The Runaways (22 page)

‘It's the father and mother of all lies,' said Mrs Lakey.

‘I think, it's a lie, too,' the Major agreed. ‘But the point is, if Johnny is to be proved innocent, it can never happen while he's on the run. We've got to tell the police about him. Then we can have the case re-opened. We can get at the truth and have him cleared. He's worked hard and honestly for you, Angela. He paid back what he borrowed from me – except the anorak and the old bike – and what do they matter? He's shown resource and initiative in looking after himself and –'

‘I think, dear,' said Mrs Collingwood, ‘that we all understand and agree with you. But it does seem hard to go –'

‘Snivelling to the police,' said Mrs Lakey. ‘ It's like deliberately putting a good dog down before its time. But, there's some sense in what the Major says. How can the law do anything for the Boy unless the law has got the Boy?'

Miss Milly said, ‘You've known all this for a long time, Jelly. If you think he ought to be given up, why didn't you do it ages ago?'

‘Because, Milly, I don't jump fences until I come to 'em. And this fence is now right under the horse's nose.' She looked hard at Major Collingwood. ‘You believe in the Boy's innocence?'

‘Absolutely. I made a few inquiries about this Pickering family. They haven't a good reputation. I think, they were lying to protect their son.'

‘And you think you can clear things for the Boy?'

The Major said importantly, ‘Yes. I have friends in the police in Bristol. They'll listen to me. All we have to do is tell the police where Johnny is and then I'll lay a hundred to one we can clear things up.'

‘I don't like it,' said Miss Milly. ‘You mean let them know
right away?
Think of poor Johnny at home now having his supper after a hard day's work and the police walking in and taking him to spend a night in a cell … Oh, no!'

The Major pondered this, then he said deliberately, ‘You've a soft heart, Milly – but it's got to be done.'

Miss Milly stood up. ‘You really want to ring up the police now?'

‘Yes, Milly,' said the Major.

‘Then,' said Miss Milly firmly, ‘ don't expect me to sit down afterwards and take dinner in your house. How could I?' She turned to her sister. ‘Jelly, I'm going home. If anyone thinks I could take a bite of food knowing all the time that –'

‘Milly,' said Mrs Lakey, ‘ ease back in the saddle a bit.' She turned to the Major, and went on, ‘The Boy has been free for months. Twelve hours' delay won't do any harm, and he's not going to run away because he knows nothing of all this –'

‘And,' interrupted Mrs Collingwood, ‘I'm not having my dinner party ruined. We've got smoked salmon and then a beautiful piece of lamb, and a sweet it's taken me all afternoon to make. Milly and Angela are staying. You can tell the police first thing in the morning.'

The Major looked at each woman in turn. After a few moments he shrugged his shoulders. ‘Well, I suppose it won't make any difference. All right. I'll telephone them first thing in the morning.'

‘And glad I am to hear it,' said Mrs Lakey, ‘for if Milly had gone, then so would I – and there's nothing I like better than smoked salmon and a nice piece of lamb.'

‘Poor Johnny,' said Miss Milly. She sat down and took a sip of her marsala. ‘Never in my life will I believe that he ever robbed an old lady.'

‘We'll prove that he didn't,' said the Major. ‘But until it can be done, he's got to be held in custody by the proper authorities. That's the law.'

‘The law,' said Miss Milly vigorously, ‘is an ass!'

‘Agreed, Milly,' said her sister.

At that moment Mrs Bagnall, who helped Mrs Collingwood when she gave a dinner party, appeared at the front door and said, ‘Dinner is served, madam.'

While Mrs Collingwood's dinner party was in progress, Smiler was walking back down the valley with Afra and Rico towards their den. The light was fast going from the western sky. The jackdaws were returning to their roosts in the church tower at Imber. Fox and badger were beginning their night prowls. Moths blundered through the warm, still air.

When they reached the entrance to the cave, Smiler knelt down and with either hand rubbed the rough-pelted necks of Afra and Rico. Afra purred and nuzzled her head against Smiler's bent knee. Rico turned and closed his jaws gently over Smiler's hand. He knew now just how hard he could hold without harming Smiler. In the pale light the golden eyes of the two animals shone softly, their black face-markings giving them a faint, laughing look.

