Don't Know Where, Don't Know When (The Snipesville Chronicles Book 1) Page 16

  But Hannah was silent. She was thinking, how did I get myself into this situation? What was I doing when I agreed to this totally stupid, childish plan? Why didn’t I take off when Eric started throwing rocks? And what, exactly, is the big deal about a broken window? It’s not like it costs that much to replace.

  When Mrs. Devenish returned about ten minutes later, she found the three kids sitting silently in the chairs next to the kitchen fireplace, still wrapped in blankets and drinking the last of their cocoas.

  She looked very tired, and had a lit cigarette between her lips. Taking off her hat and jacket, she hung them on the hooks on the back of the kitchen door. Only Hannah greeted her, with a wary “Hi, Mrs. D.”

  “Good evening to you, Hannah. Is everyone else feeling quite well? Cat got your tongues? I don’t know what you three have been up to while I was out, but I must say, I do find the quiet rather unnerving.”

  Eric gulped, Verity shivered, and Hannah, suddenly made uneasy by the tension in the room, took a sip of her cocoa to hide her discomfort.

  Mrs. Devenish looked oddly at them for a moment, and then caught sight of Eric’s bloodied knees. “Take a tumble, did you? Never mind. Did you give those knees a good wash with soap and water?” Eric muttered that he had. She said, irritably, “Don’t mumble, Eric. Speak up. A simple yes or no will suffice.”

  Just then, someone rapped on the front door. Mrs. Devenish pinched off the end of her cigarette and went to answer, closing the kitchen door behind her. The children looked at each other, alarmed. They heard voices in the hall: Mrs. Devenish was talking with someone who spoke in a low rumble.

  Shortly afterward, she returned with a stony face and a police officer, his bobby’s helmet tucked under his arm.

  “Constable Ellsworth,” she said frostily, “has received a report of three children pestering a householder, one Mrs. Smith, and throwing a stone through her window. Was it you?”

  There was a long silence. Hearing the tone of her voice, nobody wanted to confess.

  The constable held up a small printed booklet. It was Eric’s identity card. “Yours, I believe. Apparently, you dropped it,” he said, handing it to Eric, who reluctantly took it with a shaking hand.

  The kids all looked at the ground.

  As if it were possible, Mrs. Devenish’s expression darkened even more.

  “I see,” she said grimly.

  Verity said, “Granny…”

  “Hold your tongue!” snapped her grandmother, turning on her. She turned back to the policeman, and said calmly, “Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Constable Ellsworth.”

  “Not at all, Mrs. Devenish. What with you being a lady magistrate and all, I reckoned you would want to handle this yourself…”

  “Quite,” she said swiftly. “Naturally, I appreciate your discretion, and please rest assured that I regard this matter with the utmost seriousness. But we need not trouble you further. I will see to it that Mrs. Smith is compensated.”

  Mrs. Devenish left the room with the policeman. The kids heard further muffled discussion, and Hannah was sure her name was mentioned. Then Mrs. Devenish bade the constable good evening, and closed the front door. The kids heard her footsteps going up the stairs. Eric gazed wretchedly at his grazed knees.

  “We’re for it,” mumbled Verity, looking very pale.

  “Busted. Totally,” Hannah agreed glumly. “But don’t worry, you guys, it’s cool. I’ll pay for the window. When she’s done chewing us out, I’ll tell her I have enough money to cover it…”

  Verity was staring at her in amazement. “Shut up, Hannah. You can be so dense.”

  A moment later, they heard heavy footsteps coming back downstairs, and Mrs. Devenish walked in, her face now set in stone. She was carrying a fearsome leather belt, and she dropped it with a thud onto the kitchen table.

  All three kids stared at it.

  Only Hannah spoke, and she made a noise that sounded like “Ahk.”

  Mrs. Devenish looked directly at Hannah, whose heart skipped a beat. “Hannah, I shall deal with you first. Eric, Verity, you will wait your turn in the hall.”

  As Eric and Verity sheepishly made their way out of the kitchen, Mrs. Devenish reached over, and pulled out a chair from under the table. Hannah remained frozen in shock. Through the doorway, Verity looked back and gave her a sympathetic look, before her grandmother closed the door.

