magnolia-buildings

if she had seen us talk to them,1 and that's how I got to know him,"2 she nodded at her husband.

Grandpapa chuckled. "Your Grandma was a pretty maid. I sang in the choir in those days and I used to see all the maid-servants coming into church. Plain black hats the girls had to wear, not a flower in them. Still I noticed your Grandma, and we had a talk or two3 in the garden. If old Green, the head gardener, had seen us, I'd have got it hot."4 The old man chuckled again.

"Well," he went on, "neither old Green nor the head nurse could forbid the fair to come to the town, and as it was Gertie's day off, I met her there."

Grandma interrupted him. "Came up to me as bold as brass,8 and asked me to go for a ride on the horses. The very idea!"6

"And did you?" Ally asked.

"She did, but that was later," said Grandpa. "That was after we saw the walking stick. I said to her, 'Now, my maid...' "

"Enough," put in Grandma quickly, but her face grew quite pink.

"Anyway, I bought her the walking stick, though she told me not to."

"Well, how was I7 to carry it home? The head nurse would have asked where I got the thing !"

"So we went to a fortune teller."

"Now, Bert, that's really quite enough," said Grandma. "And do you know what that fortune teller said?" went on Grandpa with a grin, paying no attention to Grandma's words. "Now, the fortune teller, a real gipsy she was, with gold rings in her ears, she says to your Grandma: 'Well, my maid, you've got a young man that rides a high horse.'8

And that was how I first learnt that your Grandma was keeping company1 with our groom."

"I never kept company with him," Grandma protested. "A silly young chap, and thought a lot of himself,"2 said her Grandpa. "And then," he continued, "the gipsy said to Gertie, smiling 'Yes, my maid, you've got a young man that rides a high horse, but you'll never marry him. The man you'll marry will hit you with a big stick.' 'No, he won't,' cried your Grandma, 'no man will ever beat me.' 'Won't he?' I said, and with that I took up the glass walking-stick that she had forgotten about, and hit her! We all burst out laughing.3 So when the old gardener died that spring, I got his cottage and we got married and lived there till we moved here."

On the way home in the bus, Mum asked, "Enjoyed your day?"

"Oh, yes," cried Ally. "You know, Mum, I wish I'd lived in Grandma's time. It sounds so romantic, not even to be allowed to meet your true love and all."4

"It was hard work and low pay,"said Mum. "But there's something I've got to tell you, Glory. I waited till I saw Grandma, but you'll have to know sooner or later I'm going to have an operation next month, so you and Dad'll have to manage somehow. I kept putting it off5 and putting it off, but now the doctor has booked me a bed at the hospital."

"Oh, Mum!" cried Ally, feeling that the world around her had suddenly become sad and gloomy. "How long will you be away?"

"For about a month. Still, I know you'll do your best,8 and Dad'll help."

"You're going to be all right, aren't you, Mum?" Ally asked in horror, suddenly realizing the danger.

"Of course I am. It's nothing serious. I'll be as right as rain,"7 cried Mum, and she gave her old, cheerful laugh.

Chapter IX

VAL'S PERFECT CRIME1

"I've just got to have a bike," said Val to himself during the first week of the Easter holidays. "If I had a bike, I could get out of here and away from Shorty's gang and go fishing and exploring, and see the world."

But the question was, how to get the money? Now that Mum was not working there was less money at home than usual. There had been no pocket money at all lately.

Val thought hard2 about how he could make money. First he tried to get a job with the newsvendors, but they all had boys. Then he went to see Mr Copley at the

stationer's.3 But everyone knew Val's reputation. "You're a bad boy," said old Mr Copley, looking at him

over the top of his spectacles. "Everyone says so. Always fighting."

"I don't want to fight," muttered Val, standing sideways to hide a black eye. 4

"Then why do you do it?" asked the old man. "Look at your coat. It's dirty. And not a button on it. I want a tidy boy."

Val looked at his coat. It was a sad sight. Mum had already given up mending his clothes for him. "It's a waste of my time," she said. "You ought to walk about without any clothes, just painted blue, like the savages."

"If the boy you've got now goes, will you take me on then?" asked Val.

"No. I want a steady boy," said old Copley and turned away.

Val could not explain that he wanted to be steady, that he hated fighting. No one would have believed him. Then, he was proud, too proud to make excuses for himself.5 So

he just wiped his nose with the back of his hand and so added another black spot to his face. Dirt just grew on Val.

Next he tried some other shops and the laundry. "Don't you want a Saturday boy?"1 he asked. "I'll come

in the evenings too."

But they all said they had boys and the laundry woman2 cried, "Go home and wash your face before you go asking for a job."

