Johnny Swanson (21 page)

‘It’s no good,’ said Hutch. ‘Johnny, there’s nothing we can do to get through to those people. They’ve made their decision. As far as they’re concerned, your mother’s guilty, and anything you or I say is just made up to try to get her off. He wouldn’t even give me time to tell him that we’d found Mrs Langford.’

‘So what can we do now?’ said Johnny. ‘Do you think we should go to Craig-y-Nos ourselves and find out what’s going on?’

‘I’d like to, Johnny. Believe me, I would. But I can’t leave the shop.’

‘Surely it wouldn’t matter if you closed – just for a day or so?’

‘The shop would be all right,’ said Hutch. ‘To be honest, it’s costing me money to open since all this fuss. It’s the post office I’m worried about. I have a legal duty to run it. People need the service. I can’t just shut it down.’

‘But what would happen if you were ill?’

‘I’d have to contact Head Office, and they would send a substitute postmaster. But they wouldn’t like it. And if they found out afterwards that I hadn’t been ill at all, I’d probably lose my job. I’d never be able to be a public servant again.’

‘But they needn’t find out.’

‘Not if we fail, Johnny. But what if we succeed? If we can solve the murder, your mother will be let out, and there will be lots of publicity. Questions will be asked. My lie would be exposed.’

Johnny was fired up by the thought that they might succeed, and that with Mrs Langford’s help Winnie might be freed. But he could see Hutch’s point.

‘I’ll go by myself,’ he said.

‘Are you serious?’ said Hutch.

‘Of course I am. My mother and Mrs Langford are
both in danger. It looks as if I’m the only one who can help them. I really have to go.’

Hutch was thoughtful. ‘I’m not sure I should let you. I promised your mother I would keep you safe.’

‘Hutch, I’m sorry,’ said Johnny defiantly. ‘I know I should do what you say, but if you don’t let me, I’ll just go anyway. There’s no way you can stop me. I’ve got enough money to buy a ticket. If you help me, I might at least get on the right train.’

Hutch gave in eventually, and looked up the route and train times in a large book he kept under the counter in the post office. He worked out that if Johnny started early enough, it was just about possible to get to Craig-y-Nos and back in one day. He made Johnny a packed lunch for the journey, and wrote a list of the stations where he would have to change trains.

‘If you have any problems, ask a lady,’ he said, ‘or the guard or the ticket collector. Don’t stick your head out of the window – you might get it knocked off. And don’t use the lavatory while the train is in a station – it’s not allowed.’ He asked for the list back and scribbled something new on the bottom. ‘It’s the phone number here, in case you hit trouble.
You’ll have to ask the operator to put you through.’

‘I know how to work the phone,’ said Johnny wearily. ‘I sometimes went to the telephone box by the Town Hall to send in adverts. It meant I could use papers all over the country.’

‘But how did you pay them?’

‘Oh, I sent postal orders. Sometimes I could put two or three adverts on one bill. The
Yorkshire Post
even gave Auntie Ada an account.’

Hutch shook his head. ‘So much knowledge for one so young,’ he said.

Johnny didn’t dare tell him that he’d never been on a train in his life.

J
ohnny loved the railway. He often watched from the footbridge over Stambleton station as snorting steam engines powered through on their way from places like Birmingham, Rugby and Crewe to all parts of the country. Even the little local trains that puffed to a stop at Stambleton were exciting.

On board for the first time, Johnny rocked with the rhythm as the wheels bumped over the joints in the track. He stared out at the unfamiliar perspective on the town he knew so well, and then, only minutes later, on a rural landscape he had never seen before. He adored the smell of the sooty steam that blew in through the little sliding window at the top of the compartment. It mingled with the aroma of cigarettes and pipe-smoke clinging to the itchy upholstery, which left patterns on the backs of his legs. Hutch had put some comics in his bag, but Johnny didn’t want to read. There was too much to see. And anyway, he was worried in case he missed the two
connections he would have to make before arriving at Penwyllt, where a station had been built at Adelina Patti’s own expense especially to serve Craig-y-Nos. Johnny thought how much Dr Langford would have loved those place names, heavy with consonants and mystery.