  Out in the hallway, Eric immediately kneeled down on the wood floor to listen at the keyhole in the heavy door.

  “Sounds like she’s trying to talk your gran out of it,” he hissed to Verity, who was sitting despondently on the stairs. “Fink she’ll manage?”

  “Hope so,” said Verity, in a less than optimistic voice, as she examined her fingernails.

  “Blimey, I wouldn’t lay odds in her favor,” said Eric, shaking his head.

  “Nor me, honestly,” said Verity, with a heavy sigh. “I’ve never seen Granny so livid.”

  Eric listened at the door again, and frowned. He came over and slumped down next to Verity on the stairs. “You won’t flamin’ believe it. She’s only gone and told your gran it was all our fault.”

  Verity was shocked. “That’s absolutely vile. How could she? What a simply beastly thing to do. Well, I know Granny, and she won’t be the least bit impressed.”

  Seconds later, Verity was proved right. The kids heard Hannah erupt in a long howl of outraged protest. They both cringed at the unmistakable sound of the first whack, followed by Hannah’s anguished yell.

  “Ow, gosh, I bet that hurts,” said Verity nervously. “Granny’s never given me more than a smack, you know. Neither has anyone else, actually.”

  Eric had tears welling up in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Verity. I’ve let you and your gran down, ‘aven’t I?”

  “Chin up, Eric,” Verity tried to sound braver than she felt, and she nudged him affectionately with an elbow. “It’s not the end of the world, silly.”

  “It don’t ‘alf sound like it, though, dunnit?” Eric said morosely, jerking his head in the direction of the cries echoing from the kitchen.

  Then, suddenly, it was over, and Hannah’s wails trailed off into piteous weeping. Verity was not sympathetic. “Imagine Hannah trying to weasel out of it, leaving us to face the music. I’m glad Granny walloped the daylights out of her, the rotten little sneak.”

  The kitchen door opened, and both kids jumped up in anxious anticipation. Hannah walked unsteadily into the hall, her eyes fixed on the floor, and she wiped fiercely at her tear-streaked face. Behind her stood a grim-faced Mrs. Devenish, who beckoned to Eric and said tersely, “You’re next.”

  At a snail’s pace, Eric miserably shuffled after her into the kitchen. The door closed once again. In silence, Verity sullenly watched Hannah, who now stood holding onto her bottom with both hands. Her face was screwed up in pain, her eyes were shut, and her forehead was pressed against the wall.

  “Stop staring at me,” said Hannah, irritably, opening one eye and returning Verity’s gaze. “That was total torture. And I’ve never been so embarrassed in my whole life.”

  “Don’t expect me to feel sorry for you,” said Verity furiously. “At least you got it over with first. And we heard what you said to Granny. That was a disgusting thing to do.”

  “I don’t care,” Hannah shouted. “It was Eric’s idea, and you guys made me go. I kept telling you it was a totally dumb idea. I hate you, I hate Eric, and I totally hate her. I’m going home.” Stiffly, and with as much dignity as she could muster, Hannah took her coat and hat from the hooks in the hall, and left the house through the front door.

  Slowly and painfully, Hannah was walking along the road into the center of Balesworth, when a car pulled up alongside her. Startled, she stepped well away, looking at it suspiciously. She was afraid that it was a stranger, and even more afraid that it was Mrs. Devenish. But another familiar face and voice called to her.

  “Hannah, it’s me!” said the driver.

  It w
as the Professor.

  “Hop in, and I’ll give you a ride home.”

  “No, thanks, I’m walking,” said Hannah haughtily.

  “Why? Whatever’s the matter?” the Professor asked innocently, as she slowly drove alongside.

  “What’s the matter?” Hannah said through clenched teeth, then raised her voice to be heard over the car engine. “Okay, lady, I’ll tell you what the matter is. You know what? I can’t sit down. You know why? Because, thanks to you, I’m in England, it’s 1940, and the scariest woman who ever walked the planet just took a belt to my bare butt. Have you got any idea how I feel right now?”

  “Rather sore, I imagine,” said the Professor with an amused smile.

