Читать книгу Amber’s Secret - Ann Pilling - Страница 11

5

When she got back she saw Mrs Spinks outside the front door, bending over Mum’s tubs with a watering can. ‘Is that mouse back in its cage, Sally?’ she said, as she came up the path. ‘I think I’d better come in and check round. I did look through the hall window, but I see you’ve shut the curtains. Why?’

‘Well, because of burglars, Mrs Spinks,’ said Sally.

Mrs Spinks narrowed her eyes suspiciously. ‘Mmm. . .’ she muttered. ‘If you promise to keep that mouse out of my way, I’ll come in with you.’

Sally thought very rapidly. ‘He’s still out, Mrs Spinks, and – I know it’s awful – but I’ve a feeling there might be other mice in our house, the brown kind. Mum finds droppings. She was thinking of getting a cat.’

Mrs Spinks shivered and picked up her watering can. ‘I’ll get back to doing the dinner,’ she said. ‘If you ask me, your mother should get the rat man in. Don’t be long now, and mind you shut all the bedroom doors.’

‘Yes, Mrs Spinks.’ Sally wheeled her bicycle round to the shed, then came back to the front of the house and let herself in.

She walked straight past Grandfather, not stopping to look for signs of William. Instead she went down the hall that led to the kitchen, picked up the telephone and asked the lady to try Appleford 616.

After quite a few rings, someone answered. It wasn’t the Paradise person and it wasn’t the rude man who’d said ‘damn’. It was a very old and creaky voice, a voice full of puffings and wheezings and it said, ‘Appleford 616. To whom am I speaking?’

Sally’s heart thumped. Then she plucked up her courage and said, ‘This is Sally Bell here, I live at The Cedars, Villa Road, Broadfield. I am the daughter of Professor Thomas Bell and Mrs Ruth Bell. My father’s Abroad and my brother’s doing his National Service and Mum’s in hospital and I have a really terrible problem—’

‘I see.’ There was a pause, then the creaking voice said, ‘In what way can I help you, Sally Bell?’

Though it was the voice of a lady, and Sally had always imagined that God was a man, she felt encouraged because it sounded quite kind. So after a minute she said, ‘Well, I was given your number by my friend Amber. She said that if you rang this number you could speak to God. She hadn’t tried it herself because she said it was only for emergencies. Well, this is an emergency.’

The creaky old-lady voice said nothing to any of this. There were just a lot of wheezings. Sally waited, then she said, ‘Hello, are you still there?’

‘Yes, I’m still here, Sally Bell. Could you repeat what your friend told you, please? I’m a little hard of hearing.’

‘She said that if you rang Appleford 616 you could speak to God.’

‘I see.’ There was another long pause, and more wheezings.

‘So is God there?’ Sally said. ‘I really would like to speak to him.’ Then she added, ‘Please.’

‘The person you refer to,’ said the voice, ‘does indeed live here. But he is in hospital, I’m afraid, like your mother.’

Now it was Sally’s turn to pause. How could someone like God be in hospital, or even have illnesses? There must be some mistake. ‘So I can’t speak to him?’ she said.

‘I’m afraid not.’

Sally took the telephone away from her mouth and sat holding it, on the kitchen top. She didn’t know what to do. All she could think of were the tiny little pieces of wood and glass that had been Grandfather, and of her mother opening the front door, and seeing them. The person who was called God was not available to help her. Sally began to cry.

She cried for a quite a long time. This crying kept on happening and she knew that it was because she was worrying more and more about Mum. Sally wasn’t a cryer, not like some people. She was certain the lady would have replaced her telephone by now, which would be just as well, because she could be no help. But when she reached up to put the phone back, too, she could just hear the creaky voice saying anxiously, ‘Little girl, little girl, please don’t cry.’

‘I’m not crying,’ Sally said, then she added, ‘now,’ for she was always truthful (the bit about the mouse droppings was true, though it had happened a long time ago, and only once or twice).

‘Would you be able to come to see me?’ the lady continued. ‘The person you wanted is too ill to be contacted at present but I just might be able to help.’

‘Is it near?’ Sally said. She had promised Mum she would stay with Mrs Spinks and not go anywhere big without her permission.

‘From the end of Villa Road you could get the number Nineteen bus. Stay on for three stops and when you see the Appleford sign get off. My house is by the bus stop. It has a blue door.’

Sally looked at the kitchen clock. Mrs Spinks served dinner at one o’clock on the dot. But if the bus came quickly she might get there and back and not be late.

But ought she to go at all? She had been told never ever to talk to strange people and this was worse than talking to them. This was going to their house, on a bus.

She had decided she must say no when the creaky voice said, ‘Is your father an archaeologist, Sally? Does he dig up strange and wonderful things?’

‘Yes,’ Sally said. He was quite famous but to Sally and Alan he was just Dad.

‘He was once a little boy at my school. He was very good at sums and very bad at singing.’

‘He can’t sing in tune,’ Sally said. Then she added loyally, ‘But you can’t be good at everything.’

‘It would be best if you came now, Sally,’ said the lady. ‘I like to have my lunch on time, at one. Then I like to have a little rest.’

‘I’ll come at once,’ Sally said. What the voice had said about lunch on time was the only bit which reminded her at all of Mrs Spinks.