Johnny was lying diagonally across his bed, feet and head hanging off on either side, smoking and staring, upside down, at the bookcase on the other side of his small room. Seeing Stratton, he righted himself in a single movement, leant on his elbows, and stared up at him. ‘What are you doing here?’ he asked.
Looking round, Stratton saw a row of books, mostly from the library, by authors such as Sapper, Peter Cheyney, and Erle Stanley Gardener. ‘I didn’t know you liked detective stories,’ he said.
‘They’re all right.’
Stratton picked up a book. ‘Sabatini. I used to like him.’
‘Soft,’ said Johnny, scornfully, blowing smoke.
‘I suppose they must be, to modern taste. I haven’t read one for years.’
‘You didn’t come up here to talk about books, did you?’
‘No,’ said Stratton. ‘I didn’t. I’ve come for a chat.’
‘I’m not scared of you.’
‘I should hope not,’ said Stratton, sitting down beside him on the bed. ‘Move over.’
‘Oi!’ said Johnny. ‘What you doing?’
‘Making myself comfortable. I suggest you do the same.’
‘Why?’
‘Well, you don’t want to be uncomfortable, do you?’
Johnny levered himself off the bed. ‘I’m going out.’
‘No, you’re not,’ said Stratton. ‘Not till you’ve heard what I’m going to say.’
Johnny looked down at him. ‘Supposing I don’t want to?’
Stratton, who certainly wouldn’t have accepted that sort of talk from Pete, decided to let it go. ‘That would be a shame,’ he said, mildly, ‘because you’re in trouble, and I’d like to help.’
‘Arrest me, you mean.’
‘Why would I want to do that?’
‘You know.’
‘The petrol coupons?’
‘That wasn’t me. You all think it was, but it wasn’t.’
‘Who was it, then?’
‘The others.’
‘What others?’
‘At the garage.’
‘Mr Hartree doesn’t employ anyone else.’
‘It was him and his pals doing it. They blamed me ’cause they was scared someone would find out.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
‘I don’t care. You always think the worst of me - all of you. Whatever I do, doesn’t make no difference.’
‘Your mother believes you.’
‘Yeah ...’ Johnny’s mouth curved in the suggestion of a smirk, before resuming its habitual sullen shape.
‘And your father—’
‘My
father
.’ The word came out in a sneer, ‘He’s an old fool, and you know it.’
Stratton, caught off guard and cursing himself for mentioning Reg, stood up and went over to the window. Of course Johnny wasn’t stupid, and anyone with half an eye could see that Reg was a fool.
‘You think so,’ said Johnny, driving home his advantage. ‘And Uncle Donald. You despise him.’
Oh, Christ. Johnny had him, and Donald, bang to rights. I am making a complete balls-up of this, thought Stratton. He knew that the boy disliked his father, but he had no idea that his and Donald’s feelings were so clear - but then, a determinedly straight face could be just as much of a giveaway as an eye-rolling grimace. What the hell could he say? Now Johnny had the upper hand, and he was the one caught on the hop. Feeling the boy’s eyes boring into him, he said, in an attempt to salvage the situation, ‘We don’t despise him, Johnny, it’s just ...’
‘I know how it is.’ Johnny’s tone was flat. ‘If you’re going to give me some speech about how grown-ups don’t always get along and difficult times and all that, you can save it. Dad may be stupid, but I’m not.’
‘I know you’re not,’ said Stratton, ‘but - leaving aside your dad - you are in a fix.’
‘Who says I am?’
‘Your mother is very worried about you.’
‘She’s no need to be. I’ve told her I’m getting another job.’
‘Are you?’
‘Yeah. Next week.’
‘What is it?’
‘Dekker’s.’
‘Why would Dekker’s employ you? Mr Hartree isn’t going to give you a reference.’
‘Trusts me, doesn’t he? Unlike some. I’m going to train as a mechanic.’
‘Why would Mr Dekker want another mechanic with everyone’s car up on blocks?’
‘His other bloke’s been called up, that’s why.’
‘I can check, you know.’
‘You do that. Like I said, I don’t care.’