  Hannah stared at her. “Are you actually enjoying this? God, you are so mean. And you told me and Alex we wouldn’t get hurt.”

  The Professor waved a finger at her. “No, not so. I told you that I know you’ll all go home, and in one piece. Well, probably in one piece.”

  “Great,” scowled Hannah. “Any more good news ?”

  “Since you asked, yes. I suspect that you are very close to finding George Braithwaite. If I were you, I would keep in close contact with your Mrs. Devenish over the next week or so.”

  “You have got to be kidding,” said Hannah, fuming. “Don’t you get what I’m saying? Do you really think I could look that woman in the face again?”

  But the Professor was smiling and shaking her head. She stopped the car. “Come on, get in. Look, you can sit on this. It’s nice and soft.”

  She held up a sheepskin, which she folded onto the passenger seat. Hannah thought about it for a second, and then opened the car door. Carefully, she sat down, wincing, and was surprised to discover that the sheepskin did help. The Professor started the car again.

  “Hannah, try to understand. Mrs. D. didn’t want to spank all of you. And I am quite certain she had to pour herself a stiff drink afterwards. But you must realize that she thinks what you kids did today was hugely damaging, to her and to you. She believes she had a duty to see that you’re punished, and she wants to save all of you from worse fates than anything she could inflict.”

  “Oh, please,” said Hannah disparagingly, as she looked out of the window, her arms folded in front of her.

  “Listen. This is England in the fall of 1940. Despite the war, people are hoping and planning that life will go on, and this is a place where respectability is still terribly important. Mrs. D. worries that Eric, a working-class boy with so much potential, will get a bad reputation and even a criminal record. That could harm his chances of gaining admission to the boys’ grammar school next year. If he doesn’t go there, she believes, he doesn’t stand a chance of a decent life. And Verity could be expelled from her private school if it were ever found out that she had been involved in vandalism, which might ruin her chances of going to Cambridge University. Mrs. D. knows that would be a huge disappointment to her granddaughter.”

  “Fine, whatever, but what about me? I’m not her kid,” said Hannah, sticking out her lower lip.

  “Well, Mrs. D. either had to punish you herself, or she had to inform the Archers,” said the Professor, swerving to avoid running over a little hedgehog crossing the road. “She believes that the Archers would have been outraged if the police were called to their home on account of you, and I think she’s right. A lot of people are looking for an excuse to get rid of their evacuees. You quite likely would be sent to a hostel for misbehaving kids. Oh, yes, there is such a thing. It would not, I assure you, be a pleasant place to live.”

  “But it’s not fair,” Hannah grumbled, her chin trembling. “It was Eric’s idea to go to the house, Eric broke the window, and they both made me go along with them.”

  “Made you?” asked the Professor, with a knowing smile. “How exactly did they do that?”

  The sun was setting, and Hannah stared at the passing hedgerows. The Professor continued.

  “You know, what the three of you did will also make it awkward for Mrs. D. to investigate George’s whereabouts. Not to mention that she now feels obliged to a very annoying local policeman, because he offered to keep quiet about what you guys got up to.”

  “But why didn’t she just tell us?” said Hannah, with feeling. “She could have explained. We would have got it. She didn’t have to whip us.”

  “Mrs. D. doesn’t think like the adults in your world, or at least like the adults in your world tell you that they think. In her world, unlike ours, almost everyone says it’s fine to spank children now and then, but it is not considered a good idea to burden kids with grown-up worries. So Mrs. D. reckons that kids are kids, and her two only needed a simple lesson today: If they misbehave to the extent that the police are called, she will whip them. She hopes they will learn their lesson so she never has to repeat it. As for you… well, actually, you’re right in one way. You are a different case… Look, I’ll tell you the whole truth, but I’m warning you, you might not like it.

  “As I said, Mrs. Devenish was worried about what would happen if your misbehavior was reported to the Archers. Even so, since your upbringing is not really her responsibility, she figured she would just give you a bit of a scare, tell you off, and send you home. It didn’t work out that way, as you know. She was tired and stressed, and when you whined, and tried to lay all the blame on Verity and Eric, she lost her temper. Big time.”

