“Listen, Donny, I’m telling you. It’s somewhere here,” he said. “From this telegraph pole, all the way back to the mouth of the tunnel.”
“Quick!” hissed Edie. It was too late to climb back over the fence, but there was a little bush beside them. She shoved Gus hard, pushing him behind it and crouched down too. Peering through the tangled branches, she could see Len marching up and down the edge of the railway line with his head bent. A moment later his brother Donny appeared too, and they both began to pace together.
“What are they doing?” mouthed Gus.
“I think they’re looking for something,” she said, leaning towards him to whisper in his ear. She was crouching on her haunches and almost lost her balance as she shifted her weight. She put a hand out to steady herself and a bird shot up into the air, squawking. Edie was so startled, she screamed before she could stop herself. As she leapt back in surprise, she lost her balance completely and went tumbling down the steep bank, rolling over and over, thumping and bumping towards the railway line below.
“Ouch!” She came to a sudden stop as her tumbling body smacked into Len Snigson’s big black boots.
“Well, well!” he said, sucking the words through his teeth so it sounded almost as if he was smacking his lips together. “If it ain’t the little London rat. You keep turning up like a bad penny.”
“I’m not a rat,” said Edie, trying to struggle up on to her hands and knees. How dare he talk to her like that? First he’d told her she had lice and now he was calling her a rat.
“’Course you’re a rat,” said Len. He made no effort to help her up. “Tell her why, Donny.”
“I dunno!” His brother just shrugged and stood by looking stupid.
Len sighed. “Rats spy on folk, see. Rats poke about, sticking their greasy little snouts in where they’re not wanted.”
“That’s right!” agreed Donny, picking up his brother’s theme at last. The two of them were circling round her, as if she really were a rat and they were yapping terriers determined not to let her escape from a trap.
“Leave her alone!” Gus came charging down the bank behind them.
“A pair o’ rats, eh?” Len spat on the rails. “Both spying on us, were you?”
“Honestly, we weren’t,” said Edie as Gus leapt to her side. “We were just… ” She wished they weren’t wearing their pyjamas and dressing gowns. That made thinking of excuses rather hard.
“Just what?” laughed Donny.
“We came to watch the trains,” she said firmly. “And now, if you don’t mind, we’ll just go home for breakfast.”
She grabbed Gus’s sleeve and took two big steps up the bank.
“Ha!” Len let out a snort. “Run along, then. If I see your aunty, I’ll tell her you were out at the crack of dawn. She’d want to know.”
“That’s right. Bairns shouldn’t be running around in their ’jamas,” added Donny.
“Fine, you tell her,” said Edie, but her legs were shaking. She knew Aunt Roberta would be horrified if she knew they’d been out there half the night.
“Leave it,” whispered Gus. He was the one tugging her sleeve now.
But Edie spun around again. “I just wonder what it is you’re hiding, that’s all,” she said, staring down on the Snigsons from the safety of the bank.
“We’re not hiding nowt,” said Donny, scratching his head. Len kicked him.
“Shut up! We don’t have to say anything to them. They’re only kids.”
“Of course you’re hiding something,” said Edie boldly. She climbed up on to the top of the fence. “Only people who are hiding something worry that they are being spied on.”
Then, without waiting for an answer, she jumped down from the fence and walked up the hill to Three Chimneys.
“I’m warning you,” hollered Len. “Keep your nose out of our business. Or I’ll teach you a lesson you’ll never forget.”
When the children got home, they found Aunt Roberta had already left for the hospital.
Uncle Peter was sitting at the kitchen table while Greta spooned mountains of sugar on top of her porridge, as if she’d never heard of rationing. Uncle Peter didn’t seem to notice. He barely even noticed that they had come in.
“We went for a walk,” said Gus hastily.
“In your pyjamas,” Greta giggled. “That’s silly.”
Gus glared at her as he ladled porridge into bowls for him and Edie. But Uncle Peter didn’t even look over. He was still wearing his pyjamas too.
Edie accidentally dropped her spoon on the floor with a clatter and he jumped.
“Sorry,” she said as he sloshed hot black coffee all over the table. He looked up in utter confusion, and, for a terrible moment, Edie thought he was going to cry. “Here, let me get that.” She grabbed a cloth and wiped up the spill.
“I think I might go to my workshop,” he said. But he didn’t move.
“Good idea. We’ll go for a walk,” said Edie quickly. “We’ll take Greta, if you like.” She knew how much she wanted to be alone sometimes, and it seemed Uncle Peter might be best left in peace.
“You’ve just been for a walk,” said Greta.
“And now we’re going for another one,” said Gus firmly. “And you’re coming with us.”
He and Edie bolted down their porridge and hurried upstairs to get dressed.
When Edie came down again, Uncle Peter was standing in the hall, holding a battered leather case on a strap.
“You wanted these,” he said, opening the lid to show a pair of field glasses.
“The binoculars,” said Edie. “Thank you.” She didn’t even know he had remembered her asking, but they’d be more useful than ever now. After what they had overheard the Snigsons saying this morning, she was in no doubt whatsoever that the brothers were up to no good. She’d love to find them digging up a barrel of stolen whisky beside the railway