Smiler was aware of a lump in his throat. Samuel M., he was telling himself, tomorrow night you'll be putting them away in the cave for the last time. Sunday morning, first thing, you'll be up and away with them. They won't see this old plain again, and neither will you. No, Samuel M., you won't see Danebury again, nor Joe, nor a lot of people and places you like … Not for ages and ages, anyway … Not until your old Dad comes back and can clear things up.

He stood up, tossed some meat into the cave and watched the cubs enter. Then he boarded up the entrance securely and began to make his way home.

When he reached Joe's cottage, it was nearly eleven o'clock. Joe was in the kitchen having a last glass of cider before going to bed. He offered Smiler some, but Smiler had a glass of milk instead.

‘Been up top again then, Johnny?' asked Joe.

‘For a bit.'

Joe gave him a long look and said, ‘ Milk ain't no good for what you got by the look of your face. For a bad case of the glooms there's nothin' like cider. Anything special happened?'

‘No, I'm just tired, Joe,' said Smiler.

‘It's honest labour what does that. Been trying to avoid it all me life – without success. What about a bit of a singsong on the pianer then?'

‘No, thanks, Joe. I'm for bed.' Smiler began to move.

Joe said, ‘Sure there's nothin' wrong? Nothin' that you'd care to tell me about?'

‘No, really, Joe. I'm all right.'

‘All right then, me old cock,' said Joe. ‘ Up you go then, and get your head tucked under your wing.'

So Smiler went to bed, and not long afterwards Joe did the same. The cubs up on the plain were already asleep. Miss Milly and Mrs Lakey were driving home from the Collingwoods' dinner party. The Major and his wife were together in their sitting-room. The Major was having a small glass of brandy and looked very thoughtful.

After a moment, he said, ‘ I don't suppose they would do it – but perhaps it would have been better if I'd made them promise not to.'

‘Promise what, dear?' asked his wife.

‘Promise not to warn this Samuel Miles that the police will be coming for him early tomorrow morning.'

‘Really!' exclaimed Mrs Collingwood. ‘I'm glad you didn't do any such thing! You would have lost two very good friends – and made me very angry. They wouldn't dream of such a thing!'

The Major said, ‘ They're both very fond of him.' He smiled suddenly. ‘And they're women – you never know with women. Not logical. Not when their emotions are roused.'

‘I think,' said Mrs Collingwood distantly, ‘that you'd better leave the brandy and go to bed. You must be over-tired.'

Yet, in a way that he would never have been able to guess, the Major was quite right about women. With some it is the heart and not the head that rules.

At four o'clock the next morning Smiler woke up. It was still some way off daybreak. He lay in bed, heavy-eyed.

As he did so there was a sudden sharp splatter of gravel against his window pane. Smiler sat up, puzzled. The noise of gravel came again and he realized that it must have been such a noise in the first place which had wakened him.

He got out of bed and crossed to the window and looked down. On the narrow path below he could make out a greyish form. Smiler opened the window.

‘Johnny?' A pale face was turned up to him from below.

‘Who's that?' he asked.

‘Keep your voice down. It's me, Pat,' came the answer in a whisper.

‘What on earth are you doing here?'

‘Come to warn you, Johnny. Get dressed and come on down and I'll tell you. Hurry, I got to cycle back home afore they wakes and finds I've been out.'

‘But I don't understand.'

‘Course you don't, stupid, until you come down and I can tell you,' said Pat. ‘Hurry now.'

Still puzzled, Smiler dressed in a hurry and went quietly downstairs so as not to wake Joe. Pat Bagnall, in jeans and a thick jumper, was waiting for him in front of the house. She came up to him quickly and took his arm.

‘Now, you listen to me, Johnny, and don't interrupt 'cos I've got a lot to say, and I've got to say it fast so's I can get back and not get into trouble.'

Then she told him about the Collingwoods' dinner party and how her mother always on such occasions went down to help. Her mother, while taking things into the dining-room, had overheard the conversation about Samuel Miles, alias Johnny Pickering, through the open windows. When her mother had got back that night she had told her husband all about it, full of the gossip and excitement. Pat – who wasn't supposed to hear – had heard everything, too, because she had been up in her bedroom reading before sleep.

