Mike Shayne Mystery Magazine, Vol. 1, No. 1, May 1957 (British Edition)

The Secret Secret Secret by De Forbes

Two little girls in school were they — teacher’s pet and teacher’s problem. And only one of them had...

Katherine had a marvellous new secret, all her own, a delicious, dark secret that she hugged tightly to her heart. She promised herself that she would never so much as whisper it to anyone else — not even if she had a best friend as pretty as Peggy Beal. It was Katherine’s secret secret, and it belonged only to her.

Besides, Peggy Beal was a secret-teller. She was always tossing her yellow curls and taking the arm of some other little girl. “I’ve got a secret to tell you,” she would whisper loudly, and they would run off to some corner of the play-yard, their arms around each other. There, Peggy would talk, while looking over her shoulder to make certain no one was listening. “And that everyone was watching.” added Katherine to herself.

But Katherine had never been invited to share Peggy’s secrets. She certainly didn’t intend to tell Peggy hers. Not even if Peggy begged her to tell, she wouldn’t. Stuck-up Peggy Beal, with all her different coloured hair-ribbons, and her shiny shoes with straps. Stuck-up Peggy Beal, with her round blue eyes, and her squiggly-wiggly curls.

Wouldn’t stuck-up Peggy just die, if she knew that Katherine had found a secret place — where she could hide and listen. Where Katherine could hear every word — anytime she wanted to — that the teachers of Horace Man Elementary School said to each other. Wouldn’t Peggy Beal just die if she knew?

Katherine had found it quite by accident. It was the day to pay milk money, and Katherine had spent part of hers on the way to school. The nearer it came to the time to pay, the worse Katherine felt. Finally, she turned red and hot in the face and cold and wet on the head.

“You’d better go home, Katherine,” said Miss Page when she told her. “Can you go alone, or would you like to lie down in the nurse’s office, until someone can take you?”

Katherine looked slowly around the room. Fifty-eight eyes were looking at her. That was twice 29 — she had figured it out by sub-tracting herself from 30 and multiplying by two eyes. Peggy Beal lived near her house, but she was sure Peggy would never walk her home, not even if she was dying.

“If Peggy would walk me home...” Katherine was surprised at how weak and sick her own voice sounded.

Miss Page looked a question at Peggy, who said loftily, “I’m sorry, Miss Page.” The dimple in Peggy’s cheek went in and out. “I’m not going home to lunch to-day.”

“Oh dear!” said Miss Page.

“That’s all right, Miss Page,” said Katherine. “I’ll call my mother, and she’ll send the maid to meet me.” Katherine was certain Miss Page didn’t know there was no maid.

Miss Page looked unhappy. “Katherine, I—”

“I’ll be fine, Miss Page.” Katherine copied her father’s ‘last word’ voice.

“All right, Katherine.” As she went out the door, she thought she heard Peggy Beal giggle.

It was lovely out in the hall. There was no one in sight, and all the doors were closed. Katherine thought Horace Mann Elementary School was lovely — cool and dark and spooky. With the tallest fire escape — just right for playing School and Teacher, where you moved up a step for every grade.

Since there was no one around, and since she felt so much better, Katherine decided to explore closed doors that had long puzzled her. Doors that didn’t open on classrooms, but to strange, dark squares that might hold anything. That was how she found the secret in the broom-closet. It was a good-sized broom-closet, and there was an old mattress — it looked like the one on the cot in the nurse’s office — rolled up in the corner.

Katherine couldn’t really go home — if her mother were home, she might ask questions — so she unrolled the mattress and lay do Am. It was dark and quiet in the broom-closet — and restful. Before she knew she was sleepy, she had gone to sleep.

She awoke drowsily to the sound of the children in the halls, and she guessed it was time for recess. Doors were opening and closing. There were shouts and giggles. Katherine lay quietly and hoped the janitor was down in the basement, in his room next to the boys' toilets. She hoped he wouldn’t need a broom until after recess. Everyone would think it strange, if they found Katherine hiding in the broom-closet.

