Granddad Funny, Page 2

  Chapter Two

  Jake just couldn’t go back home right away. He didn’t want to face Granddad just yet. He walked to the wood at the back of the Wreck. It wasn’t much of a wood – a couple of dozen trees and some bushes and ferns in between, but get in the middle and you could pretend you were in a great forest. It was one of his favourite, on-your-own, places. Playing with the gang was great, but sometimes he liked to be just by himself - to wander about looking at things.

  He had a favourite seat, as far into the forest as you could go without starting to come out. It was the stump of an old oak tree, facing a real giant of a tree with a trunk so thick that his arms wouldn’t go even half way round. Quite high up there was a sort of knot in the wood where a branch must have fallen off. If you half closed your eyes and squinted through your lashes it looked just like a face. No hair, no ears, no horns, just the face part, like a mask.

  Sometimes, after he’d looked all round to see no one was watching, he would talk to the face. The gang would have thought he was completely off his rocker, but it was like having a friend you really could talk to, about things that mattered. Scrapper and Brains were O.K. but Brains was too serious and Scrapper wasn’t serious enough. Here you could say what was on your mind, without any interruptions.

  “He’s a lovely Granddad, really. We tell jokes and he’s taught me chess and he reads to me and makes me things. And he slips me some extra pocket money when Mam isn’t looking. It’s just - when I’m with the gang - he wants to join in. Really join in! Even tried leapfrog once and fell and got his nose all bloody. I mean, why didn’t he do all these things when he was a kid, then grow up. And then that thing this afternoon. I know he couldn’t help it, but it was so embarrassing.”

  Jake felt a bit rotten, saying all those things, but honestly, they were getting him down. And the others were getting fed up. He sat staring, without blinking, at the face.

  “Was he ever a kid?” Strange question . It just popped into his head. Sometimes, when he was in the wood like this, his mind seemed to work on problems in an unusual way. Jake sat still for a while, thinking, until the dampness on the seat of his pants made him get up.

  He walked slowly back through the Wreck. There’d be nobody there, he was certain. If Granddad had been around, Scrapper would have said “Hello, Mr. Finney,” to him and then would have grabbed Sally’s hand quickly and said something about getting home for tea. Brains would have remembered that he had a lot of homework to do. And Granddad would be left on his own. He seemed to be on his own a lot. What did he get up to when he was a kid, wondered Jakey. Suddenly it came to him that Granddad never said, ‘When I was your age…’ Scrapper’s Dad was saying it all the time, grumbling like mad, but funny with it. Granddad had never told him about things he’d got up to. Perhaps he’d ask him.

  When he got home Granddad was in the kitchen on his own. He was sitting at the table, resting his head on his hands and looking tired. He smiled at Jake. “Gang gone home to be fed?”

  That was his opportunity. Jake gulped and said, “Did you ever have a gang when you were a kid, Granddad?”

  “A kid?” said Granddad, sadly. “Don’t know that I ever was a kid - not in the way you are.” He said no more except, “Now why don’t you set the table for your Mam, eh. She’ll be in soon. I’ll put the kettle on.”

  Well, I didn’t get very far with that, thought Jake. He hoped he hadn’t upset his Granddad.

  When Mam came in she had a big bundle under her arm. She did all sorts of bits of work for the War Effort. Today was Clothes Swap and Buy day. Clothes children had grown out of were brought into the depot and exchanged for bigger ones. Jake had had all sorts of weird clothes thrust on him. I mean, he knew there was a war on, but the things some people dressed their kids in! He knew Mam meant well, but bright green socks and a shirt with Mickey Mouse on the pocket. He just couldn’t! Today, however, his luck was in. A decent pair of grey short trousers and a plain grey jumper not even worn at the elbows. He wondered how long it would take him to stop growing - the War would be long over by then, he hoped

  Tea was pilchards in tomato sauce sandwiches, and big rounds of bread and jam today. After tea, and until bedtime, was a favourite part of the day. Sometimes he and Granddad played chess, and Jake was getting quite good at it. Sometimes they read a book together or did a jigsaw or had guessing games. Sometimes they just sat quietly on the clipping rug in front of the fire, turned off the light, and watched the big, shiny lumps of coal, gradually turning glowing red, and fusing into fantastic shapes, with flames of red, yellow and blue swirling around them. On the walls the shadows of the flames danced slowly and gracefully. It was magic! Tonight, though, Granddad went straight upstairs, and was there for a long time.

  “He doesn’t look too well.” Mum was worried. “We must look after him, you know. When your Dad comes home on leave he wants to find his Dad fighting fit.”

  Jake wondered when that would be. He hadn’t seen his Dad in ages. “Shall I go up and see Granddad, Mam.”

  “Yes, but don’t bother him if he wants to be on his own. He does sometimes.”

  Granddad was sitting on his bed. He was looking at an old cardboard box. He didn’t say anything when Jake went in, but patted a place on the bed beside him. He gave Jake a friendly punch. “You and the gang have fun, don’t you? The Terrible Trio, eh! Not so terrible, really. Just lads having a good time.”

  Jake gave Granddad a hug. “Thank you, Granddad. Saw you talking to Ma Savage.” He glanced at the bed. “What’s in that box?

  “Memories - not a lot, but we all have them.” Granddad clutched to box to him, then seemed to come to a decision. “Want to see?”

  Jake nodded, and took the box. He felt a bit funny inside, as if this was an important moment. He took off the lid. There was a big envelope. He looked at Granddad, who nodded his head. Jake took it and looked inside. There was a birth certificate, with the name Jacob Feinstein on it, and the date, 1st April, 1885; a sketch, in pencil, of a lady with a baby in her arms; a photo of a group of soldiers - a bit old-fashioned; some medals to say he’d been in the War. Under the envelope there was quite a smart little case with a shiny medal, obviously special, and a rather grubby knitted animal - a cat, perhaps, but it was difficult to say - like the sort you give to babies - size of a fist.

  “Much travelled cat,” said Granddad. “Been to France, and to Russia. He put the lid back on the box, but not before Jake had seen what looked like an old boot at the bottom, muddy, and with the sole hanging off. But Jake didn’t take that much notice. He was staring at the sketch.

  He was good at drawing himself, but he knew this was something special. “This is really good. Did a famous artist do it, Granddad?” Jake looked at Granddad. He was smiling, but looking sad at the same time.

  “An artist - not famous.”

  “Who is the lady, Granddad?”

  “She is your great-grandmother.”

  “That means . . . ” Jake thought for a moment. “She’s your mother?”

  My mother. I never had a photograph. My father was very clever at drawing, though. That was one of his best. Isn’t she beautiful?”

  “Oh yes, and she looks so happy. Is that baby you?”

  “It is indeed.”

  “Have you got any more drawings?”