‘Well, I do, and so does your Mum. She overheard you talking - boasting you’d killed someone. I’m sure it isn’t true,’ Stratton laughed, ‘you wouldn’t know the first thing about it, but all the same, it’s not very clever to go around saying things like that.’
This stung, as Stratton had intended it to. ‘I know more than you think,’ said Johnny sulkily. ‘You think I’m too young and too stupid to know things, but I’m not.’
‘You’re giving a pretty good impression of it.’
‘I’m not.’ Johnny glared at him.
‘Yes,’ said Stratton gently, ‘you are. You don’t want people to think you’re a fool, do you?’
‘They don’t think I’m a fool,’ said Johnny. ‘They respect me.’
‘Who does?’
‘People.’
‘People respect you,’ repeated Stratton. ‘I’m relieved to hear it. Is that because they’re scared you’re going to kill them, too?’
‘I never said ...’ Johnny tailed off, uncertain now.
‘You never said you didn’t. “Some old girl up west”. Easy to kill an old woman, was it? Good fun?’
‘I didn’t say that!’
‘Your mother heard you. Telling your chums they’d better watch out because you’d done a murder.’
‘I never meant it.’
‘Didn’t you? Then you were a fool to say you’d done it, weren’t you?’ Johnny hung his head. ‘Tell me about this old girl,’ said Stratton. ‘What was she like?’
‘She wasn’t ...’ The boy wasn’t looking at him now. Instead, his eyes flitted round the room as if he were seeking a way of escape.
‘Wasn’t what?’ Stratton prompted.
‘Nothing. I told you. I didn’t do it.’
‘Then who did?’
‘Nobody! I made it up. I never meant it.’ Still, he didn’t look at Stratton. ‘I was being stupid,’ he mumbled at the floor. ‘Like you said.’
‘Were you, Johnny? Look at me.’
Johnny raised his head a couple of inches, then dropped it again. ‘I haven’t done nothing.’
‘Another mistake, was it? Somebody else’s fault?’
‘No ... It wasn’t anything. I never meant it.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes! Look, Uncle Ted, I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go out now.’ He took his jacket from the hook on the back of the door.
‘Going to see your friend Mr Wallace?’
Johnny froze, his hand on the door handle, then turned back to face Stratton. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he said, then yanked the door open and clattered down the stairs and out of the house. Stratton watched him run down the street. The boy knew something about Mabel. He may not - God, let this be true - have had a hand in her death, but he did know something.
THIRTY-NINE
Stratton went downstairs to Lilian, who was sitting at the kitchen table. The oddness of this struck him immediately, but it took a bit longer for him to realise why: Jenny and her sisters were always doing something - drinking tea, talking, knitting, mending, cooking - they never just sat. Lilian appeared to be in a sort of trance of misery and flinched when he spoke to her. ‘I’ll be fine,’ she said, in response to his question. ‘Just being silly.’
‘No, you’re not.’
‘I’m so worried, Ted.’
‘I know. I’ve spoken to Johnny, and ...’ Stratton stopped, realising that there wasn’t actually anything specific he could say by way of reassurance. ‘It’s true he’s got in with a bad crowd, but I’m sure he’ll see sense. It’s hard for him, Lilian - he can’t go in the forces like his dad, which must be a big disappointment for him. I don’t know all the rights and wrongs of this thing at Hartree’s, but he’s obviously unsettled at the moment. He’s not a bad lad - just needs a bit of time to sort himself out.’ All right, he said to himself, as Lilian dabbed at her eyes with a screwed up handkerchief, the stuff about the services is probably balls, and he would happily put his last penny on the fact that the boy was involved in the coupon business, but he didn’t really have a clue why Johnny was acting as he was, and his mother needed to hear something.
He was about to elaborate further when he heard the front door open, and Reg’s voice issued from the hall. ‘Anybody home?’
‘Bloody hell,’ muttered Stratton.
‘Don’t tell him,’ Lilian said, just as Reg walked into the kitchen, wearing his Home Guard uniform. ‘Don’t tell him what?’ he asked, rubbing his hands together vigorously. ‘Got a surprise for me? Had a good day today, I don’t mind telling you - orders for Christmas cards coming in left, right and centre, and an excellent parade this evening. The men are coming on a treat.’