Then she heard the voices. Miss Cooper from the fifth grade and Miss Belliveau, the kindergarten teacher, another voice she wasn’t sure of — and Miss Page. It sounded like they were talking right next to her ear. Then Katherine remembered the teachers’ lounge — is was right next door.

“And I simply don’t know how to handle the child.” It was Miss Page talking. “She pretended she was sick — and maybe she was. Thelma Carey is away this morning, so I couldn’t send her to the nurse’s office. And I couldn’t challenge her in front of the whole class. So I let her go home.”

“I remember her from kindergarten,” this was Miss Belliveau. “A strange child. Quite intelligent, but odd. She wanted to play with the others, but she just didn’t seem to know how. Everything she did was wrong.”

“I've written her mother several notes” — Miss Page sounded displeased — “but she ignores them. I suppose I should go see the woman. I owe it to the child, as her teacher. But if her mother isn’t even interested enough to answer a note...”

The unidentified voice broke in.

“It’s a sad situation. The mother is an alcoholic. The father seems to be a decent chap, but he’s home only on week-ends. He travels for a tyre company. I suggested that he ask for a transfer of some sort, but he tells me he makes more money travelling. And, like most of us, he needs the money.”

“Oh, Louise,” Miss Page’s voice was sad. “How tragic! I didn’t know a bit of the family history. How did you get on to it?”

“The neighbours called Welfare. Seems the child was wandering around at all hours. Welfare got in touch with the school board, and I was assigned to check the child’s record. As far as her marks are concerned she seems quite bright. But with that background — what can you expect?”

“Honestly, it just makes me furious. They expect us to turn them into model citizens, and their families defeat our purpose before we even begin.” Katherine could see Miss Belliveau, short and plump, puffing up like a pigeon in the park.

“Can't Welfare do anything about the mother?” Miss Cooper had a deep, serious voice. The older kids said she was awful strict.

The unknown Louise answered. “They’re trying, I guess. If it doesn’t get any better, they may take the child.”

“How awful!” said Miss Page.

“Terrible!” said Miss Belliveau.

“Disgusting!” said Miss Cooper. “I don’t relish inheriting her. It’s hard enough to pound something into the heads of the adjusted ones.”

Katherine found that her legs were cramped. She decided that, if she slipped out the street door and hurried around the block, she could enter the playground as though she had returned from home. She really wanted to go back to class — and, anyway, Miss Page had already collected the milk money. So that was all she heard that day. But she had found her secret secret place.

After that, Katherine found all sorts of excuses for going out into the hall just before recess. She would slip quietly into the broom-closet and lie on her special couch. And she would listen.

The speakers in the lounge were not always the same ones, and, sometimes, they talked about the dullest things, like government and the board of education and the cost of living. Sometimes, when Miss Page and Miss Belliveau were there alone, they talked about Miss Page’s boy friend. His name was Bob, and Katherine found Bob very interesting. But the best conversations concerned the children and the things the children did — or might do.

“I had to be so careful. I didn’t want to frighten them, but the situation could be serious.” It was Miss Belliveau speaking as she came in the door.

Miss Page answered. “I felt the same way. It’s easy for the older ones to get ideas — to make up all sorts of stories. One of my little angels thought up a really fantastic tale the other day. She said a man in a car with wings offered her a ride. And that he had an eagle sitting on his wrist.”

“I can imagine which one dreamed that up. It’s sad — you can’t believe a thing Katherine says. But if she weren’t known to stretch the truth, then you might report the story, on the chance that it could be the same one. But you know the old bromide — consider the source.”

“Of course I don’t want to en-courage such fancies, so I went all around Robin Hood’s barn when I brought up the subject. First, I told them I was sure they had all been cautioned about accepting rides or presents from strangers. Then I said that, if a strange man approaches any child, that child should report him to his parents or teacher immediately.”