  Granddad looked sad. “Just that one. She was ill, you see. I was just a little lad when she died. Afterwards, well, life wasn’t good. My dad didn’t bother too much with anything - or anyone - anymore. I didn’t go to school much, didn’t have to go at all after you were ten in those days. We were always on the move before the rent man caught up with us. I had to try to get some money for us both. Ran errands, sold matches, oh all sorts. I earned it. Dad spent it. Drink rather than food. Not much use to me.”

  “He wasn’t much use to anybody, seems to me.” Jake was angry, very angry, that anyone could treat his Granddad badly - but for somebody’s own father to be so awful.

  Gra
nddad didn’t reply for a while. Then he went on. “I went away and got a job on a farm when I was twelve. Blooming great carthorse stood on my foot. Couldn’t work for ages and I had to go back to Dad - don’t think he noticed I was there half the time.” He sighed and took Jake’s hand. “Different for you though, eh, Jake. You’ve not got a lot, but what you’ve got is good. Mam and Dad to take care of you; school - don’t wrinkle your nose up like that; pals; warmth; and food in your belly.”

  “I’ve never really thought about it before.”

  “And that’s how it should be. Mind you, things looked up a bit for me when I met your grandma. Her Dad had a shoe shop and cobblers. He took me on and I was good at it, and we got along very nicely. His Anna was really beautiful and I was the proudest chap alive when she said she’d be my wife. When we got married we moved to this nice little house and we were happy, and when your Dad came along, we thought we’d got it made.”

  “Then the war came along, your War.”

  “Oh aye. Great posters with “Join your country’s army,” and this General -Kitchener his name was - pointing his finger at you and saying he wants you. Mind you, it was nice to feel wanted, and a bit important. The Mayor raised a regiment of the local lads, and off we went in our smart uniforms. There’s some of them there.” He picked up the photograph.

  Jake looked at it carefully. In the centre, a proud young man with Granddad’s crooked smile.

  “Just two of us came through out of all those mates.”

  “What about the cat?” said Jake, quickly. He remembered that scene with Granddad in the street and didn’t want him thinking about bad times.

  “Eeh, if the lads had known I had a cuddly toy in my kitbag.” He chuckled at the thought. “It was the only thing my mother made for me. Couldn’t be parted from it when I was a baby. Still can’t. It’s like a sort of a charm. What does that make me? A bit of an April fool, me. He pointed to the date on the birth certificate. Oh, and I became Jacob Finney when I came out of the army. Took a bit of stick from some folk when I was Feinstein. Won’t go into that now.”

  Granddad put the envelope back in the box, on top of the boot, which had a dirty old sock stuffed inside it. What on earth was that for, wondered Jake.

  Granddad gave a little laugh. “Swore I’d never be down at heel again if I ever got out of that lot alive. Must be why I went back to being a cobbler, eh? That’s enough for now, lad. You get off and help your Mam now. Tell her I’m just having a bit of shut-eye.”

  Jake went downstairs. His mind was buzzing. Strange, he’d never really thought about Granddad having a life of his own. And what a life!

  Chapter Three

  “Jake, get up, it’s the Moaning Minnie again. Come on, quick.”

  Mum was shaking him out of his dreams. He was trying to rescue the smallest cat he had ever seen, that was walking straight in front of the largest carthorse he had ever seen. As he tossed and turned he saw the hoof come down and he couldn’t bear to think of what he would see. He flung himself to the ground and covered his head. A group of soldiers came hurrying up. “Don’t worry lad, it’s only knitted.” He picked up the little bundle and shook it into shape. Jake laughed and laughed and laughed himself awake. “It’s not funny, it’s the air raid warning,” said Mam, pulling him out of bed.

  And indeed it wasn’t funny, as Jake became conscious of that the awful sound of Moaning Minnie, the air raid siren, soaring up high, then sinking down low, it turned his stomach. It meant the bombs were coming, screaming through the air, and the Ack-Ack guns firing away at the enemy planes - sometimes they brought one down and it fell in the North Sea. Once one fell on a house. He put on his jumper and his dressing gown and went down to their hidey-hole. It was a big walk-in cupboard right underneath the staircase. “Where’s Granddad?”

  “He’s just brewing up a can of tea – reckons we’ve got a few minutes before it all starts.”

  Sometimes Jake just couldn’t understand Granddad. “That’s strange. Really, really strange.”

  “What’s so strange, then?”

  “Granddad! Oh, Mam, he got so upset when he heard a really loud bang in the street today. (He didn’t let on it was Scrapper’s fault.) You know, falling flat on the ground and shaking and that, like he does sometimes. It was awful. He just seemed, well, terrified. When there’s an air raid though, like now, he’s quite calm.”

  Mam thought a bit as she got the mattress and the cushions ready, then smiled, a sad sort of smile. “Well, it’s because of you, isn’t it? And me, I suppose. He’s in charge here. It’s his son who’s away fighting the Germans now - Granddad’s done his bit - so he’s made it his job to look after us. And then, the siren gives us a bit of a warning of what’s going to happen, so it’s not all sudden. I reckon that it’s got something to do with not being out in the open, as well.”

  “Is that why he doesn’t like going outside to the shelter?”

  Mam nodded. “I think it must be.”

  Most of their backyard was taken up with a big brick shelter that the Council built, but they all preferred the big cupboard under the stairs. Bit cramped, but cosy, and you could try to imagine that all the racket going on above was just a big thunderstorm. If you went outside to get to the shelter, though, you’d see the planes, and the searchlights, and the barrage balloons like big whales, and the gunfire. The sky was full of action, and you couldn’t pretend.

  “Here we are then.” Granddad appeared with a big billycan of tea, some doorstep sandwiches and his harmonica. “Budge up, Jakey.” It was nice Granddad calling him Jakey, like the gang did. Mam always called him Jake, Granddad only called him Jake when he was telling him off, or being serious, neither of which happened too often.

  He and Jakey had the mattress under a big shelf. Mam had her place opposite, with lots of cushions. “Snug as a bug in a rug,” said Granddad. “Right, you lot up there. Do your worst - if you can! Our lads’ll soon sort you out.” He started to play “Pack up your troubles,” Jake’s favourite, and he and Mam joined in at full voice. You could scarcely hear what was going on outside.

  When the noise did get a bit loud as a bomb screamed down, Jake would mutter, “My name is Adolph Hitler.” He didn’t think anyone heard him, but Granddad looked at him, puzzled, and asked, “What do you say that for, Jakey?”

  “You told me, Granddad. You said that if a bomb had your name on it, you’d get it.”

  Half an hour later, Jake, who had drifted off to sleep, was woken by the most tremendous explosion that made his ears ring. He sat up quickly, banging his head on the shelf.

  “All right, lad. Keep calm. It’s not us.” Granddad gave him a hug, but he looked across at Jake’s mother and shook his head sadly. Seemed some other poor beggars weren’t so lucky.

