Spying on Miss Muller Read Online Free PDF Page B

you?”
    Thank heaven the boys were out of hearing. Imagine her mentioning one of my body parts like that. Of course I’d been to the dispensary and had had more than my share of milk of magnesia. So Nursie knew all about my weak intestines, as she called them. She patted my shoulder. “Morning dispensary,” she said again.
    â€œYes, Nursie.”
    I was looking down at Miss Müller’s black beaded slippers and then at old Boots, who had shuffled off to the side. I could see his heavy brown shoes clearly. They were thick with wet mud, and the bottoms of his pajamas, too. I remembered that right in front of the steps next to his caretaker quarters there was a dip where muddy water collected after it rained. It rained just about every day, so that mud puddle was always there.
    If Miss Müller had gone to Boots’s quarters as she’d said, gone in, shaken him awake... I looked again at her black slippers. They were dry and there wasn’t a bit of mud on them. Even that part of what she’d said wasn’t true. She hadn’t gone near Boots’s quarters. She had been up on the roof all the time, and of course old Boots wouldn’t contradict her. He wouldn’t even have heard what she’d said.
    â€œI’ll check on you girls later, back in the dorm,” Miss Müller said.
    I didn’t answer.
    We tripped up the stairs and along the corridor, everyone talking a mile a minute. Nobody seemed to notice that Lizzie Mag and I weren’t joining in.
    â€œCan’t you be quiet, you monsters?” Miss Hardcastle asked, but not as forcefully as she usually does. “You all did well tonight. I’m proud of you.”
    â€œIt was fun,” Maureen said.
    â€œIt wasn’t fun for everyone,” Miss Hardcastle said. “Those bombs did damage somewhere in Belfast. I expect people were killed.”
    That made us settle down.
    â€œDo you think they came over Belfast by mistake?” Maureen asked. “Like they were heading someplace else and got lost?”
    â€œI doubt that very much,” Miss Hardcastle said.
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    When we got back to the dorm, we gathered in Lizzie Mag’s room. For a little while we talked in hushed voices.
    â€œI suppose some people
were
killed,” Lizzie Mag said. “How awful.”
    Maureen, who was checking her lipstick in the mirror, said: “Somebody grabbed me and kissed me and put his hand here.” Her fingers fluttered between her chest and her dangling gas mask.
    â€œIt’s nice that you’re so worried about people getting killed, Maureen,” I said.
    She gave me a surprised Arcs de Triomphe look. “What’s the point in thinking about such awful things when there are such good things to think about?” she said.
    â€œMaybe the person who grabbed you had a cold and he was looking for one of the handkerchiefs in your bra,” Ada suggested. “Maybe he needed to blow his nose.”
    â€œJealous, jealous,” Maureen said. “And Jessie was lucky too. Ian McManus kissed her, remember?”
    I could feel my face getting hot.
    â€œWas it great?” Ada asked.
    It was half a relief and half a disappointment when Miss Müller called from the front of the dorm, “Is everyone in bed?”
    â€œAlmost, Miss Müller.”
    We scampered.
    â€œIt’s about five in the morning,” she said. “The planes have all gone.”
    â€œThe German planes?” Ada asked, as if Miss Müller had thought it had been English planes bombing us. For once Ada’s sarcasm didn’t irritate me. Miss Müller had it coming.
    â€œTry to get some sleep,” Miss Müller said. “They won’t be back tonight.”
    â€œShe should know,” Maureen’s whisper was loud enough for us to hear. For Miss Müller to hear, too.
    â€œGood night,” Miss Müller said firmly.
    I heard the little sliding sound her slippers made on the