“Well, of course, I had to be a little plainer about it. I guess the main gist of my message was — run! I wish they’d catch the beast. That’s what he — a beast. The whole thing makes me very nervous,” Miss Belliveau said.

“It makes me more than nervous,” said Miss Page. “The man is obviously mental. Those two poor girls — one of them dead and the other still in coma. It makes my flesh crawl.”

“The paper said both children’s parents were positive their daughters would never go off with a strange man.”

“That’s what we all think,” said Miss Page. “That’ the danger. No one has the vaguest idea what he looks like, or how he gets the children to go with him. I only hope he doesn’t show up around here. I’m afraid to let Bob go home early, as it is.”

Miss Belliveau laughed. “That isn’t why you won’t let Bob go home early.” Miss Page giggled, and Katherine had to put her hand over her mouth.

But just then Miss Cooper came in, and that ended the giggly part of the conversation.

The days after that grew long and golden, and Katherine spent more time playing at recess. But, one day, some of the children began to call her Granddaddy Longlegs, and she ran into the girls’ toilet to escape their voices.

There she looked into the mirror. It was true her legs were long — and her arms, too. The rest of her was thin, and the arms and legs made her torso look unimportant. Her hair was all wrong somehow — brown and straight and square. Her eyes were not blue, like the June sky, but brown like the body of a June bug.

“You’re ugly, Granddaddy Long-legs,” she told the mirror and ran to her secret place.

“She is really quite a charming child,” Miss Page was saying. “Of course, she’s lovely to look at, but she has excellent manners as well. This morning she brought me a note from her mother, inviting me to Peggy’s birthday party on the fourteenth. You’d have thought she was a grown-up, the way she presented it.”

“Birthday parties — such a nuisance,” said Miss Cooper. “Of course, I recognise the necessity for them, but I try to keep my relationship with the children on a businesslike basis.”

“But I feel I should go,” said Miss Page, and it occurred to Katherine that she must be younger, much younger, than Miss Cooper. “She’s inviting a good part of the class, and it will give me a chance to become better acquainted with the mother.”

“Why should you care?” asked Miss Cooper. “School’s almost out, and I’ll get them next year, more than likely.”

Miss Page sounded very prim and proper. “That doesn’t matter. I feel that a teacher should have a real interest in all her pupils — past and present. And, besides, Mrs. Beal has been very kind. She sent me the prettiest stole from Peggy at Christmas.”

Miss Cooper made a noise like a horse’s snort, and Katherine left the broom closet. How exciting! Peggy Beal was having a birthday party, and most of the class would go to the big Beal house on the hill, where they had a swimming pool!

Katherine loved parties and had wanted for a long time to be invited to the Beals. She wondered what she would wear. Maybe, when Daddy came home this weekend, he would buy her a new dress. A pretty pink one — long enough to cover her knees.

The bright sunlight made her blink, as she emerged from the dark hall into the play-yard. Peggy Beal was playing tag with a group of girls. Katherine smiled at her as she ran, her blonde curls flying. She wanted to go up to her and say, “Thank you, Peggy. Thank you for having a party.” But, just then, the bell rang, and there was no opportunity.

Katherine’s daddy bought her the dress — a lovely pale nylon with a stiff skirt — and a present for Peggy as well. The present was a plastic bag full of coloured ribbons for Peggy’s hair. They had it gift-wrapped at the store, because Daddy thought Mamma wouldn’t feel well enough to do it and it had to look just right.

Katherine was all ready for the party on the fourteenth, which was the Saturday coming. All she needed now was the invitation.

On Monday, she saw some of the other girls clustered around Peggy and talking and laughing. Some of them had little white envelopes.

On Tuesday, she noticed two or three of the boys pulling the same sort of envelopes from their pockets, the while protesting loudly that they “hated girls’ parties.”

On Wednesday, she heard Peggy describing the ice cream. “All made up in the shape of fruits and flowers.” On Thursday she looked eagerly, but vainly, through the mail on the mantel, and, on Friday, she was sure the invitation would be lying on her desk at school. But it was not there, and, at afternoon recess, Katherine decided she would have to ask Peggy if it had gotten lost.