‘When it's all quiet-like you can hear every word they say down below. So that's why I'm here. I had to wait till late to come out – and I got to get back fast before Dad starts moving.'

‘Crikeys!' said Smiler. ‘ What am I going to do?'

‘Don't be stupid,' whispered Pat. ‘You got to get away. You don't want to be taken up again, do you?'

‘No, of course I don't.'

‘Then you've got to move fast. Right now. Get your things and go.'

And Smiler saw that he had to do just that. The Major might wake very early and call the police.

‘It's all right,' he said. ‘I was planning to go – tomorrow. Thanks for coming to tell me. But why ever did you?'

‘What a question! Because I like you, of course. And because I don't believe that grown-ups always can do what they say they can do. I reckoned it was up to you to choose. Course, you can stay and face it out if you want to.'

‘Not likely. I'm off. Only my Dad can clear me up. He knows how to deal with Mr Pickering and that lot. Gosh, it was brave of you to come.'

‘Course it wasn't. You got money, and things like that?'

‘Yes.'

‘Then be on your way, Johnny. And Johnny –' She came closer to him.

‘Yes?'

‘When you're settled – you can write to me, if you want.'

Her face came close to Smiler's.

‘Course I will when it's safe.'

‘Promise?'

‘Promise.'

She reached forward suddenly and kissed him. Then, with a little bubble of laughter, she was gone, running across the garden grass.

Smiler watched her go, not knowing quite how he felt, but knowing that he was feeling like he had never felt before. Then he turned and went quietly back into the house. All his things were more or less packed already for his Sunday morning departure. Now, he had to go a day sooner and there was a big problem. He
had
to get the key of Joe's van. Without the van his plan was ruined. Joe had not been to the Angel that night. Joe might wake up. Well, he would have to risk that.

He went up to his bedroom and collected his things. He came out on tip-toes and put his stuff quietly on the floor of the little landing. In the darkness he moved stealthily towards the door of Joe's bedroom. He knew exactly where Joe's jacket would be hanging with the key in the pocket. The thought that Joe might wake brought a quick flush of sweat to his brow. Slowly he reached out his hand to the door knob.

At that moment the door of the bedroom opened and in the growing light from the bedroom window he was faced by the figure of Joe. Smiler jumped backwards, almost frightened out of his skin.

Joe said not a word. He just stood there. He wore an old woollen nightcap, and a long white nightshirt – but not so long that it hid the fact that he wore his socks in bed. Joe's eyes were shut tight.

Before Smiler could recover from his alarm, Joe began to speak in a far away kind of voice, a kind of religious, preaching voice.

Joe said, ‘Done it ever since a child. Doing of it now. Walks in me sleep. No cure for it. When I wakes up I don't know what I done – could be murder. Don't know what I heard – could be where a pot of gold's buried. Don't never know what I'm doing or hearing. Like I might 'ear two people talkin' under me window. Like I might know one of them's in trouble and got to get away fast and far. And for which purpose – as all the world knows – there's nought better'n a car. Say a nice little green van what the police'll find somewheres later and return. That's always assumin' that the one what wants it 'as the key –'

His hand came out and up slowly and the palm opened. In it was the van's ignition key.

‘Oh, Joe –' began Smiler, but Joe interrupted him sharply.

‘Don't never talk to anyone what walks in ' is sleep. Dangerous. Could give 'em the jumps for the rest of their mortal. Here, lad.'

The key was tossed to Smiler who caught it.

Joe stood there, immobile, but a smile slowly passed over his face. One eye opened and shut in a wink, and he said, ‘Don't ever remember anything I says or does when I walks in me sleep. Terrible affliction if you lives on a cliff. Well, God bless anyone within 'earing at this moment – and send me a postcard sometime just saying – “The old grey goose ain't dead”.'

He winked once more, with the other eye, and then turned back into the room and shut the door. With tears in his eyes and a lump in his throat, Smiler picked up his stuff and ran downstairs and out into the yard. Five minutes later he was driving towards Heytesbury on his way up to the plain. It was Saturday and too early in the morning for the Vedette hut to be manned or for any troops to be about. Smiler knew that he had a clear, two or three hours before anyone would be astir to bother him. That was more than enough.