Val hadn't thought of that, so he stood there quite puzzled.

The woman giggled. "Tell your Mum to put you in the next bag of washing."

So they were laughing at him! That was too much. Val could feel tears coming to his eyes, so he ran away, with the giggling of the laundry girls still in his ears.

In despair he went back to the flat and really washed his face, but as he didn't think of washing his ears or his neck, he looked like a Negro who had put on a pink mask. Then he went to call on Mrs Crawley and Mrs Doherty and some of the other neighbours and asked them all to give him some work; but everyone answered, "Run along, Val, and don't bother me. Last time you did my shopping you broke the eggs, and forgot the bread."

"It was not my fault about the eggs," said Val. "That was Thompson. He tripped me and everything fell out of the basket."

But all the housewives were like Mr Copley. They wanted a steady boy.

At last he gave up his search for work, and went out into the yard. "It's enough to drive you to crime," he said to himself. "It isn't as if3 I didn't want to earn the money honestly." He went across the Common, and down the High Street, pressing the buttons "B"4 in every telephone booth he passed; but someone else had thought of that. He pinched an apple off a stall, not because he was hungry, but as a revenge on a society that did not want him. He went and looked at the lovely, shining new bicycles in the shop windows. Val stood there imagining himself riding down

hills, rushing along to the sea. He asked himself why other boys had bikes and he didn't. And he said to himself, "It's not fair."

He began to hate everybody and to feel that the whole world was against him. He hated a society that refused to let him even work for a bicycle. Soon he came to the Supermarket where there was a great crowd of people doing their shopping.

"I could1 bring little Len here and make him pinch some-

Then he remembered that Len was now eight, and so he was responsible for his own actions. Much as Val hated the world3 he did not want to get his little brother in trouble with the police.

While all this was going through his head, he was watching a fat lady in a nylon fur coat. She had bought some apples and was going to put them into her basket. For a moment she had put her purse on the counter. Without thinking, but acting on impulse,4 Val picked up the purse, pocketed it, and rushed off. It was done in a second and he was out of sight before the woman had noticed anything.

So this is what filching had led to! Val had thought nothing of pinching6 an apple, or a cake, and now here he was sfealing money. Walking quickly, but not really running, he slipped into a narrow street near the High Street. The purse was burning in his pocket. He was so frightened at what he had done that his mouth was dry and he could hardly breathe.

As soon as he got to the flat, he locked himself in the lavatory so as to examine the purse in peace. With trembling fingers he opened the purse and found eight pounds in notes and about eight shillings in silver. Enough money to buy a second-hand bicycle!

He didn't feel any remorse now that6 he was safe at home.

The lady at the counter had not seen him. No one else had noticed him, with all that crowd. He had really committed the perfect crime!

But while he stood there looking at the money, he realized that there were still difficulties. He could not go out and buy a bike, for his parents would at once wonder where he had got the money.

What a fool he was! Why hadn't he thought of that before? He left the lavatory, went into his room, and sat down on the bed. He had been a thief and all to no purpose.1 Then suddenly he saw what he must do. He would have to pretend2 that he had got a job. This would mean that he would have to disappear every Saturday and on most evenings. No one in the family would have the time or energy to watch where he went.

It was a nuisance that he wouldn't be able to get the bike at once, because he couldn't pretend to earn more than ten or twelve shillings a week. So first of all he would have to find a safe place to hide the purse and the money, and that would be difficult, for the flat was so small and so many people lived in it that it had no secret corners. Val thought of the cellar in the deserted house, but it was too far from home and then the other boys might find his treasure there. But it wouldn't be safe to walk about with eight pounds in his pocket. For the first time Val discovered that it wasn't so simple to hide one's riches. At last he decided to put the purse under his mattress. But before he did so, he took out of the purse the odd eight shillings, because it would be so nice to buy sweets or cigarettes or even go to the pictures after all these weeks without any pocket money.

As soon as Val had money in his pocket, he wished to show off, to make Shorty's lot understand that he was rich, a chap who really did things3 and who wasn't afraid of the police. But it was rather difficult to think of a way to do it.4

As he walked across the yard, he saw Shorty and Nap smoking by the bicycle sheds. They couldn't attack Val, for Sprot and some women were in the yard too. So Val safely passed

rettes, but he, Val, would show them. He entered the kiosk and said, "Dad wants

two cigars, please." The cigars cost about a shilling each, but two shillings was well spent1 if he could show off to Shorty's gang. Val's father sometimes bought a cigar or two, so the man in the kiosk gave them to Val without any question.