‘That’s nice, dear,’ said Lilian, automatically.
‘Nice? It’s a damn sight more than that! Honestly, women ...’ he rolled his eyes at Stratton. ‘Any tea in the pot?’
‘I’ll make some fresh.’ Lilian stood up and spent what seemed an unnecessarily long time busying herself with the kettle and cups, while Reg gave a demonstration of bayonet training which involved a lot of leaping about and blood-curdling yells. ‘Still using broom handles, of course,’ he panted, pulling up a chair, ‘Weapons haven’t arrived from HQ as yet. What’s this surprise, then? Something good for tea?’
Stratton winced. ‘No,’ he said. ‘It’s Johnny.’
‘Don’t, Ted,’ said Lilian, quietly. ‘Let it alone.’
‘Still fussing about the boy?’ Reg asked. ‘Storm in a teacup. I’m going to use my influence with the Major. Get him into the unit.’ He made it sound like a commission in the Guards. ‘Do him good. Discipline, exercise, fresh air - just what the boy needs.’ Christ, thought Stratton, he’ll be talking about cold baths in a minute. ‘Johnny’s in trouble,’ he said. ‘He’s been sacked from his job.’
‘What?’
‘He’s been accused of stealing. Fiddling petrol coupons. It’s serious.’
‘When did this happen?’
‘A couple of weeks ago.’
‘Did you know about this?’ Reg asked Lilian, who was standing by the stove, twisting a tea-towel in her hands.
‘Yes, dear.’
‘Why the hell didn’t you tell me?’
‘I thought ...’ Lilian faltered and stopped, staring down at the lino.
‘You didn’t think,’ snapped Reg. ‘That’s your trouble. You never do. How do you
think
this makes
me
look? Stupid, that’s what. If it got out ... Have you told anyone?’
‘Only Jen and Doris.’
‘Only Jen and Doris,’ Reg mimicked. ‘You might as well put up a public notice.’
‘I thought it would blow over, dear, and Johnny’s getting another job.’
‘For God’s sake! Blow over? I suppose it never occurred to you to consider my position?’
Lilian flushed. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said.
‘It’s a bit late for that, isn’t it? How am I going to look when people know that my son has been caught with his hand in the till? This is your fault! I’ve done my part, but you ...’ Reg spluttered to a halt, shaking his head. ‘Time and time again, I’ve made it clear to her,’ he told Stratton, ‘but she doesn’t listen. I might as well talk to the wall.’
Lilian had her hands over her face. Why she was still standing there, Stratton could not imagine. The man’s egotism really was beyond belief. ‘The point is,’ he began, but Reg cut him off.
‘I’ll tell you what the bloody point is! Someone needs to sort that boy out, that’s the point! Where is he?’
‘He’s gone out.’
‘What did you let him go out for?’ Reg bellowed at Lilian. ‘What the hell’s the matter with you?’
Lilian removed her hands from her face. ‘I’m sorry,’ she repeated. She looked dazed, as if someone had punched her.
‘That’s enough, Reg,’ said Stratton, quietly. ‘Losing your temper isn’t going to help anyone.’
‘Ted,’ said Reg in a strangled voice. ‘You’re not going to ... I mean, this isn’t going to be taken any further, is it?’
Stratton shook his head. ‘Mr Hartee seems to have decided not to report it, so no, not this time. But if it happens again, and I find out about it ...’ He shrugged.
‘Thank you,’ said Reg, then, with more confidence, ‘I knew we could rely on you to do the right thing. After all, it’s family, isn’t it? And this sort of thing happens all the time, nowadays. I’m sure it’s just a—’
Stratton, who was thinking that if Reg started on about boyish japes and the foolishness of youth, he might just have to hit him, interrupted. ‘I’m not sure you appreciate the seriousness of this, Reg. Johnny’s got in with a very bad crowd. I’ve spoken to him, and I hope he’ll see sense, but you need to keep an eye on him from now on.’