  Hannah was scandalized. “So I got whipped because she was in a bad mood? That is so wrong. I mean… Just who does this woman think she is?”

  She was taken aback when the Professor replied angrily, her voice rising. “Mrs. Devenish is a grown-up in England in 1940, an important member of her community, and an ordinary human being. That’s who she thinks she is, Hannah. And I hate to tell you this, kid, but, no, this didn’t happen just because she was angry at that one moment. She is really fed up to the back teeth with your snotty attitude. She tried to let you off with a scolding this afternoon, but you wouldn’t let her get a word in. You prattled on, making excuses and ducking blame, until she suddenly realized that if she didn’t teach you a lesson, nobody would. Mrs. D., like most women of this time, thinks differently from the adults who have raised you: She doesn’t hold much with trying to analyze the causes of your bad behavior, or with questioning her own judgments. And her judgment was that you’re a spoiled brat who’s long overdue for a spanking…” The Professor added quickly, “In her opinion, that is. Not necessarily mine, of course.”

  Hannah scowled, but she was surprised to realize that she was very hurt by this news. She thought: That’s it? Mrs. D. just thinks I’m a brat? She stared out of the window, and tried not to cry.

  “Sorry, Hannah. That was a little harsh of me,” said the Professor quietly, looking uncomfortable. She patted Hannah’s hand. “I understand why you’re confused, dear,” she said carefully. “Nothing in your life has prepared you for being in England in 1940. So let me ask you something that might help: You may not care for Mrs. D’s values or her way with children, but do you really hate her? Truth?”

  Hannah sighed heavily, and stared at the dashboard for several seconds. Then she shook her head. “No,” she said reluctantly, with a cross look.

  “Well, now, you’ve said it. Doesn’t that feel better? I know it’s difficult for you to deal with the fact that you’ve become fond of this complicated woman who is not at all demonstrative with her affections, and who is all too demonstrative when she’s angry. But she has her own way of showing her concern, and I think it’s worth your while to try to understand her. I mean, I don’t know if you have thought about this, but Mrs. D. has been trying to help you find George, and, not incidentally, to reach out to you, despite your behavior. Oh, and when she decided to punish you along with her own kids, it wasn’t all bad.”

  Hannah snorted in disbelief, but the Professor continued. “No, it wasn’t, I’m serious. That’s because, you see, at that moment, she was also deciding to take you under her wing. Despite her anger and frustr
ation, Mrs. D. does care what happens to you, Hannah.”

  The rain began to fall heavily, and the Professor pulled over into a wide spot at the side of the road, switching off the engine, which ground into silence. Hannah stared at the water running down the windshield, as it threw shadows onto her legs. At the same time, tears were trickling down her cheeks.

  “It might surprise you to know,” the Professor said slowly, “that most of the time, Mrs. D.’s thoughts are not on you, or Eric or Verity, or her daughters in London. She is preoccupied with the war. The adults all across Britain are putting on a brave face for the children, but the stress is tremendous. Mrs. D’s horrified by the Blitz, by all those bombs dropping on London, and she’s frightened that the Germans will invade any day now. We all know in our own time exactly what happened to the countries that Germany invaded, all the people murdered and imprisoned and tortured in concentration camps, but even in 1940, everyone in Britain knows that it would be horrific.

  “The British would like to believe their prime minister, when Mr. Churchill tells them they will fight German soldiers in the streets if it comes to that.

  “But most adults know, deep inside, that they have no idea, really, what they will do if Nazi soldiers come to their front doors. Mrs. D. is doing her best to stay calm, and to do everything she can for you children.

  “You know, Hannah, Mrs. D. is quite a remarkable woman. She is very well regarded in Balesworth, even though people find her a bit daunting. She’s tough because she’s had to be. She has had a hard life, you know. She lost her husband to the fighting in the First World War. She was a widow when she was not yet thirty, with two daughters to raise alone. But she moved in with her mother so she could reduce her expenses and volunteer as a nurse. Don’t be embarrassed that you like and respect her, even after what happened today. Even though she’s prickly, she has a good heart, and lots of people admire her for it. I mean, just look at Eric! He’s devoted to her, isn’t he? He’s like a little puppy, following her around.”