Secrets and Shadows Read Online Free Page B

though that explained everything. When Grace was slow in responding he elaborated a little awkwardly. ‘My eh…my grandma sent me. Your granddad invited me.’
    ‘Oh. Right. Well, come in, so,’ said Grace.
    He nodded and stepped into the hall. Grace led the way back into the kitchen.
    ‘Granddad, this is Barry.’
    ‘Ah, Barry, you’re welcome, son,’ said her grandfather, rising and shaking the boy’s hand. ‘This is the lad I was telling you about, Freddie, Mrs Malone’s grandson, from Liverpool.’
    ‘Oh right,’ said Freddie. ‘Now I have you.’ He turned back tothe boy and nodded. ‘Good man yourself.’
    ‘And this is Grace’s mother,’ said Granddad, ‘Mrs Ryan.’
    ‘How do you do, Mrs Ryan,’ said the boy, politely shaking hands.
    ‘I forgot to mention to you, Nancy, that Mrs Malone has Barry here staying for a bit,’ said Granddad. ‘She thought himself and Grace might be company for each other.’
    ‘Great,’ said Ma, ‘that would be nice.’
    Grace felt annoyed that this had been set up and nobody had told her. And now they were talking about her like she wasn’t here. She wanted to say something that wouldn’t be quite rude, but that would let them know that she could make her own friends. Before she got a chance, Granddad pointed to the front room.
    ‘Why don’t you bring Barry into the parlour and play the gramophone for him?’ he suggested.
    ‘OK.’
    Her grandfather had a big Pye gramophone of which he was proud, and Grace thought that playing a few records wasn’t such a bad idea, and would be easier than being sent out to play with a boy she didn’t know.
    ‘Would you like a scone first, Barry?’ said Ma.
    ‘No thanks, we’ve just had tea,’ he answered.
    ‘Right, in you go, so,’ said Granddad nodding towards the parlour.
    Grace led the way, and the boy followed her wordlessly into the front room. He closed the door, then looked at Grace.
    ‘They never told you I was coming?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘I thought it was all arranged.’ The way he said it, it sounded like a complaint, but Grace felt that she was the one with the right to complain.
    ‘It
was
arranged,’ she retorted. ‘They just didn’t bother telling me.’
    ‘Right. Well, seeing as we’re here, what records have you got?’
    His accent was different to the posh English accents that Grace heard on the radio when Ma listened to the BBC, and his voice seemed to go down at the end of sentences, in a way that Grace found a little strange.
    ‘I don’t have any records,’ she answered, ‘these all belong to Granddad and Uncle Freddie.’
    Barry had already begun to sift through the records, reading the artists’ names from the printed sleeves.
    ‘God, I believe you,’ he said.
    ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
    ‘It’s old people’s music, isn’t it? “The Bluebell Polka”? “The Gondoliers”? ‘Brass Band Favourites”?”
    Even though these
were
old fashioned, Grace felt obliged to defend Granddad. ‘There’s good stuff too. “Over the Rainbow” is a great song,’ she said, indicating the record sleeve with its picture of Judy Garland.
    ‘Yeah, that one’s good,’ said Barry.
    ‘And “Red Sails in the Sunset” is good too.’
    ‘It’s not bad. But in Liverpool we get lots of ships from America– so we know all the latest stuff.’
    ‘Really?’ said Grace, slightly irked by the way he made himself sound superior. ‘What’s so great about the latest stuff from America?’
    ‘It’s just brilliant. I heard the record of Glen Miller doing “In the Mood” before it was even played on the radio.’
    ‘Yeah?’
    ‘And Louis Armstrong with “When the Saints go Marching in”.’ And Gene Autry. Have you heard him singing “Blueberry Hill”?”
    ‘No – but I’ve walked up Christchurch Hill.’
    It was a smart answer, but Grace had become a bit fed up with Barry’s boasting. To her surprise he smiled briefly at her retort.
    ‘OK,’ he replied. ‘I’m just