  As if that huge explosion had been the grand finale at a concert, the noise died down. But there was no clapping. They waited. Nobody spoke. Jake had his fingers crossed. Then the sweet sound of the All Clear sent its one note signal that it was all over for the night. The planes had gone - some crashed into the countryside or in the sea, some limping home to come again another night. “I’ll just go and check,” said Granddad. He got up and stretched his cramped limbs. He went to open the door, but couldn’t. It was jammed solid.

  “We’ve been bombed,” screamed Mam. She did get a bit carried away sometimes was blocking the door and squeezed out. “Better get your duster out, Missus,” he said cheerfully. He went into the kitchen to make another brew of tea – his remedy for all ills. And saw stars. There was a large hole in the kitchen roof.

  Mam, who had followed him, screamed again. “We’ve had a bomb through the roof. Quick, we’ve got to get out! It might go off.”

  “By, you’ve got a big scream, lass. You make more noise than the siren. All we’ve got is a bit of shrapnel. Look!” On the floor was a huge piece of twisted metal, still hot to the touch. “That’ll be the star of Jake’s collection.”

  The Gang often went out the mo
rning after a raid, when the streets were littered with shrapnel - the metal fragments of bombs and shells. They only collected the most interesting bits that looked like something. Jake had one like a swordfish. Brains had one bit he swore was an Avenging Angel. The others weren’t too sure what that was, but they had to admit that it was a bit like a woman in a long dress with wings either side. Sometimes they did swaps, but Brains would never part with this one.

  The Finneys decided it wasn’t worth going back to bed; so it was a big clean up job instead. Everything was higgledy-piggledy in the kitchen, but when they’d cleared away the bits of plaster and white dust over everything - they all looked like animated snowmen - there was surprisingly little broken. The three eggs in the pantry, their Sunday Tea special - were still there, and the bread was O.K. apart from a slight covering of white - “just like a bit of flour,” said Granddad. “What we need is a feast - bit of a celebration after all that hard work. How about boiled egg and toast fingers for breakfast?”

  Mam said Grace before they tucked in. Jake was a bit surprised. They didn’t do this every mealtime, just for special events like Birthday Teas and Christmas Dinner. For what we are about to receive, may the Lord make us truly thankful. Amen. Jake thought it was rather nice, but couldn’t help thinking what a strange world they were living in, when nighttimes had stopped being peaceful times for warmth, comfort and sleep, with the sky a silent black velvet background to the stars. For some people last night, what they were about to receive was a very nasty shock. Come daytime, people tried to carry on as normal - well, if they were the lucky ones. Shops put notices outside saying “Business as usual,” even when their windows had been blown out and they were outside, sweeping up the glass in between serving customers. Neighbours looked after people whose homes were bombed.

  After breakfast, Granddad went out for a look round, and came back to report that it seemed all right in their street. No really dreadful damage.

  There was a knock at the door. It was Scrapper. “You all right?”

  “Just a hole in our kitchen roof,” said Jake, almost proudly. “Could have been a bomb. But it wasn’t.”

  “Coming out to get the shrapnel? There’s heaps,” said Scrapper.

  Jake looked at Mam, who nodded a weary head. “What it is to be young! Go on then, just for a bit mind. Granddad and me are going to put our feet up.”

  The two lads walked down the street. It didn’t look much different - all the houses still there - a bit of debris in the streets.

  “Look at this,” shouted Scrapper. He picked up a bit of the twisted metal. “It’s still hot, looks just like a plane.”

  “With one wing missing,” scoffed Jake.

  “So what. It’s a Jerry – just after our chaps got it. Just about to plunge to the earth.” He made a swooping sound and swung the ‘plane’ to the ground. “Hey, look at this.” He picked from the gutter a little book, black leather, with its edge ripped off. “Can’t read a word of it.”

  “Let’s see. Bet it’s German. Yes, lots of the words have dots over them. Perhaps someone baled out. Any signs of a parachute?”

  “Think we’d have noticed,” said Scrapper. “And how do you know if somebody’s a German?”

  “You ask him to say, “Wendell Wilkie,” and if he says “Vendell Vilkie” he’s a German.

  “Why’s that then?”

  “Because they say their Ws like that. Oh, and there’d be the uniform, of course.”

  “All right, smarty-pants,” said Scrapper. “ I reckon if we bumped into a German he’d shoot us dead before you could ask any silly questions.” He gave Jake a friendly punch. “I know, let’s go and call for Brains. He’d know about the book.”

  “If his Mammy will let him out,” grinned Jake.

  Brains lived in a house with a garden a few streets away. It was semi-detached which meant it had a lot of space. Brains did things on a Saturday morning. He had his piano practice to do, and his homework. Nobody else in the class had homework, but his Mam had been to see the teacher and found out which books to use. He was allowed out afterwards. They got to his street, to find a big barrier blocking the way.

  “You can’t go in there, lads. Off you go.” Said an A.R.P. man.

  “But our pal lives there.”

  “Not any more he doesn’t. Come on, lads,” he said, not unkindly.” We’ve work to do here.”

  Speechless, they went over to the other side of the road. Where the first two houses in the road had been there was a crater, and what a crater! A huge hole so deep they couldn’t see the bottom of it from where they were standing. It stretched right down the back garden, almost to the Anderson shelter like the one in Brains’ garden, where the Gang often played and held meetings. If you had a garden, you got one of these shelters, which were dug right into the ground, and were supposed to be very safe. The houses were quite new and didn’t have a big cupboard under the stairs like the old terraces where Jake and Scrapper lived. “Wouldn’t have done for Granddad,” thought Jake. The third house along was where Brains lived. His house was still standing, but there was no roof, the rafters were exposed to the sky, there was no glass in any window, and the garden was full of rubble.

  “Hope they got to the shelter,” gasped Scrapper. “Hey, let’s go round the back lane.”

  Brains’ back garden fence was down. Jake and Scrapper looked on now, not knowing what to say, what to do. Men were dragging bits of concrete and bricks from in front of the shelter.

  Suddenly there was a shout. “They’re in here!” A bit more work and they dragged the door open. One man reached an arm inside. Out came Brains, in pyjamas and a mackintosh, carrying a bag. Then his Mam was hauled out. She had a fur coat on over her nightie. Catching the first sight of the devastation, she promptly passed out.

  Scrapper and Jake jumped up and down, shaking their fists in the air in delight. They ran back to the barrier shouting, “Brains, Brains!”

  “Miracle that! Not a scratch on them,” the man at the barrier was saying. “Hello, you two again. Told you to keep back.”

  “That’s our pal.”

  “I see, well, he’ll have to go and be looked at.”

  “I don’t need looking at, “ shouted Brains, “I’m fine. I’ll just go back . . .” suddenly, looking all round him in disbelief, he put his hands to his face and his whole body shook.

