The Father's House (15 page)

Lucy watched unnoticed, afraid to move. The father was horrible to shout at Aunt Sarah. Lucy looked past him through the open door into the lobby, and up the stairs that led to his apartment.

When he had gone Aunt Sarah looked upset. Lucy wondered if she dared to ask what it was she had to make time for.

Sarah was muttering to herself.

“What's the matter, Aunt Sarah?” asked Lucy nervously.

Sarah let go of her usual stern expression for a moment, and even looked resentful.

“I can't do everything,” she said, almost to herself. “Look after him, two children, two tenants, do all the cooking, washing, shopping, and now he wants me to clean his flat because Martha's got a bad back.”

“I'll help you,” said Lucy promptly.

“You've got school,” said Sarah, “but you're a good girl. Thank you. You can help in the holidays by looking after Paul for me, and doing some shopping.” She sighed. “I must look upon it as a duty performed in the service of the Magnifico.”

She sat down at the table and put her head in her hands.

“I'll make you a cup of tea,” said Lucy, putting on the kettle. “And I'll give Paul his bath.”

When Paul was in bed Lucy stepped out into the garden. It was a lovely evening. She sat on the swing and gently pushed herself back and forth with her feet. The side gate clicked and she thought for a second of the hooded figure, but it was only Thomas.

“Hello,” he said. “Shouldn't you be in bed, or doing your homework or something?”

“No, I've done it, and I don't go to bed till nine o'clock nowadays because it's so light.”

She jumped down and joined him on his way to the garage. A rolled-up cigarette dangled from his lips dripping loose wisps of tobacco. It reminded her of the chauffeur on the night the new tenant had arrived. She realised to her surprise that she had never mentioned that night to him.

“Why have you come so late?” she asked.

“I've just finished my shift at the hospital. Today it was sad work because somebody died. A bit of gardening will help take my mind off it.”

Lucy stroked his hand. “Poor Thomas,” she said. She wished she could comfort him.

She followed him into the garage. Picking up his torch from the window sill near the door, he went over to the shelves at the rear. He switched on the torch and shone it into his toolbox, poking around for a screwdriver and a hammer, and other bits and pieces. Lucy stood beside him, watching with interest.

“What's that for?” she asked, when he picked up a small tool with a round wooden handle and long piece of pointed metal.

“It's an awl, for making holes where I want to put screws.”

Stumbling over some old tins of paint he made his way back towards the entrance. It was surprising, thought Lucy, that he kept the garden so tidy and yet the garage was always in a mess. He put the torch back on the window sill, and threw the tools down onto a pile of sacks near the door. His working anorak hung from a hook in the corner by the window. He pulled it on and hung up his respectable jacket in its place.

“See what I've got,” he said, taking a small gadget out of the jacket pocket. “It's a mobile phone. You carry it around and can phone from anywhere you like.”

The two of them sat down on the sacks and Thomas showed Lucy the various tricks this wonderful invention could perform. He took a quick photo of her to show her the camera, but it was too dark in the garage to make a clear picture.

“I'll do it again outside,” he said. “Look, this is where I put in all my phone numbers, then all I have to do is press a button and their phone rings. It saves me having to look up the numbers. And if I just want to send a message, I can do something called a text. See?” He tapped in some words onto the tiny screen.

“Can I ring Aunt Sarah?”

“You'd better not. She might think you're wasting her time. Come on outside, quick, and I'll take another photo.”

Lucy stood with her back to the setting sun.

“Smile!”

She smiled. He showed her the photo. It was the first she had ever seen of herself, and she laughed. “Is that what I look like?”

“I'll make you a copy to keep,” said Thomas. He took the phone back into the garage and put it in his jacket pocket.

“If you lose it, you'll lose all those numbers,” said Lucy.

“Don't worry. I‘ll take good care of it, but I've got them all noted down, just in case.” He picked his tools up off the pile of sacks. “Right! I've come to work, not to chat. I must get a move on.”