His last change involved a cold wait for the local service to Penwyllt. There was a refreshment room at the other end of the platform. Johnny wondered whether they would let him sit inside to keep warm. He had a shilling in his pocket, but Hutch had given it to him for use in emergencies only, and he didn’t want to be forced to spend some of it on a cup of tea. He decided to go in, sit down, and see if he got thrown out. It would be worth the embarrassment to have the chance to get the feeling back in his feet and fingers again. But as he pushed open the door, letting out a blast of steamy brightness, he caught sight of a group of women surrounded by baskets and parcels, chatting and laughing together. They were wearing uniforms with broad aprons and large white hats. Johnny guessed they must be nurses from the Craig-y-Nos sanatorium, returning after a day out at the shops.

Johnny had brought the ‘J. W. Morgan’ envelope with him so that if he were stopped by anyone at the
sanatorium he could say that he had come to visit her, and at the very least buy himself some time. But what if the nurses talked to him now? What if they asked him who he was and where he was going? What if they made a fuss of him so that he didn’t get a chance to look round the sanatorium secretly, to try to find out what was going on there? Or, worse still, what if they didn’t believe him, and sent him back to Stambleton when he was so close to Craig-y-Nos? He decided to stay out of the nurses’ way for as long as he could. Reluctantly he gently let the door close again, and walked up and down the platform, trying to keep warm.

A porter cleared his throat and spat onto the rails.
Haemoptysis
, thought Johnny, remembering Dr Langford again. In the cold, his excitement was waning, and the sight of the nurses and the porter’s sputum had reminded him why the sanatorium existed. It wasn’t just Mrs Langford’s prison. Craig-y-Nos Castle must be full of people with a deadly disease. For the first time on this adventure Johnny was frightened. Until now he hadn’t let himself admit that if he went to Craig-y-Nos he might catch TB. He might die. It was stupid to put himself in contact with all those germs.

Now he wanted to go home. After all the bravado and exhilaration that had buoyed him up through the journey so far, Johnny was at last struck by the madness of this whole adventure. He was only a boy. He was in unfamiliar territory, and he didn’t really know what he was looking for. He might meet a murderer: that Welshman on the phone had already threatened him. Why had he ever come up with the idea of trying to investigate Craig-y-Nos on his own? Hutch should never have allowed him to set off in the first place. You could tell that he wasn’t used to looking after children. His mother would never have let him go.

His mother. That was why he was doing it. Johnny might be afraid; he might long to go back to Stambleton; but he knew that if he did, someone else could die. Winnie was in real danger. He was facing a risk – but her fate looked certain. Johnny imagined what would happen if he failed to find Mrs Langford. Although he was staring at columns of figures on the railway timetable, all he could see was the hangman putting a noose round his mother’s neck. He couldn’t get the image out of his mind. He knew he had to carry on.

When the little train came in, Johnny watched to see which carriage the nurses chose and then got into
the other one. He was all alone. As the train rattled along, the scenery grew ever greener and more dramatic, with waterfalls gushing down rocky hills. Occasionally Johnny caught a glimpse of a mighty building nestling halfway up the valley. Part of it was made of sparkling glass, the rest of solid brown-grey stone. It had two towers: one tall and pointed with big white clock-faces on every side, and a stout square one with battlements on top, like a castle in a history book. Although it was early afternoon, the winter light was already fading, and the building looked sinister in the gloom. It must be Craig-y-Nos.

P
enwyllt station was high on a windswept hill. There was no sign of the castle now, nor of any people apart from the station master and the group of nurses who had just got off the train. A cart was waiting to take them to Craig-y-Nos. Johnny buttoned up his coat, pulled down the big woolly hat that Hutch had insisted on lending him to keep warm, and followed the cart down the hill. The road twisted in huge loops, and Johnny managed to keep up by running in a straight line, taking short cuts through the bushes, ducking down so that he wouldn’t be seen. He stayed outside the gates of the castle, watching as the cart turned into a courtyard and drew to a halt alongside a fountain in the shape of a golden bird. The driver helped the nurses climb down, and they ran inside, too busy with their bags and their gossip to notice a little boy in the shadows.