When Val got to the Common he started to light his cigar. He had smoked some cigarette-ends before, but this cigar was much stronger. Still, Val was ready to do anything to make an impression on Shorty and Nap.

With the cigar in his mouth Val walked across the yard. The cigar smelt so strong that its blue smoke reached Nap and Shorty. Val did not want to spoil the effect, so he marched right across the yard and up the stairs towards his flat. But as he came to the top flight he suddenly felt so strange and dizzy that he had to sit down on a stair, and the half-smoked cigar fell from his hand on to the floor.

Mum found him there as she went out to do her shopping. He was sitting with his head against the wall, his eyes were closed and the cigar lay at his feet.

"Why, Val, what on earth?"

He opened his eyes and tried to stand up, but his face was green beneath the dirt.

Then Mum saw the cigar and asked, "Where did you get that thing?"

"Someone gave it me." Though he felt so bad, Val could still think.

"Get on!"1 Mum knew Val well enough to recognize a lie. She bent quickly to search his pockets. Her fingers touched the silver coins, and she cried, "Where did you get that from?"

There was a pause before Val answered, "I earned it." "Oh, I see," said Mum. "You won't cheat me, my lord.

You'll come right back to the flat with me. I've got one or two things to ask you."

In the living-room, Mum faced Val. "Have you been filching?"

"No."

"You have, and don't you lie to me." She came nearer to Val; her usually smiling face was pale and worried. "Where did you get the money, Val? Give it here. I know Dad and I didn't give you any, so you can't have got it honestly.2 When I tell your Dad, he will give you a good thrashing."3

"Mum! Oh, no!" Val put the armchair between himself and Mum, for in spite of her good temper she could be really angry.

"Tell me the truth!" she cried. "And give me that money. Where did you get it?"

Very slowly and unwillingly Val took the money out of his pocket coin by coin.4 Three shillings, four. He hoped to keep at least two shillings for himself, but Mum went on waiting until he had given her all. When she had got it, Mum went on with her questioning.

"Where did you get it?" "I — I found it." "Where?"

Val felt too bad to think of a good story,5 so he told the truth. "In the Supermarket."

"How did you find it?" "It was on a stall."

All the time Val had been trying to get nearer and nearer to the door. He hoped to escape if he could distract Mum's attention just for. one second. But she was too quick for him.1 She rushed to the door herself and caught him by the collar.

"Now, I'll have the truth out of you,2 Val Berners, even if I have to beai it out of you. Whose money is that?"

Val blushed. "I don't know. Someone dropped a purse." "That's another lie," said Mum. "Where's the purse

"And that's another lie," said Mum, who was now very angry indeed. It was terrible to find out that her son was a thief. She shook him and cried, "You give me that purse at once!"

Val fought and struggled to get away from her, but Mum held him fast. "I won't, I can't," he sobbed, for he couldn't

slapped him hard across the cheek.3 "Your Grandpa and Grandma would die of shame if they knew what you'd done. Dad and me4 have brought you up honest. We never cheated anyone in our lives, and now look at you! Dirty, low cheat!" Mum suddenly felt weak, her anger passed,

he had never seen Mum cry before. She had never before slapped his face. Now she had called him a dirty, mean little thief and a cheat, and his pride was wounded. He had never thought of himself as a thief. He thought it was one of his adventures. Even this taking of the purse was

not stealing, but a revenge on people that would not1 let him earn money. But Mum had said he was a shame to the family. She had called him a thief.

"How could you do it, Val?" Mum was sobbing. "How could you? I brought you up decent. I've done everything I could to give you clothes and proper food. I got up early and went to work, even when I was ill. And now look what you've done! It's all to no purpose." And she sobbed more bitterly than ever.2 She remembered her sleepless nights when Val was a baby, her savings spent on his first little trousers, his toys, his school shoes, his summer holiday. Yes, all she had done for him was to no purpose if he were to grow up a thief.0

By this time the tears were running down Val's cheeks too, leaving white stripes on his dirty face. He turned away from his mother to hide his trembling mouth. He couldn't

sobbed Mum. "You know that, Val. But to steal for it — oh!"

laughed at me — they said — they said..." and he began to sob too.

By and by4 they both got calmer.

"I was so proud of you, Val," said Mum in a sad voice. "You don't know.5 And so was Dad. I ought to have made you go6 to Sunday school, but I'm always so tired. Val, we've got to take that purse back."

Val seized her arm. "No, Mum. They'll arrest me. No, we can't take it back."

"We must." She got up and wiped her eyes. "We'll take it to the police and say you picked it up in the Supermarket — on the floor. We'll say that. Go and wash your face, Val. You're coming with me."