Chapter Seven #3
Theo, he wrote, Kit has asked to see you.
They will hang him in one week’s time so I suppose you could call this his dying wish.
Or one of them, in any case. I beg you to do as he asks.
Summon that part of you that gave him Lord Abrecan’s coin for courage, rather than whichever part let him be convicted.
He wishes to see you because, he says, you are his friend.
The gaol is not a pleasant place but you would be quite safe.
You need not travel alone or see him by yourself, if you’d prefer not to.
I will go with you, or my parents, or anyone else you wish to take.
Timothy Crudge would travel down for it, I am certain.
He has been to visit Kit more than once, so is well acquainted with the place.
In any case I will make all the arrangements; all you need do is agree to it, and find a few kind things to say to Kit, when he is facing the end and is so very afraid.
I begged you to speak up for him, but you did not.
Now I must beg you again, and this time implore you to do as I ask.
Please come with me to see him, Theo, and say some words to comfort him; even if you cannot forgive the way I spoke to you before, even if no friendship remains between us.
Send word, and it will be arranged as soon as may be.
He delivered the letter to the same servant who’d sent him packing the last time.
‘It is of critical importance that Miss Hallewell receive this,’ he said.
‘Is it indeed?’
The young man took the envelope with a scornful expression, and closed the door.
Crudge came to tell Theo the outcome of the trial – the first time in weeks he’d been allowed to visit. Sitting by her bed, holding her hand, tears rolling down his cheeks. Theo was still blunted by narcotics. She tried as hard as she could to speak, and say sorry; but nothing came out.
Whatever Fortescue had prescribed made time both fast and slow.
She lost track of it. She did nothing, saw no one; rehashed it all, over and over, as though she might solve it somehow.
Like Toby with his notebook of symbols, always hunting out their meaning.
She wondered if she might somehow disintegrate, and be released from her pain.
Like the burnt paper of her invocation: little black flecks, coming apart in water.
Like Abrecan’s body in the holy well – a different state of being.
Abrecan the owl! How she yearned for a different state of being.
Towards the end of an afternoon, when Theo had been watching rain snake down the windowpane, her mother burst in with a piece of paper clenched in one hand.
‘Is that a letter?’ Theo said. ‘Is it for me?’
‘No. It is nothing. We . . . have been burgled, Theo.’
‘Burgled?’
‘Indeed. Though I have only just noticed it. The King Alfred silver coin has been taken from the display case, and a dummy put in its place – a cunning thing for the thief to do, in an effort to conceal the crime. And the case is quite undamaged, so a skilled picklock has been at work.’
Theo was silent. Diana stared at her.
‘I shall send for Constable Pryce, of course,’ she said. ‘I only wanted to ask when you last recall seeing the coin in its proper place? If we can ascertain when it was taken, then I may furnish the constable with a list of those who were staying with us at the time.’
‘I—’ Theo sat up straighter. ‘Is . . . is it worth troubling the police?’
‘Worth troubling them? I should say so, Theo. That coin is precious, for its provenance as much as its monetary value. It belongs here, at Hallewell.’
Diana didn’t blink.
‘I took it,’ Theo said.
She sensed that her mother already knew, and didn’t have the strength to dissemble. Besides, there seemed little Diana could do to make things any worse than they already were.
‘You took it,’ Diana echoed flatly. ‘What for? And where is it now?’
‘I took it because . . . I wanted something of Lord Abrecan’s. It seemed . . . magical.’
Diana shook her head. ‘How ridiculous you are at times.’
‘I don’t know where it is now,’ Theo lied.
The last thing she wanted was for Diana to find some way of getting it back from Kit.
She only hoped he still had it, and that it helped him, even a little.
The thought of him in gaol made her stomach churn.
If she hadn’t been so certain of the Meriwethers’ disapproval, she would have gone to see him.
Despite the guilt, and the shame, she would have gone and held Kit’s hand for a while.
She thought that he, at least, would be happy to see her.
‘I lost it,’ she said. ‘At the castle, at midsummer.’
‘How careless of you,’ Diana murmured. ‘Perhaps you might stir yourself to go and look for it, one of these days? Though I daresay some lucky passer-by has pocketed it by now.’
Her mother’s eyes pinned her for a few more seconds, then she turned for the door.
‘Tidy yourself up, Theo. It’s breaded veal for dinner.’
On Sunday the third of November, Reverend Nimrod spent an hour alone in the cell with Kit, while the Meriwethers stood out in the corridor like captured chess pieces. When he came out, the vicar took Mona’s hands and bowed his head.
‘Take heart, Mrs Meriwether,’ he said, as Mona’s eyes flooded. ‘Gather your courage, and your faith. Show your boy that you are not afraid; that he is going to a place of safety and forgiveness. A place of mercy.’