  “Where do you lads live? Near here?”

  They told him. Jake’s was the nearest.

  “Your Mam at home?”

  Jake nodded.

  “Tell you what. You take . . .“What’s your name, lad?”

  Brains looked embarrassed. “Algernon.”

  Scrapper burst out laughing. He couldn’t help it, even when everything was so awful. Brains’ name had that effect on him.

  Well, take er… Algernon to your house. We’ll tell his Mum where he is. Don’t worry, lad. The W.V.S. ladies will look after her - always turn up with their van.”

  Jake put an arm round Brains’ shoulder. “Come on, kidder. It’ll be all right. Here, I’ll take that.” He took the bag from Brains. It was heavy.

  “It’s the Avenging Angel. Kept us safe. They’ll get what’s coming to them.” He shook a fist in the direction of the crater. Suddenly Brains began to laugh. “At least I won’t have to do my piano practice today.” He laughed and he laughed, then he cried and he cried.

  “He’s got the hysterics,” said Snapper. “My Mam has them sometimes when we get on her nerves too much. She usually ends up throwing something, or breaking a plate. That makes her feel better. Hey, look Brains, we brought this to show you. Picked it up in the gutter. We think it’s German.” Brains looked at the tattered book, dazed, then with all his force he hurled it at the barrier. He didn’t even say anything. They made their way slowly back to Jake’s house. Jake banged on the wooden front door. It wasn’t usually shut at all, but it was as if today they wanted to keep the outside world out.

  “Coming,” shouted Mam. She
opened the door. “You’re back early. Granddad’s gone to try and get a tarpaulin for the hole in the kitchen roof. What, no shrapnel? I’d have thought . . .”Her voice trailed as she took a closer look at Brains. “Eeh, lad, what’s happened?” She put her arms round him in a big hug. “Come on in with you.”

  She settled Brains down in Granddad’s big armchair, where he sat, hunched up, his head in his hands, as if he wanted to make himself invisible. Jake and Scrapper sat opposite, not quite knowing what to say.

  “Hey, show him that big bit of shrapnel that came through your roof.”

  Jake just gave Scrapper a look.

  “O.K. bad idea,” said Scrapper.

  Brains didn’t seem to have heard anything.

  Jake’s Mam went to make a cup of tea. No better thing for shock in her opinion.

  Chapter Four

  It was amazing really how quickly things started to settle down. Brains’ Mam was looked after by the W.V.S. ladies in green, who wore a uniform and seemed to appear out of nowhere whenever they were needed, with cups of tea and words of comfort. They brought her round to Jake’s house, where she hugged the breath out of Brains and drank yet another cup of tea. It was agreed that Brains could stay for a day or so at Jake’s, while his Mam stayed with her sister on the other side of town, and got busy seeing the men from the Council and filling in forms about getting somewhere to live.

  While Mam was ministering to the homeless, Granddad had managed to get some tarpaulin to cover the hole in their kitchen roof. He got back to see Mrs. Brown enfolding her son in another bear hug on the front doorstep. Brains was looking rather scarecrow-like in some clothes Mrs. Finney had unearthed for him in the pile of donated clothes she was taking to the depot. His Mam still had her fur coat on, but Jake’s Mam had given her one of her dresses. As Mrs. Finney was on the plump side, and Mrs Brown was skeleton thin it wasn’t what you’d call elegant – still, there was a War on. Brains stood on the doorstep after she’d left, looking a bit sad and lost.

  “Ha’way in, lad. Things’ll sort themselves out.” Granddad gently guided Brains back indoors.

  Scrapper and Jake were sitting on the sofa, for once not too sure what to do next. When Scrapper saw Granddad he turned red. “Sorry, for yesterday, like, Mr. Finney.”

  “No need, lad, no need. You weren’t to know. I’ll just go and talk to Jake’s Mam about fixing the roof.”

  The Terrible Trio sat for a while, each waiting for the other to speak. It was Brains who finally broke the silence. “Mam’ll want me to be evacuated, now,” he said in despair. She’s kept talking about it – couldn’t make her mind up. This will do it for her.”

  “Never!” cried Scrapper. “Bombs is better by far. We’ve tried it, me and Sally, that evacuation lark. Rather be here with the bombs than evacuated. We hated it.”

  Jake was surprised that Scrapper was getting so het up.“ What, all that fresh country air and milk straight from the cows.”

  “Fresh country air! You should smell it sometimes when they put manure on the fields. You’re stuck in the country with no streets to play in. Had to walk miles over the fields to get to school. And cows - all over the place. The size of them! Our Sally was scared stiff. She’d never seen one live before - neither had I come to that. One day, on the way to school, they were right on the path, mooing in our face. She just turned round and ran back to the house. Did she get told off!”

  “What was the school like?” asked Brains.

  Scrapper was pleased he seemed to have roused himself to take an interest. “School! That’s a laugh. It was just about the size of a house – two classrooms, little’uns and big’uns. Them Yorkshire kids laughed at us - said we spoke funny. When we got in the class, though, we could have laughed at them. We were loads ahead of them in lessons and our Sally’s not all that bright.”

  From nowhere, seemingly, Sally irrupted into the room. “I heard that! Not you neither.”

  “That’s what they call a double negative,” said Brains.

  Jake and Scrapper looked at one another and grinned. Brains was getting back to his old self. “We’ll take your word for it, Brains.”

  “Hey, that’s it.” Scrapper was quite excited. “You’d be far too clever to be in one of them village schools. Tell your mother it would interfere with your education.”

  “It would be detrimental to my educational development,” nodded Brains.

  “And you could say that lightning never strikes twice in the same place. You’ve had your share of bombs,”added Jake. “Worth trying!”

  “Any rate, what are you doing here, our kid?” Scrapper wasn’t best pleased to see his sister.

  “Mam has to do an extra shift at the factory, so I’ve got to stay with you.” Scrapper pulled a face.

  “When we were evacuated, I had to learn to knit,” said Sally.“I wasn’t very good at it. Auntie Belle put the stitches on the needle for me, then you had to go - IN, OVER, THROUGH, OUT - for every single stitch. It was called garter stitch. I kept dropping the stitches and she got cross. Sometimes she pulled it all out and I had to do it again.”

  “What were you making?” asked Jake.

  “What do you think - Garters,” giggled Sally.