Peggy sat under the shade of the fire escape, playing jacks on the cement with two of her special friends. Katherine didn’t want to interrupt her, but it was hard to get Peggy alone.

She stood on the edge of the circle, waiting for a chance to speak. No one said anything to her, and so, at last, she cleared her throat.

“Peggy, I didn’t get my invitation to your party. Do you suppose your Mother forgot to mail it?”

“Oh my goodness!” said the birthday girl. “You made me miss. My mother never forgets to mail things. You weren’t invited.”

Katherine watched while she picked up the jacks and threw them down again. The other girls were staring at her with expressionless eyes.

“But I thought...” Katherine heard her voice sound funny and stiff, “Why? Why didn’t you invite me?”

Peggy Beal put her hands in her lap and looked at Katherine. Her eyes started at the top of Katherine’s head and moved down to her scuffed sandals. Then they moved up again to her face.

“Because I didn’t want to,” said Peggy Beal. “It’s my eighth birthday, and I wanted eight guests — my eight best friends.”

Katherine made a rapid mental calculation. “But there’s fourteen that I know of — fourteen invited. I could be fifteen. It wouldn’t hurt. I’ve already got your present.”

Peggy Beal threw the ball and began to pick up jacks. “Very well,” she said, “I tried to be nice. There are eighteen invited, but you can’t be nineteen. You look funny, and you act funny. My mother says your mother acts funny. We don’t want you. And I don’t want your present.”

The other girls giggled, as Katherine turned away. “Peggy, you’re so funny! You’re a regular comic. You’re as funny as Mickey Mouse.”

“That reminds me,” Peggy’s cool voice came floating to Katherine through the hot summer haze, “I’m having a magician at my party. A real magician and, of course, a caterer.”

Katherine heard no more. She went into the girls’ toilet and was sick on the floor. Then she hid in her secret place for the rest of the day.

She heard the bell ring, and the children leaving at the end of the school day. She waited until they had all gone, before she opened the broom-closet door and started down the hall.

As she passed the door of her room she heard Miss Page talking to someone. “Tell your mother, I'll be delighted to come. And that she can count on me to help in any way that I can.”

“Thank you, Miss Page.” It was Peggy Beal. “Did I tell you we’re having a magician — and pony rides?” The sickness stirred in Katherine’s stomach, and she hurried out into the yard.

The playground was deserted. A car passed by, slowed down and turned the corner. It was a black car with white wings, like angels’ wings, painted on the side. The Wing Company, Caterers, it said in white letters. Katherine heard footsteps behind her and hurried to hide in the patch of trees by the fence.

Peggy Beal came out of the door and down the steps alone.

The car with the wings turned the corner, came by slowly and stopped. The man inside was smiling at Peggy Beal. He put out his hand and opened the door. Katherine couldn’t see it now, but she knew there was an eagle tattooed on his wrist. She had seen it there the time he’d come before.

“Would you like a ride, little girl?”

Peggy Beale stopped on the cross walk. “No thank you. I’m not allowed to ride with strangers. Tomorrow’s my birthday.”

“I know to-morrow’s your birthday.” The man smiled. His teeth were not white like the toothpaste ads. The gums looked red and funny.

“I’m having a party,” said Peggy, “with a magician.”

“I know,” said the man, and his smile was wider. “I’m the magician. That’s why I’m here. Just get in and come with me and I’ll show you my bag of tricks.”

Peggy hesitated, and the man held out his other hand. There was a box of candy in it. “My birthday present to you,” he said.

Peggy reached for the candy, and Katherine almost called to her. But then she remembered that, to tell Peggy about the man, would be telling her about the secret.

Katherine watched as Peggy got into the car with the wings and drove away. Katherine turned and strolled home in the summer sun.

“I know what I’ll do,” said Katherine to herself, “On Monday, I’ll wear my pink dress to school — with a ribbon in my hair.”