‘I . . . I can’t, Vicar!’ Mona whispered. ‘I’m trying, but—’
‘My dear woman . . . God sees your son for who he truly is,’ Nimrod said.
Toby felt sorry for him. He was as powerless as they all were, and no amount of faith could make what was happening any better.
‘Thank you for coming, Reverend,’ David said.
‘Call upon me at any time,’ he said, as he took his leave. ‘You are in my prayers, all of you.’
The governor had given them an hour, instead of the usual thirty minutes. The last hour they would ever spend with Kit.
‘Mona, my dear . . .’ David said gently. ‘The vicar is right – it will frighten Kit to see you so distraught.’
‘How can I not be distraught when my boy is being stolen from me like this? It is too cruel!’
‘I know, I know. But just for now. Just for Kit.’
Mona took a few gulping breaths, trying to smother the sobs.
Toby couldn’t stand it. ‘I’ll go in first,’ he said. ‘You come when you’re ready, Mum.’
She nodded, her face twisting in pain.
The vicar’s visit seemed to have calmed Kit. He was sitting on his stool like an oversized schoolboy – knees together, big, ungainly feet apart; hands clasped as though still in prayer.
‘How are you, Kit?’ Toby said.
‘Will I . . . will I see her in heaven?’ Kit said.
‘What? Who?’
‘Missy. Will I see her in heaven? The vicar said only sinners go to hell and I’m not a sinner, not very much. And Missy’s in heaven now, isn’t she? So will I go to heaven, too?’ He glanced up, eyes enormous.
‘Yes,’ Toby said tightly.
‘Because God knows, doesn’t He? The judge said I did it on purpose, but God knows I didn’t, doesn’t He?’
‘Yes. God knows everything,’ Toby said; though, when it came down to it, he wasn’t sure he believed in God any more.
Kit nodded. ‘Will I find her, then, do you think? When I get there?’
‘Yes. I expect you will.’
‘Then perhaps it won’t be so bad. I’d like to see her again. She’s very pretty. Isn’t she? Will she look like that in heaven? Like she always looked? Or will she look like . . . like . . .’ Kit couldn’t finish.
‘She’ll look just the same,’ Toby said. ‘What will you say to her?’
‘I’ll say, “Sorry, Missy.” I’ll say, “I never meant to bang you on the head.” Because I didn’t! I never meant to! She said climb up there, bet you can’t, so I did! I did!’
Kit got up in a rush, his calm evaporating. Windblown emotions flew across his face – fear and hope and indignation. Mostly fear.
‘It’s all right, Kit,’ Toby said. ‘Sit back down. It’s going to be all right.’
‘Will it hurt?’
Tremors jerked through Kit’s body, and Toby was close to choking.
‘No, it won’t hurt a bit.’
‘I . . . I want to go home, Toby! I don’t want to be dead like Missy!’
‘I don’t want you to be dead either, Kit,’ Toby managed to say, anguish blurring the words. He shut his eyes and refused to be sick. ‘But it won’t be bad at all, I promise.’
‘Oxcott says it will be like going to sleep quickly, like when I’m very, very tired,’ Kit whispered, leaning in close. ‘Do you think that’s right?’
‘Well, Oxcott knows about a lot of things, doesn’t he? So I’m sure he has it right.’
‘Yes. Only . . . I won’t ever wake up again.’ Kit’s face contorted as he wrestled with it. ‘I wish Theo had come to see me. Perhaps she’ll come a bit later on?’
‘I . . . I think Theo is poorly at the moment, Kit.’
‘Oh. Poor Theo.’
‘Poor Theo,’ Toby echoed hollowly. ‘She . . . she told me to say hello,’ he lied. ‘And to give you a hug. She said not to worry about the coin. And that she’s very sorry for what’s happened, and she’ll always be your friend, and say her prayers for you.’
‘That’s good, then, isn’t it?’
‘Yes. That’s good.’
David and Mona came in then. Mona’s face was dry, but her eyes were red and gleaming.
What could any of them say? They didn’t dare shatter the fantasy they’d painstakingly constructed, that tomorrow would not bring a rope of coarse hemp and the racket of the others, banging their dented spoons on the floor; it would not bring a sharp pain in the neck and a release of the bladder and bowels.
No: tomorrow morning at nine, Kit would close his eyes and fall asleep, and fly up into the clouds to see Missy Cartwright again.
The hour became an hour and a half, but after that the door squealed and a warder appeared to evict them.
‘Just a little longer, I beg you,’ David said.
‘You’ve already had longer,’ the man said, not without sympathy. ‘Rules is rules, else I’ll have the whole place up in a riot.’