OPâs â Other Peopleâs â which was also one of Granddadâs favourite brands.
âWell, speak of the devil,â said Mrs C, who was a bit of a wag.
âGâday, Mrs Carruthers. Gâday, Mrs Hutchinson. Mum, Iâm just off to Charlesâs place for a while. Then I thought Iâd visit Granddad for the night, if thatâs okay.â
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.
âHow is your grandfather these days? Still gettinâ up to mischief?â she asked.
I didnât know which particular piece of mischief she was talking about, but I knew the correct reply.
âYeah.â
âTell him I said hello, love,â she said. âTell him I said not to be a stranger.â
I nodded and left. Everyone in the street knew Mrs C was keen on Granddad, but I donât 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.
âGeez, whereâd ya get âem?â he asked me with a look that was worth ten bob.
âFound âem.â
âWhere?â
âDown the tip.â
âWow, someone threw âem away. What a dill!â
âOne born every day,â I agreed.
Formalities out of the way, we settled down to the business of making money with his paint set.
âSo,â said Charles, once weâd got our production line going, âdidja hear about the murder?â
âWhat murder?â
Â
I went to stay at Granddadâs 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, sheâd 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 hadnât, well, he had Blarney Barney working for him, and he was the kind of bloke whoâd do anything for me, not that Iâd ask him, though Granddad might. I took the tram up to Granddadâs street. In the old days, Tom and me always went to Granddadâs 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 â though itâs all a blank to me â and Mum and Dr Dunnett banned me from riding. So my bike â and Tomâs â sit in the dark in Dadâs motorbike shed, waiting for me to take them for a spin around the block when no oneâs looking.
When I got to his place Granddad wasnât home. I could wait for him inside, of course â I knew where he hid his key â 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 didnât think that was proper, and after Nanna died she still didnât 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 didnât seem to notice. She was definitely one of the nicestpeople I knew, and took my brotherâs death harder than most of the people in the family.
I knocked on Mrs Mâs door and yelled âHello!â so she wouldnât 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