is, and all that. And he quizzed me about Mum too. She works in a factory making aeroplane parts – he was dead keen to know where the factory is.’
‘Right.’
‘And there was one other thing, though maybe it’s nothing,’ said Barry.
‘What?’ asked Grace, fascinated.
‘I asked him what football team he followed. He said it was a local team I wouldn’t know, but when I asked more he said he grew up in Danzig.’
‘So?’
‘Mr Pawlek is supposed to be Polish. I looked up Danzig, and it’s a Free City that’s surrounded by Poland all right. But it used to be in Germany. Polish people call it
Gdansk
, but the German name is
Danzig
– and that’s what he called it.’
‘God,’ said Grace again, her pulses racing a little. ‘Maybe he really is a spy.’
Barry made a face. ‘Or maybe he’s just a drill teacher who’s interested in ships.’
‘But what if he
is
a spy?’ said Grace, part of her wanting the more adventurous explanation.
‘Then I can’t let him away with it. But if I say it to my grandmaor anyone else they won’t believe me.’
‘Why don’t we check him out? Then if we got proof we could go to the police.’
‘Would you be on for that?’ asked Barry.
‘Of course! We’re friends, aren’t we? And he’s the enemy if he’s spying on your family for the Nazis!’
Barry looked at her approvingly, and Grace could see that he was pleased to have an ally.
‘We won’t say anything to anyone,’ said Grace, ‘but Mr Pawlek will be our mission. And if he’s a spy we’ll catch him out!’ She held out her hand to Barry. ‘Agreed?’
‘Agreed!’
Strong sunlight shone through the church’s stained-glass windows, colouring the altar with beautiful bands of red, green and blue light. The lingering smell of incense scented the air as the choir sang the final hymn of the Mass, and although Barry wasn’t especially religious, this morning he felt uplifted. He was in good spirits to begin with, yesterday having been a rewarding day. He had been glad when Grace had called in to make things up, and in addition to their friendship being back on track he had also received an exciting letter from his mother. Apart from all the usual news from Liverpool, there had been two great developments. Firstly, he had been given permission to attend the sports camp, and secondly,Mum had managed to bring her summer holidays forward, and would be visiting Dublin in July.
So things were definitely looking up, with the one exception of his suspicions about Mr Pawlek. And even that situation felt less like a worry and more like an adventure now that he had shared it with Grace, especially since she was eager to check out the drill teacher. The first step was likely to be taken in the next couple of minutes, Barry suspected, as he followed Grandma out of their pew in the church, having already spotted both Grace and Mr Pawlek in the congregation.
They all came out of the garrison chapel into the warm June sunshine, the Mass-goers mingling on the church steps and on the gravel driveway.
‘Good morning, Mrs Malone,’ said Mr Pawlek, as he approached them. ‘Good morning, Barry.’
‘Morning, sir,’ answered Barry, feeling an illogical sense of guilt, even though Mr Pawlek couldn’t possibly have known that Barry had discussed him with Grace.
‘Mr Pawlek,’ said Grandma. ‘Beautiful morning, thank God.’
‘Yes, beautiful. And a lovely Mass; the choir sang very well.’
‘Didn’t they?’ said Grandma, and Barry could see that the teacher’s comments had won the approval of his devout grandmother.
Was that a deliberate tactic, the kind of thing that a spy would automatically do to win people’s trust?
‘And thank you for Thursday,’ she added, ‘Barry really enjoyed the trip to Cobh.’
‘Good,’ said Mr Pawlek, turning to look Barry in the eye. ‘Interesting place, isn’t it?’
He couldn’t know he had been spotted taking pictures at the harbour, could he?
Barry
‘Right.’
‘And there was one other thing, though maybe it’s nothing,’ said Barry.
‘What?’ asked Grace, fascinated.
‘I asked him what football team he followed. He said it was a local team I wouldn’t know, but when I asked more he said he grew up in Danzig.’
‘So?’
‘Mr Pawlek is supposed to be Polish. I looked up Danzig, and it’s a Free City that’s surrounded by Poland all right. But it used to be in Germany. Polish people call it
Gdansk
, but the German name is
Danzig
– and that’s what he called it.’
‘God,’ said Grace again, her pulses racing a little. ‘Maybe he really is a spy.’
Barry made a face. ‘Or maybe he’s just a drill teacher who’s interested in ships.’
‘But what if he
is
a spy?’ said Grace, part of her wanting the more adventurous explanation.
‘Then I can’t let him away with it. But if I say it to my grandmaor anyone else they won’t believe me.’
‘Why don’t we check him out? Then if we got proof we could go to the police.’
‘Would you be on for that?’ asked Barry.
‘Of course! We’re friends, aren’t we? And he’s the enemy if he’s spying on your family for the Nazis!’
Barry looked at her approvingly, and Grace could see that he was pleased to have an ally.
‘We won’t say anything to anyone,’ said Grace, ‘but Mr Pawlek will be our mission. And if he’s a spy we’ll catch him out!’ She held out her hand to Barry. ‘Agreed?’
‘Agreed!’
Strong sunlight shone through the church’s stained-glass windows, colouring the altar with beautiful bands of red, green and blue light. The lingering smell of incense scented the air as the choir sang the final hymn of the Mass, and although Barry wasn’t especially religious, this morning he felt uplifted. He was in good spirits to begin with, yesterday having been a rewarding day. He had been glad when Grace had called in to make things up, and in addition to their friendship being back on track he had also received an exciting letter from his mother. Apart from all the usual news from Liverpool, there had been two great developments. Firstly, he had been given permission to attend the sports camp, and secondly,Mum had managed to bring her summer holidays forward, and would be visiting Dublin in July.
So things were definitely looking up, with the one exception of his suspicions about Mr Pawlek. And even that situation felt less like a worry and more like an adventure now that he had shared it with Grace, especially since she was eager to check out the drill teacher. The first step was likely to be taken in the next couple of minutes, Barry suspected, as he followed Grandma out of their pew in the church, having already spotted both Grace and Mr Pawlek in the congregation.
They all came out of the garrison chapel into the warm June sunshine, the Mass-goers mingling on the church steps and on the gravel driveway.
‘Good morning, Mrs Malone,’ said Mr Pawlek, as he approached them. ‘Good morning, Barry.’
‘Morning, sir,’ answered Barry, feeling an illogical sense of guilt, even though Mr Pawlek couldn’t possibly have known that Barry had discussed him with Grace.
‘Mr Pawlek,’ said Grandma. ‘Beautiful morning, thank God.’
‘Yes, beautiful. And a lovely Mass; the choir sang very well.’
‘Didn’t they?’ said Grandma, and Barry could see that the teacher’s comments had won the approval of his devout grandmother.
Was that a deliberate tactic, the kind of thing that a spy would automatically do to win people’s trust?
‘And thank you for Thursday,’ she added, ‘Barry really enjoyed the trip to Cobh.’
‘Good,’ said Mr Pawlek, turning to look Barry in the eye. ‘Interesting place, isn’t it?’
He couldn’t know he had been spotted taking pictures at the harbour, could he?
Barry
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