Red Rainbow G Johanson (i am malala young readers edition .txt) 📖

his hand even if they were told what a monster she was (which was where he was at with her, the issue being that she wanted to eat more than he wanted to feed her). His mother was the issue. His mother worried whenever any woman’s name was associated with his – she’d taken a while to move from lip service to full acceptance of his ex-fiancée, the most presentable potential wife ever. Hearing of his dinner date with a supernatural serial killer who put 87 men in the ground in one night – it would be too much for her; César had to stop Gehring from doing this.

Chapter 12

Chez Scrambler

Patience was going to have to get used to not settling down until the war was over. She’d not stayed at Marcella’s long enough to get comfortable. Her stay at the Love Phantom’s flat came to an end the morning of his fateful meal with Florence. He drove her and Marcella to their new refuge in the very early hours. This time she deliberately avoided looking at his exposed face. She wouldn’t be seeing him for a while after this if his plan worked and didn’t want to part on a sour note. She hoped he was correct about the strength of his power and that the Gestapo would not be cruel to him. He had been good to her, and it disturbed her to think of him suffering. That was not love, for she had similar thoughts about Mthandeni, Charlotte and Maurice. She thought of how she had been targeted because Deveral was no longer alive and Florence was too fleet of foot – and too damned lethal. Now that they were unable to find her, would they target her contacts as scapegoats in her place? Maurice was the most at risk as the only other mourner in attendance at Deveral’s lonely funeral. If she survived the war – still a big if – she would be pleased she attended. If not... well, she wouldn’t be around to regret it.

Scrambler’s home was not in such a desirable area. It was more real, though, and much larger, far more like her home than the last two places. The Love Phantom and Marcella gave her more information about him in advance so that she’d know what to expect. She’d only met him the once and found him pleasant enough, very exuberant, especially around the Love Phantom. Scrambler tried to come out to see him when he dropped them off, the Love Phantom speeding off before his car broke down. Scrambler shouted expletives at him down the street, clearly banter. The Love Phantom reciprocated with a one-finger salute out of the window, altering to a thumbs up before he turned the corner. Supper with Florence and an extended stay with the Gestapo – for anyone to give a thumbs up with that as their immediate future... it spoke very highly of his optimism and self-confidence.

Scrambler was not so self-confident. Patience was warned that he would ask her what she thought about everything, especially his home and contents. She had to mind that she was not critical of any of his things – the slightest negative comment and he’d break and burn his stuff on the spot. Not even in a rage, he’d do so because he agreed it was rubbish, no matter how highly he regarded it or how valuable it was to him. He sometimes did this without outside interference, collecting for months and years and then discarding on a whim or for effect. The Love Phantom had once said one of his ornaments looked nice only for Scrambler to smash it and laugh that it didn’t now.

The Love Phantom was protective towards him, Patience understanding why as he guided her round the house, a tour from top to bottom. He was a contradictory man, crude as any sailor yet there was something very childlike about him. He was already starting with the questions, asking her what she thought of everything. She would not have been critical even without the warning – that was poor form, anyway, especially given the huge favour he was doing her. He was persistent with the questions, too, not allowing her to dodge them or give brief answers. What did she like about the pantry? Which bedroom did she like best and why? Even tricker – which room did she think the Love Phantom would like best?

Marcella was spared the third degree, for the moment. She’d been here before, Marcella usually the member of the group to deliver messages, in person for Scrambler, by note for Plague. Patience still held novelty value for him. He went out and about throughout the day, causing disruption wherever he went, visiting the places that were liable to cause maximum disruption to the Nazis. He promised them he’d make dinner that evening served with cans of the Love Phantom’s top soda in honour of him. Patience had worried that she’d be an unwelcome guest. She saw this was not the case, Scrambler buzzing at having company.

The family photos scattered around the house, on cabinets, walls and on his bedside table told a sad story. This had once been a house filled with people and noise. He was the middle child of seven. A history of heart problems in his family saw him the only one left by the time he hit 30. He got the house and lost all of them, a poor trade, particularly as he had the house when they were alive too. Patience could relate to this. She inherited her house the same way, though there was only her and her parents, to the outside eye. Including the spirits in her father’s head, there had been thousands there, but there was a ghost in the Condeh family home that had no paranormal origin. Her brother’s ghost was in the house he never made it home to, dying in hospital at six