  “True,” said Scrapper. “These great long, thin strips of knitting were for Auntie Belle to keep her stockings up. She had great fat legs, and she wound them round and round above her knees.” (Sally couldn’t stop giggling at the thought.) “Wasn’t funny at the time, mind you,” Scrapper went on. “Every Sunday, that’s all we were allowed to do after Church, our kid doing the knitting, me holding great skeins of wool while Auntie Belle wound it into balls. Didn’t half make your arms ache. Mam and Dad sent us the Beano and the Dandy every week, but comics weren’t allowed on a Sunday. Sally sat on one, one Sunday, to try to hide it, but it was spotted. Auntie Belle tore it up, and I hadn’t even read Desperate Dan. Auntie Belle - not our real Aunt - wouldn’t wish her on anybody - pulled all Sally’s knitting out when she’d nearly finished it. Sally said a very rude word, which she’d picked up from the village lads. They sent her up to wash her mouth out with soap, and to bed in the dark. She's scared of the dark on her own, I said Auntie Belle was cruel, she clipped me across head, so I kicked her, so she said she’d kick me out. Mam came and got us and said we’d not go away any more. We got back just in time for the bombs starting.”

  Granddad came into the room, or rather leapt into the room. His spectacular Cossack leap went a bit wrong, and he grabbed Scrapper’s arm for support. “A Russian soldier taught me that. Not everybody can do it, you know.”

  Scrapper was about to make some cheeky remark when he caught Jake’s warning look. Brains was intrigued. “Where did you meet a Russian soldier, Mr. Finney?”

  “Where else but in Russia, lad.”

  “But I thought you were a soldier in France?”

  “That I was, and that I’d rather forget, but no sooner did we think that the war was nearly over than off we went to Russia, to sort out the Bolsheviks – they’d taken Russia out of the war so they could get on with their Revolution.”

  “What’s that?” asked Sally.

  “It’s when one lot don’t like the way the country’s run, so they want to take charge. Usually a lot of fighting in the process.” Brains was keen to explain.

  “You’ve just about summed it up, lad. Lots of problems, lots of destruction, lots of people having to leave their homes. You couldn’t do a lot to help. I did help the Countess, though, I’m pleased to say.” Granddad stood up. “Right, lads and lasses, I’ll leave you to it, there’s work to be done.”

  “The Countess?”

  “Who was she?

  “Oh, you can’t go yet, Mr. Finney.Tell us about the Countess.”

  Which was, of course, exactly what Granddad had intended to do. He sat down again.

  “Well now,” he said, “have you ever been completely and utterly lost?”

  “I lost Mam in White’s Market, once,” s
aid Sally.

  Granddad smiled. “A bit more lost than that, Sally. In a thick, thick forest, with scarcely any paths. I’d got separated from my unit, and I didn’t even know which was North and which was South.”

  “There’s a way of telling . . .” began Brains, but the others shut him up.

  “I didn’t fancy running into any Red Army blokes, that’s the lot we were fighting - fierce lot they were. So I went very slow. I heard a rustle in the bushes and saw something move.”

  “Did you shoot it?” asked Scrapper.

  “You don’t shoot if you can help it. Gives your presence away. I pretended I hadn’t noticed anything, then suddenly pounced on him – only it was a her.”

  “Did they have women soldiers, then?” asked Scrapper.

  “Oh, shut up, Scrapper, let Granddad get on with the story.”

  “She was a refugee. When your home is destroyed and your family are taken away, you just flee. She was scared stiff when she saw me.”

  “All right, hinny,” I says, “I won’t hurt you.”

  “You English?” says she.

  “I am, and proud of it.”

  Granddad drew himself up as he spoke. He was getting into his stride as a storyteller.

  “You have water? I have food - a little, but I have thirst.”

  She took my water bottle and nearly drained it before she remembered her manners. “I am so sorry, I take your drink.”

  She handed back the flask and stood up. She was tall. Her hair was done up on top of her head, very pretty it must have been once. She was swaddled in two heavy blankets, tied round her neck. As she moved there was the glimpse of a dress – lovely shiny material, all frills and flounces.

  “A princess in disguise,” breathed Sally.

  “Almost, as it turned out.” Granddad went on with the story.

  “Are you an Officer?” asked the lady.

  I was a bit narked that she seemed to think it mattered. I was an ordinary soldier, who was going to help her. “Tommy,” I said, a bit sharp like.

  She stood up, and immediately sat down again. Her legs were too wobbly. “I am just a little tired,” then she smiled, and she was beautiful.

  “You need looking after, Madam. You’d better get rid of that dress first of all. If you look rich, the next band of soldiers will slit your throat for anything you’ve got.”

  I walked with her, slowly, painfully, until we came to a cottage – deserted, half destroyed. “This’ll do. We might strike lucky.”

  We did. Hanging on a door was a peasant’s dress, a bit ragged, a bit smelly. “Fair exchange. You get into that one, leave yours. She’ll think the fairies have been. I’ll go out and recce.”

  She wrinkled her nose a bit, but did as she was told. When I got back she’d scraped back her hair, dirtied her face with ashes and scrubbed some soil into her fingernails.

  “You’ll do!” says I.

  “Have you a mirror?”

  “Women! Don’t you know there’s a war on, Mrs. . . Mrs. who by the way?”

  “Mrs. er. . . Countess Irena Rostov” She looked at her ragged dress and filthy hands, she looked at me, and then she started to laugh. Then I started to laugh, and for a moment we forgot the War. “I like you, Tommy,” she said. “One day, when I am home again and this horror is long gone, you will come and visit me.”

  Well, I asked her about her home. Marano, she said. It didn’t have a street name or a house number. It was the only house, it seems. A big one with servants, and people working in the fields who had huts far away.

  “Well, Mrs. Countess, I can’t stop here long. I’ve got to find my mates. Let’s just check. You look all right. Oh no, you can’t walk in them!” (Her shoes were dainty things with buckles.) “Hang on a minute. Don’t look out of the window.” I went out again. There were people lying in the back farmyard who had no more need of shoes - of anything come to that. I got a pair of smallish boots for her, with thick woollen stockings, and a pair of army boots, from a man in uniform, Red Army, White Army, you never quite knew, for myself.”

  When she was kitted out, she suddenly burst out crying, “You are so kind to me, Tommy. I thank you. I will never forget you.”

  “I had to try to get back to my unit, so I had to leave her. Never knew what happened to her. Never forgot her,” he said softly. He sat for a while, lost in a faraway world, then he said, “Better get back to work. There’s a hole to be mended. Tell you what - you take your pals into the front room. Might be something there to interest them.” He winked at Jake and nodded in Brain’s direction.

  The front room was something special, only used for important events - not really extraordinarily special, but it had a three-piece suite, and a carpet. What it had, too, was a piano.

  “Didn’t know you played,” said Brains.

  “I don’t, although Mam’s threatening to make me learn. She got it not so long ago, when her aunt moved house. Family heirloom sort of thing. See, you can do your practice after all.”

  Brains moved to the piano He tried a scale or two. “Ouch!” he said.

  “Doesn’t sound quite right,” said Jake.

  Brains launched into one of his pieces, jangling and off-key and awful. They all ended up in hysterical laughter. Sally danced round and round till she felt dizzy.

  “If we had a cat it would frighten the life out of it,” snorted Jake.

  Mam came into the room to find out what was going on.

