arguing was pointless.

‘Sure,’ Piotr said. ‘I’ll come with you. Flora and Andrew, you can keep watch. Flora, you have your phone?’

Flora nodded.

‘Call us if you see anything. Call Jimmy if we don’t reply.’

Piotr and Minnie left them by the huge board.

The estate seemed deserted, the offices closed, lights switched off, car parks empty. Minnie felt as though she were in a ghost town. The black windows were like empty eye sockets, watching blindly.

She took a deep breath.

There was no black magic at work. The postcard was a cipher, that was all. And the boy hadn’t been taken by witches; he was a little boy who needed their help.

She had to be brave.

It was good that Piotr was walking beside her.

‘You OK?’ he asked.

She nodded. ‘You?’

‘Bit scared,’ he admitted.

She felt a little better. ‘It’s going to be all right,’ she said hopefully.

Swift Limited was at the end of a drive, fenced off from the other office units with a gate across the access road. The gate was closed. It squealed in protest as they drew back the bolt.

They were inside.

It was a low single-storey building, red brick, metal covers over the windows. The door facing them had a small plaque showing the same bird logo as the board.

‘This is it.’ Minnie walked up to the door and tried the handle. She hadn’t expected the door to open, and it didn’t.

She crept to the side of the building – no doors, no windows. Finally, she walked around the back. She could see an emergency exit set in the wall and three tiny windows, all but one completely covered by metal sheets. The building backed on to a high fence. The narrow patch between the wall and the fence was overgrown with nettles and dotted with wind-blown rubbish. It smelled of damp earth and leaves.

‘I’m not going down there,’ Piotr said. ‘Our legs will get stung to death.’

‘You’ve got jeans on, and it’s nothing a dock leaf won’t fix.’

‘OK, just don’t spit on the dock leaf first. That’s gross.’

They walked carefully, nudging the nettles aside with their feet before treading gently.

‘Ow,’ Piotr said, as a nettle sprang back up and swiped his hand.

‘Shh,’ Minnie said.

Just then, one of the small windows opened a fraction. Just a centimetre or two.

Minnie froze. Piotr, sucking at his stung wrist, stopped too.

The window opened wider. A head leaned out.

The head belonged to a young boy with close-cut black hair and skin the warm brown of oak.

‘Hello,’ the boy said. He had an accent that Minnie recognised instantly. Lagos.

‘Hello,’ she said.

‘What do you want?’ the boy asked, his voice nervous.

‘My gran saw you on the plane,’ Minnie said. ‘We know there’s a gang who make you deliver messages. Are you all right? Are the gang here now?’

The boy glanced warily over his shoulder. ‘I’m on my own, except for the demons.’

‘Right,’ Minnie said. ‘Get back from the window. We’re coming in.’

Sylvie’s acting class was over.

She packed up her plimsolls in a vanity case and washed her face in the bathroom before heading out.

There was warm evening sunshine outside, so instead of calling Mum to ask for a lift, she decided to walk. Her calves ached from dance earlier. She walked on tiptoes to stretch them out. Maybe it was worth calling Mum after all?

She unclipped the clasps on her case and looked for her phone. It wasn’t there. Rats. Mum hadn’t packed it. Still. It was a nice evening. The walk wasn’t far. She’d be home in ten minutes.