wasn’t listening.
‘Did you see anything at any time at all?’ His forgettable voice had now taken on a distinct tone of irritation.
‘I saw the security man on the desk through the doors. He’s nice.’
‘Apart from him.’
‘I saw my dad and Bill up on the platform. I never get to go on that.’
Mr Shepard looked torn between telling her this was a good idea – as she was obviously too young and stupid to be allowed near anything dangerous, starting with cutlery and ending with
window cleaners’ cradles – and telling her she should immediately be hoisted three floors up, surrounded by kitchen knives, blindfolded, and forced to fend for herself.
‘And I saw the man in the white coat.’
Arthur Shepard bit back the obvious reply.
‘Which man?’ he asked, in what he imagined was a patient voice.
‘The one looking for . . .’ Millie trailed off. She couldn’t remember exactly what the man had said. Had he mentioned a cat? She didn’t think so.
‘The one looking for . . . somebody. He seemed pretty upset. Did he find him?’
‘No, he didn’t. We’re still trying to help him do that now. Did
you
see anything?’
‘No. He asked me that before. Did you ask my dad? They were higher up, they might have seen someone. Oh, they were probably looking at the windows, though. It’s the best way to get
them clean, I think.’ Millie’s heart was racing. Should she have said ‘something’, not ‘someone’? Maybe not – she was supposed to think it was a person who
was missing, wasn’t she? He’d asked her if she’d seen ‘anything’, though, and not ‘anyone’. Maybe he wouldn’t notice. This was the trouble with
lying, it was so hard to think how you would behave if you were telling the truth.
‘Yes, I fear they were. Well, thank you for your time, young lady.’ Millie tried to remain calm, as there was still time to make a mistake. ‘You can get back to your work
now.’
‘OK.’ Millie stood up and turned round. There was a filing cabinet behind the door which she hadn’t been able to see as she came in. On top of the filing cabinet was a bendy
plastic robot which Millie knew was expensive, because her friend Claire’s little brother, Joe, had wanted one last Christmas. The toy was of some kind of special plastic that meant it moved
like a toy robot, and came with a remote control, but it was also stretchy and flexible, like Plasticine, if you held it in your hands to warm it up a bit. Claire’s mum and dad had tried to
get him one, but everywhere had sold out by mid-November, and he had been pretty disappointed on Christmas Day. Then it turned out that none of his friends had got one either, and he minded a bit
less. The toys were still in extremely short supply, and Joe was now hoping to get one for his birthday, or even next Christmas.
‘Thank you,’ said Arthur Shepard firmly, opening the door for her.
Mille smiled gormlessly as the woman reappeared to take her back downstairs. But she was curious: in an office otherwise devoid of personal things – no pictures, no photographs, no funny
cartoons pinned to the wall – why would a man like Arthur Shepard have a children’s toy sitting on his filing cabinet?
‘Now, how old are you?’ asked Elaine, as she walked Millie back down the corridor.
‘Twelve,’ she replied.
‘Goodness, are you?’ the woman said, betraying not even the slightest hint of interest in her voice. ‘I hope we won’t get in trouble with Personnel for having an
under-sixteen working here.’
‘I’m just helping my dad,’ said Millie. This woman was beginning to annoy her.
‘Well, so long as you’re not on the payroll, I suppose what they don’t know won’t hurt them. Now, do you think you could carry some bags of rubbish down to the rubbish
room? The cleaners aren’t in today. They’re not heavy. They’re all paper, really.’ Millie restrained herself from asking if the cleaners were really made of paper, and from
‘Did you see anything at any time at all?’ His forgettable voice had now taken on a distinct tone of irritation.
‘I saw the security man on the desk through the doors. He’s nice.’
‘Apart from him.’
‘I saw my dad and Bill up on the platform. I never get to go on that.’
Mr Shepard looked torn between telling her this was a good idea – as she was obviously too young and stupid to be allowed near anything dangerous, starting with cutlery and ending with
window cleaners’ cradles – and telling her she should immediately be hoisted three floors up, surrounded by kitchen knives, blindfolded, and forced to fend for herself.
‘And I saw the man in the white coat.’
Arthur Shepard bit back the obvious reply.
‘Which man?’ he asked, in what he imagined was a patient voice.
‘The one looking for . . .’ Millie trailed off. She couldn’t remember exactly what the man had said. Had he mentioned a cat? She didn’t think so.
‘The one looking for . . . somebody. He seemed pretty upset. Did he find him?’
‘No, he didn’t. We’re still trying to help him do that now. Did
you
see anything?’
‘No. He asked me that before. Did you ask my dad? They were higher up, they might have seen someone. Oh, they were probably looking at the windows, though. It’s the best way to get
them clean, I think.’ Millie’s heart was racing. Should she have said ‘something’, not ‘someone’? Maybe not – she was supposed to think it was a person who
was missing, wasn’t she? He’d asked her if she’d seen ‘anything’, though, and not ‘anyone’. Maybe he wouldn’t notice. This was the trouble with
lying, it was so hard to think how you would behave if you were telling the truth.
‘Yes, I fear they were. Well, thank you for your time, young lady.’ Millie tried to remain calm, as there was still time to make a mistake. ‘You can get back to your work
now.’
‘OK.’ Millie stood up and turned round. There was a filing cabinet behind the door which she hadn’t been able to see as she came in. On top of the filing cabinet was a bendy
plastic robot which Millie knew was expensive, because her friend Claire’s little brother, Joe, had wanted one last Christmas. The toy was of some kind of special plastic that meant it moved
like a toy robot, and came with a remote control, but it was also stretchy and flexible, like Plasticine, if you held it in your hands to warm it up a bit. Claire’s mum and dad had tried to
get him one, but everywhere had sold out by mid-November, and he had been pretty disappointed on Christmas Day. Then it turned out that none of his friends had got one either, and he minded a bit
less. The toys were still in extremely short supply, and Joe was now hoping to get one for his birthday, or even next Christmas.
‘Thank you,’ said Arthur Shepard firmly, opening the door for her.
Mille smiled gormlessly as the woman reappeared to take her back downstairs. But she was curious: in an office otherwise devoid of personal things – no pictures, no photographs, no funny
cartoons pinned to the wall – why would a man like Arthur Shepard have a children’s toy sitting on his filing cabinet?
‘Now, how old are you?’ asked Elaine, as she walked Millie back down the corridor.
‘Twelve,’ she replied.
‘Goodness, are you?’ the woman said, betraying not even the slightest hint of interest in her voice. ‘I hope we won’t get in trouble with Personnel for having an
under-sixteen working here.’
‘I’m just helping my dad,’ said Millie. This woman was beginning to annoy her.
‘Well, so long as you’re not on the payroll, I suppose what they don’t know won’t hurt them. Now, do you think you could carry some bags of rubbish down to the rubbish
room? The cleaners aren’t in today. They’re not heavy. They’re all paper, really.’ Millie restrained herself from asking if the cleaners were really made of paper, and from
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