The Forget-Me-Not Summer by Katie Flynn

fair, and much better to our mam than my real dad was, so I reckon I should count me blessings.’
    Miranda was looking thoughtful. ‘If he’s only your step-dad, why do you have the same name?’ she asked. ‘I thought boys always kept their fathers’ names?’
    â€˜Oh, me real dad were a right mean old bugger, used to knock Mam about as well as us kids, so when he were killed and Mam married me stepfather she asked us if we’d mind being called Mickleborough too, since she wanted to forget everything to do with our dad. I don’t think Reg and Ted were too happy, or even Joe, but I were only a nipper meself and couldn’t see as it made any difference, so I said yes at once and the others came round in the end. So now we’re the Mickleborough boys – isn’t that what your aunt called us?’
    By this time the two of them had emerged into JamaicaClose, and Miranda looked towards Number Six, half expecting her aunt to appear in the doorway shouting for her, but the doorstep was deserted, as indeed was the Close itself. Most families would be either preparing or eating their evening meal, so if she wanted to be fed she would have to go indoors at once and think up some good reason why she had been away all day. She said as much to Steve, who shook his head. ‘You’ve already said they don’t care where you go or what you do, unless they need you, and since you also said your aunt was staying at home to look after Beth you don’t even have to invent an excuse. All you have to do is look astonished and say if they needed you why didn’t they call.’
    Miranda sighed. ‘It’s been the nicest day I’ve had since Mum disappeared,’ she said wistfully. She fished in her pocket, produced her share of the money they had earned, and thrust the pennies into Steve’s hand. ‘You take care of it; my aunt will only nick it if I take it into Number Six. She’ll say I have to pay something towards the rent, or she needs some coal . . . any excuse to take it off me.’
    Steve accepted the money and shoved it into the pocket of his ragged kecks. ‘Tomorrer, if you get up real early, I’ll show you where I cache my gelt,’ he said, ‘then you can put yours there too and know it’ll be safe.’ He hesitated, then jerked a thumb at the great wall at the end of the Close. ‘Remember we were talking about the wall earlier? Well, now we knows each other pretty well I’ll take you round t’other side of that wall tomorrer and tell you something I’ve not told another soul.’
    â€˜Tell me now,’ Miranda said eagerly. ‘Go on. You’ve told me so much I might as well know the rest. I wassure there was some mystery about that wall as soon as I began to notice it. Go on, Steve, tell me!’
    But though Steve laughed indulgently, he also shook his head. ‘No chance,’ he said. ‘It’s like what I told you earlier about the Scaldy; better to see it for yourself than me have to drive myself half crazy trying to explain. Tomorrer is quite soon enough.’
    â€˜Oh, but suppose I can’t get away?’ Miranda wailed. ‘Suppose my aunt needs me? She’ll only interest herself in Beth for a bit, then she’ll expect me to dance attendance twenty-four hours out of the twenty-four. And then you’ll be sorry you were so mean.’
    But Steve only laughed. ‘Maybe I will and maybe I won’t,’ he said infuriatingly. He seized her shoulders and ran her up the three steps to the front door of Number Six. ‘Off you go.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Don’t forget; meet me here tomorrow at six in the morning.’
    â€˜Well, I will if I can,’ Miranda said. ‘My aunt never gets up before eight o’clock, so maybe I’ll be lucky.’
    She left him, turning to give a little wave as she shut the dirty paint-blistered front door