  “Lovely piano, Mrs. Finney,” said Brains. “I think it just needs tuning.”

  “Well, it’s certainly cheered you lot up,” said Mrs. Finney. Be thankful for small mercies, she added to herself, as she thought about what had brought them all together.

  Chapter Five

  It didn’t take long for Brain’s Mam to get something arranged with the Council. By the next week they’d got a temporary house sorted out, and Brains was meeting Mrs. Brown in town to buy some clothes and a few bits and pieces. Jake enjoyed having him stay, it was almost like having a brother, but it was nice all the same to have some time to himself. He’d just got out the Balsa wood for the plane he was carving when Mam appeared, carrying his boots. “Your boots, Jake! Just look at them!”

  “What, they’re quite clean aren’t they - and polished?”

  Granddad had a thing about well-polished boots, his army training coming out. ‘You’ve heard of spit and polish,’ he’d say. ‘Well, I want to be able to see my face in them boots!’

  “That’s as maybe,” said Mam, in her stand-no-nonsense voice, “but look at the soles. The segs are almost worn through.” Leather was hard to come by, and nearly everyone had metal studs hammered into their soles and heels. Big, thick heavy ones for the men and lads; thinner, dainty ones for the womenfolk. It was almost a crime to let them get so worn down that you walked on the precious leather. “You’d better get along to Granddad’s and get new ones.”

  “No peace for the wicked,” grumbled Jake, as he’d often heard his Mam say, and he would say ‘Piece of what?’“Can I go on the tram, then?”

  “It would do you good to walk. Still, with the state of those segs you’d better keep off them. You can get the tram there and walk back.”

  The model plane would have to wait. Any rate, he quite liked going into Granddad’s little workshop at the top of the Avenue. It was just a sort of cubbyhole really, with a drop-down counter, and steps up to a tiny room behind, with all his cobbling tools and a kettle for a brew. There weren’t all that many customers. In fact, quite often Granddad only worked half the day. The tram stop was right opposite Granddad’s, so his boots wouldn’t do much walking. He loved going on the tram. The tramlines ran straight up the Avenue. He always went upstairs to the front seat, and the swaying of the tram made him imagine he was on a ship. If he was all alone, he went right along, changing the seats the other way round with a lovely clatter, then he went and sat right at the front. The conductor always grumbled as he came to take his money. Up all those stairs an
d right along the tram for a penny fare. He selected a ticket from among all the different coloured ones in his holder, clipped the ticket and grumbled down again. At his stop Jake jumped off before the tram had stopped.

  “You’ll kill yourself one of these days, you young monkey.” The conductor always said it, and Jake always did it. All the lads did. He crossed over to Granddad’s. “Shop” shouted Jake, and Granddad came to the counter, smiling when he saw who it was.

  “And what can I do for you, young sir? Jake took off his boots and presented them soles uppermost. “Segs, please.”

  “Eh lad, there’d be enough metal to make a cannon with all the segs you get through. Mind, I wish we’d had some handy when we were marching in the War. Always a problem, boots were.”

  “Like when you got some new ones for you and the Russian lady. The gang thought that was a great story, Granddad.”

  “Ay, and there’s more to tell, but just for us two, eh. Now pass me that hammer and the pincers.” Granddad set to work, and in no time at all Jake put on his newly restored boots and said his thanks and goodbye. He quite fancied learning to help Granddad in the shop, but Granddad didn’t seem too keen. “Don’t want you cutting your thumb off with these sharp knives, or breaking a finger with my hammer.” Jake could have said that he was used to knives, with doing his modelling, but he had a sort of feeling that Granddad used his little shop as his place to be alone, just like Jake used his special tree.

  You always had to go a bit carefully at first with new segs. You felt a bit lifted off the ground. When he’d gone a safe distance from the shop he started kicking with one foot. If you did it right you could make sparks.

  “Who’s a clever boy then. You’ll be making fire next,” said a sneering voice from behind him. Olly Stott!

  “At least I’ve got a decent pair of boots.” He made a face as he glanced down at Olly’s feet, then wished he hadn’t said that. Olly’s boots looked at least two sizes too big. He was always a bit of a ragamuffin. His jumper had a big hole in the front and he wasn’t wearing a shirt. It wasn’t his fault, Jake supposed.

  He raised his arm to ward off Olly’s reaction (like Scrapper, Olly was very quick to talk with his fists), only to drop it in astonishment as Olly said, “Sorry about old Four-eyes and his house. Must have been nasty.” He gave Jake a jab with his elbow and ran off. Although they were rivals, and Olly was pretty rough, there was sometimes something about him that made Jake think he wasn’t too bad after all.

  “Take those boots off straight away. Don’t want them making dents in the lino.” Mam was waiting at the front door. “Put your new slippers on.

  New was hardly the right word. Mam had got them from the Clothes Exchange. They had had a bow on the front when he got them, which he quickly removed, leaving a little hole where he had cut them off. Mam hadn’t noticed yet. They were pale blue, but he was working on that with a bit of coal dust. At least they weren’t pink.

  When Brains came back with his Mam they were shown into the front room. “Play something for your Mam while I get us a nice cup of tea,” said Mrs. Finney.

  Jake and Brains looked at one another and almost choked. They hadn’t been in the front room since that hilarious first time. “You heard what Mam said,” said Jake, holding his hand in front of his mouth to stop him snorting. Brains sat down to play. Jake kept his gaze fixed on Brains’ Mam. He couldn’t wait to see her expression when she heard the ear splitting sound the piano made. The music flowed, Mrs Brown listened, half-smiling, a rapt look on her face. It was perfect. Mam came in with the tea tray. Brains got up, took the tray from her, put his arms round her and hugged her. “You had it tuned, for me. It’s lovely.”

  Mam’s eyes were moist. “Ah, but I’ve got a plan. You’ve got to see if you can drum some enthusiasm for music into that lad of mine. Come and practice whenever you want. I like to hear you play.”

  “We’ll be moving next week, Mrs. Finney. It’s all arranged. The situation is this.” Brains’ Mum started a long explanation.

  “You lads could go on out into the yard to play, while we have a talk,” said Jake’s Mam. Jake and Brains went outside and sat on the kitchen step.

  “Your Mam’s not having you evacuated, then.”

  “No, thank goodness, but she took a lot of convincing. The Council are moving us into an empty house until ours can be fixed. That’ll be ages. But, till then, we’ll be very near you. Trafalgar Terrace, in fact.”

  “Great,” said Jake. “Wait till we tell Scrapper.”

  “That’s the good news.”

  “What’s the bad, then?”

  “We’re next door to Olly Stott, and his three brothers, and his two sisters. He’s the youngest. Hope Mam can stand the racket.”