Outside the wheelbarrow was in its usual place, leaning against the outside wall of the garage. Thomas turned it over onto its wheel and placed the tools and a fork and spade inside.

“I want to mend some gaps in the back gate and do a bit of digging,” he said.

“Have you noticed how my pansies have grown?” asked Lucy.

“Of course,” he said kindly. “They've come on really well. And your carrots. Here, have a sweetie. What's Father Copse up to these days? Did you know he's applied for the Deputy Envoy's job?”

With a quick glance at the kitchen window Lucy stuffed a toffee into her mouth.

“No. Does that mean he'll go away?”

“If he gets the job he might.”

Lucy's heart lifted for a moment. Thomas smiled at the expression on her face.

“It'll be OK. He's got a really good chance. There's no-one to beat him when it comes to preaching. It curdles the blood in your veins.”

Lucy shuddered.

“And he's a brilliant infiltrator,” Thomas continued. “It's the charisma – the charm.” He laughed. “Don't look so astonished. Everyone has more to them than what you see. All the top judges and civil servants, he mixes with them and what they don't realise is, he knows their secrets and passes them on. He knows more about them than they know themselves!”

He ruffled her hair.

“Let me know if you hear anything. You know I'm always interested in how you're getting on.”

“Of course I will. And thanks for the sweetie.”

“It's a pleasure.”

He stubbed out his cigarette and trundled off with his barrow leaving Lucy to wonder what a civil servant was, and to ponder over the truly amazing information that the father could be charming. The way he spoke to Aunt Sarah certainly wasn't charming. And the way that poor red-headed tenant had been bundled into the house hadn't been charming. But it must be really interesting to be an infiltrator. Perhaps she could be one. She wished she had some information to pass on to Thomas – just to practise. After a while she followed him. He was busy with the awl and a screwdriver doing something to a loose board in the back gate.

“Thomas,” said Lucy, appearing behind him.

“Yes?”

“Did you know we've got another tenant? We've got two now.”

A startled look passed quickly over Thomas's face and immediately changed to puzzlement.

“Two tenants?”

“Yes. In the top-floor flat.” She turned and pointed up at the barred windows.

“No, I didn't know,” said Thomas. “I suppose there's no reason why I should. Perhaps the father needs the income. What do they look like?”

“I've never seen them properly, though I know one of them has long red hair. And I'll tell you a secret. I once climbed into the lime tree from the wall over there, and I saw a lady's face looking out at me.”

A flash of annoyance passed over Thomas's face and quickly vanished.

“You shouldn't have done that,” he said firmly. “Supposing you got caught?”

“I know,” she said, “I've not done it again. But it was like how you imagine a lunatic asylum in a book with the lunatic gripping the bars trying to get out.”

“Listen to me,” said Thomas, crouching down in front of her and gripping her arms. “Don't tell anyone about this, promise me. And don't tell anyone how you got so high up into the tree – or that you got into the tree at all. Promise me!”

“OK, I promise,” said Lucy, somewhat shaken. Thomas knew perfectly well that there was one tenant because they had often talked about it. So why should it upset him to hear that there were two – or was he just cross that she'd climbed the tree?

She went back to the swing and pondered on the significance of these tenants for whom Aunt Sarah had to cook, and who never came downstairs to do their own shopping, and for whom the postman never called, and who looked out from behind bars like lunatics. She had considered telling Thomas about the hooded figure who had shown her the way into the tree, and how it was that she knew one of the tenants had red hair – and how she had briefly wondered if the new tenant had been abducted – but she decided not to. She had obviously irritated him enough for the time being.

After school the next day George was swinging on the gate. Lucy didn't look at him. He dropped his hand down. She reached hers up and took a scrap of paper from between his thumb and finger.

“Thanks,” she muttered. “You'll get your reward in due course,” and walked straight past without looking back.