Close up, the castle looked friendlier than it had from a distance. As well as the two big towers there
were smaller turrets, sloping roofs, and all sorts of outbuildings joined together with walls and arches. The windows were wide, not at all like the arrow-slits Johnny had expected (and even hoped for). They made the place look more like a country house than a fortress. Through the glass, Johnny could see that the rooms had electric lights, and warm fires in the grates. He walked round the outside and looked out across the valley. At the back of the castle the ground fell away steeply, and Johnny could hear rushing water down below. There must be a river at the bottom. It was almost dark now. Nurses were wheeling beds and chairs inside from the gardens. Even in early January they believed in exposing their patients to fresh air whenever they could. The beds seemed rather short. The chairs were small. All at once Johnny realized that Craig-y-Nos was a children’s hospital. He was going to find it easier to blend in than he had expected.

Nevertheless, he was careful. He crouched in a corner of the courtyard, waiting for the nurses’ chatter to die away before risking going inside. He saw a child shuffling along in the shadow of the wall. Like him, she was trying not to be seen, but his eyes were drawn towards her at once because of her shoes. They
were far too big for her and the laces were undone, so she couldn’t help making a clattering, dragging noise as she crossed the stone path to a back door. She wore a heavy coat over her pyjamas. That was the wrong size too. Its sleeves hung down past her hands, and the pockets were bulging. Johnny guessed that she’d been up to no good – that she’d borrowed someone else’s clothes to sneak outside from one of the wards, and wouldn’t want to be caught as she found her way back in. He followed several paces behind her, hoping that she would lead the way through parts of the building where no one would spot him either.

He tracked her from one corridor to another, past dormitories and treatment rooms, a laboratory, workshops and a kitchen. Through half-open doors he caught glimpses of nurses busying about their work, and he knew that sooner or later he was bound to be discovered, but he wanted to see as much of the hospital as he could before then, if only so that he could plan his route to make a quick getaway if he had to.

A sudden cry and a crash behind him made him instinctively spin round. Someone had dropped some plates. There was uproar in the kitchen, but the corridor was empty. He was safe. He hadn’t been seen.
He turned back again. The girl had been startled by the smash as well, and she too had looked in the direction of the noise. Now she was staring at Johnny through her round glasses.

‘Who are you?’ she asked.

Johnny reached into his pocket for the J. W. Morgan envelope, ready with his explanation.

The girl interrupted: ‘I’ve seen you before somewhere …’

As she spoke, Johnny recognized her too. ‘Olwen?’ he asked. ‘What are you doing here? I’m Johnny. Johnny Swanson. You came to my school in Stambleton. I tried to find you …’

Olwen’s words came out in a rush of excited surprise. ‘You were nice to me there. You were the only one. Have you seen my family? Are they here too? I’ve been so worried. They don’t tell us anything in this place, you know. We might as well be in prison. We’re not allowed letters or anything like that. I’ve been hoping for so long that Mam and Dad would come to get me. Oh, what a relief that you’re here now. There’s nothing wrong with me, you know. My uncle should never have put me in here.’

Johnny was panicking. It was clear that Olwen didn’t know that her parents and sister were dead;
even if she’d imagined the worst, she was frantically clinging to the idea that all was well. He knew he would have to tell her what had happened, but he couldn’t find a way to begin. He tried first to explain that he hadn’t come to Craig-y-Nos for her.

‘I didn’t even know you were here,’ he said. ‘I’m looking for someone else. But, Olwen, I have got some news.’

‘About my family? You know how they are?’

‘Yes,’ he said, realizing instantly that he had accidentally given her hope.

‘Are they coming for me? Have they sent you with a message?’

He stuttered something unintelligible, and was saved by the sound of footsteps. Olwen grabbed his arm and tugged him down some stone stairs. ‘In here,’ she whispered urgently, opening the door to a dark windowless room that smelled of antiseptic and damp. It was full of boxes, like Hutch’s stockroom. Dismantled beds and bits and pieces of medical equipment were propped against the walls.

‘No one will find us,’ she said. ‘They’re all too scared to come in. Even some of the nurses think there’s a ghost down here.’ Olwen was giggling. ‘They say it’s where Madame Patti was laid to rest after she
died.’ She put on a dramatic voice: ‘They embalmed the body on this very table.’