  “Gosh, I didn’t know there were that many of them. No wonder he always looks a bit of a scruff. He’s probably got to wear hand-me-downs of hand-me-downs of hand-me-downs. Can’t be much fun. Saw him today in the Avenue. You know what he said?”

  “Something foul about you, or me, or Scrapper.”

  “Something about you. He said he was sorry about your house – it must have been nasty.” Jake didn’t mention that Olly had called Brains “Four-eyes.” He was a bit sensitive about wearing glasses.

  “Hey, that was decent of him. What got into him?”

  That evening, Brains was going to the cinema with his Mam to celebrate getting the house business fixed. After tea, Granddad and Jake went upstairs to the room they shared. There were only two rooms upstairs, but they were quite big. Brains had had a room of his own in the house that got bombed and Jake sometimes thought that would be nice, but Granddad had been very clever in making a wooden frame to close off a big alcove with thick curtains in front, so Jake had his own cosy retreat. They both sat on Granddad’s bed. Jake could hardly wait. “Can I have the rest of the story, Granddad?”

  “Now which story was that?” said Granddad, rummaging under his bed. He liked to tease sometimes.

  “You know, the Countess.”

  “I did indeed know the Countess, if not very well.” He’d fished out his cardboard box, and put aside the things that Jake had already seen. “Now where did I get to?”

  “You left her, because you had to get back to your unit.”

  “Ah yes, but before that, after she had said thanks and all that, she looked a bit sad, and said, “I must now be a poor peasant, to stay alive.”

  “That is exactly right, staying alive is the important thing,” says I, “ and the poor peasant bit isn’t some sort of a game. People have to believe that’s what you are. You’re almost there, so long as you don’t walk.”

  She looked a bit puzzled, so I tried to explain. “At the moment you hold your head up high, almost nose in the air. You stand very straight and you walk as if you’re somebody important.”

  “I was once.”

  “But not any more, my dear, at least not for now. Anybody watching you would know you were no peasant as soon as you put one foot in front of the other - and those soldiers would cut your throat soon as look at you if they thought you had anything to steal.”

  She looked really worried, and I wondered how I could help her understand. There was a sack of turnips in a corner. I picked it up. It was heavy.“ Here, hoick that on your back. Now - walk.

  She lifted up the heavy sack, her back bent under the weight, and she trudged along, panting. “Now remember how that feels, all the time.”

  She collapsed on the ground. Suddenly she put her hand between her, er …bosoms, She held out her hand and opened her palm, and there was an egg. Not a real one you understand, it was solid and warm to the touch as she handed it to me. It was like a conjuring trick. It was such a beautiful thing, all shining green and gold, and decorated with sparkling stones. “Keep it, Tommy.”

  Her eyes closed. She lay down. For a minute I really thought she was dead, but it was just sheer fatigue, poor lady. This would be the time for me to go. I left some food I’d scavenged beside her, an
d there were the turnips. I put a little note beside her hand - Go safely. Tommy, and my address.”

  Then, slowly, Granddad pulled from the box the old boot. He pulled from the boot an old sock. He pulled from the sock a small object, about four inches high. It sparkled and shone. It was an egg, but an egg made of precious green and shimmering stone. It had golden swirls on it and brilliant jewels sparkling in the curves. “She said, ‘Keep it, Tommy, and I have, all these years.”

  Jake stared, speechless. He had never seen anything so beautiful.

  Chapter Six

  School was over for the weekend. The terrible trio, plus Sally tagging on behind, were walking slowly home, munching. “All this school makes you awfully hungry,” said Snapper. He was eating the ha’penny carrot he’d just bought and scraped with a penny coin. He’d used up all his sweet coupons.

  “Don’t know how you can eat that carrot,” said Jake. “They’re bad enough cooked.”

  “Don’t you know they make you see well at night? I’m going to be a fighter pilot. I read all about it. You need good night vision.”

  Brains was impressed that Scrapper had read anything he didn’t have to. “Hang on though, you can’t do that for eight years. This war’s not going to go on that long, I hope.”

  Sally piped up. “I’m going to be a lady Wren and wear one of those lovely hats. They help the sailors and they’ve got the best uniform.”

  “Oh, shut up Sally,” they said all together.

  Jake had chewed his liquorice root almost down to the end. It looked like a twig of a tree, but when you started eating it, it wasn’t bad at all. It broke down into long strings as you ate all the liquoricey bits. The few sweets or bit of chocolate you were allowed every week left a big gap to be filled. Brains had a mixture of dried milk, cocoa powder and sugar, which he’d concocted at home while his Mam wasn’t looking. You wet your finger and dipped it in and sucked. Tasted great! When you’d finished you had one perfectly clean finger in contrast to the day’s dirt on all the others. You had to be quick and wash your hands when you got home so Mam wouldn’t find out. He let Sally dip in, too, as she hadn’t got anything.

  “What’s it like living next door to Olly Stott?” asked Scrapper.

  Brains didn’t answer straight away. There were a few things he wanted to keep to himself. “Not as bad as we thought it would be. His Mam is quite nice, although she’s always yelling and screaming at them. She said I can go in there if Mam’s on duty and I’m on my own. Don’t think I’ll bother though,” he grinned. He was careful not to mention Olly directly.

  Mrs. Brown had been so taken with the W.V.S., who had been so kind when they were bombed out, that she had joined them, and was very proud to be a lady in green. Her new next-door neighbour had been quite envious. “Wish I could do something like that - but with this lot to look after I don’t have any time. With no man about the place it s a bit hard. Haven’t a clue where their father is now.” She caught sight of Mrs. Brown’s face, and immediately realized that she wasn’t the only one, although perhaps for a different reason. “Sorry, love, suppose you’re in the same boat. You’ve not had any news of your man, either?” When Mrs. Brown shook her head without speaking, she gave her arm a squeeze.

  What Brains didn’t want to tell the others was that he had been seeing quite a bit of Olly Stott. It had started when Brains was going out one morning and saw Olly sitting on his doorstep.

  “Hi, Four-eyes!” said Olly.

  “Hi, Flat-feet!”

  Greetings exchanged, Brains said, “What you got there?”

  “None of your business.”

  “Suit yourself!” Brains started to walk on.

  Olly seemed to have a change of mind. “Hang on. It could be. Give you a toffee if you’ll tell me about this. Olly had written an arithmetic problem on the margin of a newspaper. “These blooming trains going different directions and different speeds. Can’t get the hang of it. Can’t see why it matters – I’ve never been on a ruddy train in me life.”

  “Gets your brain working, and it’s not all that hard when you do get the hang of it.” Brains sat down beside Olly, and they went through it slowly.

  “Hey, I’ve got it now. Ere y’are.” He dug a sticky toffee, a bit fluff covered, from his pocket.

  “I don’t want your sweets, thanks.”

  “Go on, I’ve got plenty. My Uncle Bill - you know, Bill Black, he’s the new caretaker at school - he can get lots. He’s always finding things.”