When she arrived home she tucked the bit of paper between the pages of her homework book. She didn't dare read it straight away in case Aunt Sarah came suddenly to look over her shoulder. There was no supper that night because they were supposed to be fasting to celebrate the discovery of the first Holy Envoy as a baby in his wooden box sixteen hundred years ago. The evening seemed very long. Lucy wandered round the garden for a while. There was no sign of Thomas. He was probably still at the hospital. She went back to the kitchen and sat down to do her homework, but it was difficult to concentrate. Her mind was on George's note. Why on earth hadn't she stopped by the pond on the way home from school and hidden in the bushes to read it? Perhaps Aunt Sarah wouldn't notice if she slipped out again. She shuffled her books around and felt for the bit of paper, but withdrew her hand quickly.

Aunt Sarah was always irritable on a fasting night – though you'd have thought she'd be happy not to have to cook. “What's the matter with you tonight?” she snapped. “You're as restless as a box of wriggling eels. Just get on with your work, and then you can help Paul with his reading.”

When she had finished her homework Lucy sat down with Paul at the table, and they practised his letters.

“A is for apple,” she said, drawing an A and a picture of an apple.

“I know that,” said Paul. He opened his mouth wide. “Apple. I'm hungry.”

“B is for boy.” She drew a picture of a round little boy with curly hair.

“I can spell boy,” said Paul. “I can spell Paul.”

“C is for cat.”

“I know all that already.” Paul grabbed the pencil and drew a picture of a boy with an apple standing next to a cat.

“You draw much better than I do,” said Lucy admiringly. “I'll read you a story instead.” She fetched her book of fairy tales from her bedroom and they sat together on Aunt Sarah's chair.

“Once upon a time…” began Lucy.

“I can read that,” said Paul. “Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess.” Lucy couldn't help smiling to herself. It was hard to tell how much Paul could genuinely read and how much he knew by heart.

The evening dragged by. When Aunt Sarah took Paul to bed Lucy gave up and said she was going too.

“You're very early,” said Sarah.

“I just feel a bit more tired than usual.”

“Well you won't sleep while it's so light, but it's up to you.”

Sarah had her hands in the sink, and a delicious smell emerged from the oven.

Lucy's mouth watered. “Are you cooking for tomorrow, Aunt Sarah?” she asked.

“No, it's for tonight, Miss Nosy Parker. The father's just had a message direct from the Magnifico saying he and the tenant are exempt from fasting for some reason.” Aunt Sarah's nose wrinkled. Did she actually mutter, “I don't think!” under her breath?

No of course not. Lucy must've heard wrong. “Can I help you with anything before I go?” she asked.

“No. You go. I can manage better on my own, but thank you.”

Aunt Sarah turned and a smile flickered over her stern face. Lucy noticed that her legs were swollen, and thought how tired she looked.

Lucy washed, cleaned her teeth, and laid out her school clothes ready for the morning. The curtains let in some light, but she opened them a bit further so as to read clearly. Rosy pink rays from the sunset fell across her room. She climbed into bed and sat with her homework book open in case Sarah came in. Peering down at George's rather imperfect writing she managed to decipher his instructions:

To retreev key from other side of lock – First, push large sheet of niwspaper or carbord under door keeping just enouff back to get hold of it on your side of door. Second, poke wire or thin rod such as niting needle into keyhole and jigle it about till key falls out other side and lands (you hope) on niwspaper or carbord. Third, pull niwspaper or carbord towards you and key will apere on your side of door
.

Of course! That was brilliant, thought Lucy. What a clever man George's father was. He was so, so lucky to have a father like that, full of useful information. She tried to picture the process of getting at the key to the lobby exactly as the instructions stated. If only she could be sure that it didn't fall too far away, it should be quite straightforward.

Her mind was too alive for her to sleep. She got up and went back to the kitchen. Aunt Sarah was still rinsing out clothes by hand in the deep butler's sink.

“You were right, Aunt Sarah. It's too light to sleep.”

“Put the kettle on then, and make us a cup of tea. I've nearly finished these.” She gave them a final wring, and pulled them out onto the draining board. “I'll just hang them out. We'll each have a biscuit, fast or no fast, but you'll have to clean your teeth again.”