The Cartographer

Read The Cartographer for Free Online

Book: Read The Cartographer for Free Online
Authors: Peter Twohig
OP’s — Other People’s — which was also one of Granddad’s favourite brands.
    â€˜Well, speak of the devil,’ said Mrs C, who was a bit of a wag.
    â€˜G’day, Mrs Carruthers. G’day, Mrs Hutchinson. Mum, I’m just off to Charles’s place for a while. Then I thought I’d visit Granddad for the night, if that’s okay.’
    Mum just nodded, and gave me one of those smiles that has no smile behind it. Mrs H gave me one of her special tired looks, the one that means: What, are you still here? Only Mrs C seemed to be in the mood for a chat.
    â€˜How is your grandfather these days? Still gettin’ up to mischief?’ she asked.
    I didn’t know which particular piece of mischief she was talking about, but I knew the correct reply.
    â€˜Yeah.’
    â€˜Tell him I said hello, love,’ she said. ‘Tell him I said not to be a stranger.’
    I nodded and left. Everyone in the street knew Mrs C was keen on Granddad, but I don’t think anyone knew about his next-door neighbour, Mrs Morgan. The air seemed to be pushing at me again, so I turned and let it guide me out.
    Charles was happy to see me, but even happier to see the money stamps.
    â€˜Geez, where’d ya get ’em?’ he asked me with a look that was worth ten bob.
    â€˜Found ’em.’
    â€˜Where?’
    â€˜Down the tip.’
    â€˜Wow, someone threw ’em away. What a dill!’
    â€˜One born every day,’ I agreed.
    Formalities out of the way, we settled down to the business of making money with his paint set.
    â€˜So,’ said Charles, once we’d got our production line going, ‘didja hear about the murder?’
    â€˜What murder?’
    Â 
    I went to stay at Granddad’s place for the night. Mum had given up caring where I went or what I did, and I was worried that the murderer was going to get me at any tick of the clock. If I was with Mum, she’d be no help at all and would probably end up getting killed as well. But there was another reason I wanted to see Granddad. I reckoned there was an even chance that Granddad might have heard something on the grapevine, whatever that was. And if he hadn’t, well, he had Blarney Barney working for him, and he was the kind of bloke who’d do anything for me, not that I’d ask him, though Granddad might. I took the tram up to Granddad’s street. In the old days, Tom and me always went to Granddad’s on our bikes, but not long after the turns started, I had a bad bike crash with a fat lady who was coming out of the post office — though it’s all a blank to me — and Mum and Dr Dunnett banned me from riding. So my bike — and Tom’s — sit in the dark in Dad’s motorbike shed, waiting for me to take them for a spin around the block when no one’s looking.
    When I got to his place Granddad wasn’t home. I could wait for him inside, of course — I knew where he hid his key — but I had a pretty good idea where he might be. I knew that in his spare time Granddad often went next door to be with his best friend, Mrs Morgan. I had known her all my life, and had always thought it would be a good idea to call her Aunty Vera, but while Nanna was alive she didn’t think that was proper, and after Nanna died she still didn’t think it was proper, though I sensed that it had nothing to do with Nanna. But Mrs Morgan was one of the closest pretend relatives I had, so I often forgot and called her Aunty Vera by mistake, and she didn’t seem to notice. She was definitely one of the nicestpeople I knew, and took my brother’s death harder than most of the people in the family.
    I knocked on Mrs M’s door and yelled ‘Hello!’ so she wouldn’t have a heart attack when I walked in on her. She called to me to come in, and I found her and Granddad in the living room, sitting in the lounge chairs and having a sherbet, which is

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