  And that’s before they’re even lost, thought Brains. There were people like that around, the Spivs who could always lay their hands on anything, War or no War. Then he thought about Olly – he was a bit of a puzzle and no mistake. “What do you want to spend your time doing arithmetic for?” he asked.

  Olly looked at him fiercely, then seemed to come to a decision. “Because I’m going to be an engineer, see. I’m going to get my exams and go to sea. Merchant Navy, that’s the place to be. Travel the world, wear a uniform, be somebody - and you need education to get there.” He stopped and breathed in hard.

  Brains had never heard him say so much on one go. He was amazed. He looked at Olly - not a pretty sight with his patched pants and darned jumper - but his shoulders were back and his chin jutted forward. “Bet you’ll be good at it,” he said.

  Olly wasn’t used to compliments. His face went red, and he snarled, “Just don’t you let on to Jake Finney and the others, or else…” He raised a fist.

  “Got the message,” said Brains, and went off thoughtfully.

  He didn’t tell the others that, after that first encounter, Olly seemed to be waiting on the doorstep quite a bit, always with some work he needed a bit of help with. Brains had a steam engine kit his Mam had given him one birthday. It was a bit of a mystery to him, and he was frightened to try it in case he made a hash of it. He mentioned it to Olly, who could hardly wait to get his hands on it. Olly was quick, no doubt about that, and not too hard to get on with, but they didn’t tell any body else about their meetings.

  Now he decided to change the subject from Olly Stott. “Hey Jakey, your Granddad’s had quite a life, hasn’t he? No wonder he’s a bit, well - different. I mean, fancy going to Russia. They have wolves and big, wild bears in those forests.”

  “And big, wild soldiers,” said Scrapper. “I hope that Russian lady got away”

  “So do I,” breathed Jake. Granddad’s story, the whole story, wouldn’t go out of Jakes’ mind. He wouldn’t tell the others the rest of it, not yet. That beautiful egg. Who could make something so marvellous? When Granddad had put it away again, carefully wrapped in the old sock, and safe in the boot, Jake had felt sad, really sad. He wanted to be able to look at it, touch it. It shouldn’t be hidden in an old sock.

  Something stung him on the back of the neck. It was a conker. He looked round and there was Olly Stott with a big bag in his hand. He’d been round the wood. There was one chestnut tree, and it was an understood thing that you waited till they fell, not throw things to get the first ones.

  “Cheat,” shouted Scrapper. He picked up the one that had landed and threw it back. Olly was no match for the three of them, plus Sally chanting war cries from behind. They got the bag off him, had a bit of a tussle, and finally agreed to share the conkers and have a contest in the playground next week.

  When they got near home Brains said, “Don’t forget the “Tell a story” object for Monday.”

  Every few weeks they had to take something into class to talk about. It needn’t be anything special. Scrapper took his Mam’s wooden spoon once. He told how it was used for everything. Creaming the mixture for a cake, stirring a stew, drawing a face on it and making it into a doll for Sally when she had measles, occasionally for walloping him when he got on Mam’s nerves. He made it sound quite funny.

  Jake knew what he wanted to take this time. So he could tell a story like no one had heard before. Jake was an average sort of person. He was quite good at lessons, though
nowhere near as good as Brains; he was quite good at sport, though nowhere near as good as Scrapper. It would be nice to do something really special for once. Would Granddad let him take the egg? Jake pondered, and realized almost straight away that he wouldn’t even ask Granddad. He knew it would worry him. Granddad didn’t like having to decide things. As long as things were straightforward, he was fine, even in quite difficult times. But new things set him into his really worried state, when he got silent and sort of went into himself. No he couldn’t ask him. But then, if he just borrowed the egg for the afternoon, and put it straight back before Granddad got back from his work, there’d be nothing to worry about. All weekend Jake’s thoughts were Should I, shouldn’t I?, but deep down he knew he would.

  On Monday dinnertime, just before going back to school, he went up to the room he shared with Granddad and took the egg, still wrapped in the old sock. He put it in his gas mask tin, inside the gas mask - came in useful sometimes. They had to carry it with them every day. Sometimes they had a practice in class. Great fun! Everyone put on these smelly rubber snouts that made them look like pigs. They all made silly grunting noises, even the teacher laughed.

  When it was Jake’s turn to tell his object story, he got up and went to the front, still carrying his gasmask. Everybody thought he was going to talk about that and prepared to be bored. Then he started his, or rather Granddad’s, story. He was a good storyteller, and soon the shuffling stopped and he had the attention of the whole class. He’d just got to the bit where the Countess gave Granddad – “THIS” and pulled out the egg - when the headmaster, Mr. Benson, came in. “Keep it, Tommy,” declaimed Jake. Gasps all round.

  Mr. Benson gazed dumbstruck at the egg. “May I, Jake? He took the egg and held it as delicately as if it contained a chick about to hatch. “Incredible! Can’t be! Jake, I would like to take this to look at more closely, when you have finished your amazing story. Come and see me at home time.” He sat down and gave Jake all his attention.

  This was a turn up for the book Jake had not expected. Everybody, including Mr. Benson, clapped hard when he finished, and for the rest of the afternoon he was in a daze.

  I think you may have something of importance here, Jake,” said Mr. Benson,when Jake went to see him after school. Jake had never been in the Headmaster’s room before, unlike Scrapper, who was always being sent there for some bit of naughtiness. “I will not let you risk taking it out of the school. You have shown it to all the class. They will all be wanting to see it. You lads are a bit careless sometimes. It may get damaged. I’ll lock it in my drawer for safety, and here is a letter for your grandfather. I’d like him to come and see me tomorrow, if possible. Off you go now.”

  Jake went out, leaving the Headmaster muttering, “Incredible. Can’t be real,” and shaking his head. “Ah, Mr. Black,” he called to the caretaker, who was passing the door. “I’ve got to be out in five minutes - meeting to go to. Make sure you lock up carefully.”

  Jake didn’t go straight home. He’d told the others not to wait for him, he’d catch them up, but he went down a different road - the road that led him to the wood and his favourite seat. He sat and looked at the oak tree and the knot that became a face - a kind sort of face.

  “ I’m in trouble. Really bad trouble,” he almost sobbed. “I took Granddad’s precious egg. I didn’t ask him. Now the Headmaster thinks it’s something really special – worth a lot of money, perhaps. I meant to put it back, but now I can’t. What if I just lost his letter? But he’d just write another – or even come round to the house. I don’t know what to do.”

  He was trying hard not to cry and his eyes were misty. The tree face seemed to move - to shake slowly from side to side.

  “Tell the truth,” said a voice in Jake’s head.

  “I’m frightened.” Jake said out loud.

  “Be frightened, but be strong.”

  That was it. You had to face up to things.

  Jake walked slowly home. He knew what he had to do.