Chapter 25
John froze for a long moment. Then he opened his mouth to speak then shut it and sighed before it opened again, full of different words from those he had been about to say.
‘How did you know?’
Jane gave a small laugh.
‘I don’t think I needed to have been my husband’s best pupil to work it out.
I didn’t buy the large coat and big boots story for a minute, not to mention the state of your socks and feet.
Then there’s the attack on the food in our stores.
And you hiding yourself away – would a prison officer really have anything to fear from us?
No idea how you got that injury to your head, but it certainly wasn’t from a fall in the snow.
And the surprising detail in your story about Henry Smith, it’s almost as if you knew him intimately.
’ She raised her eyebrows at him. ‘Plus you wouldn’t share a room with Tim, perhaps because the first chance you get to spend a night of true freedom, you don’t want to be cooped up in a small cabin with another cell-mate.
And I keep hearing a bell, I presume it’s from the prison which would lead me to believe the absconder is still out there. Shall I go on?’
Maybe some of her deductions were weaker than others, conjectures, but together they made a pretty strong argument.
John – Henry – didn’t deny it. He fell silent for a long half-minute, lots of thoughts climbing over each other in his head. Eventually, with a croak in his voice, he asked:
‘Will you tell the others?’
‘I think I should. When there is the possible threat to their lives.’
He moved his head from side to side, with slow deliberation.
‘Jane, there is absolutely no threat to you and your friends from me. Everything I told you about Henry Smith is true. I was a bit of a crook, but poverty can make you like that. And I mean proper poverty. When my da’ upped and left, we had nothing.
Petty thieving to put stuff on the table for me mam was the only reason I did any of it.
The train… it was the first time I’d been involved in a big job and even with the promise of what I could have brought home, I had a bad feeling about it.
I was at war with myself, and when push came to shove I…
I couldn’t go through with it, even knowing I’d be in for some trouble for letting people down that you really shouldn’t let down.
‘But, and this is going to sound really strange, I know… what I’ve come to realise over the years is that everything that happened to me, happened for a reason.
I don’t know what that reason is yet, but I’m sure I am being guided.
I thought Father Joseph would laugh me out of town when I told him that, but he never.
He said if I felt it that strong, I was probably right.
Then Jimmy Grimes confessed and proved me innocent and I could taste my freedom, except they buried the truth.
I had to clear my name now I could, it was important for me, and for me mam.
And I knew then that the only way was to get out and shout.
But it was a massive risk because if I did get out, there were no guarantees anyone would listen to me and chances were I’d end up far worse off than I was before.
If they just caught me and threw me back, I’d lose all my privileges I’d built up over many years.
And they’d add time on for me running off.
‘But then the snow happened, from nowhere. The prison officer count was down with illness as well, so they locked everyone up, apart from a couple of us trusties, cooking and cleaning. And I find a door left open and… that never happens. And there’s a coat hanging up, boots there as if they’re waiting for me.
And I knew what I had to do, I had to take me chance.
All that lot happening together couldn’t have been coincidence. ’
Coincidence. Jane could almost hear Clifford musing on the word at the side of her.
‘I have to keep pinching myself that I made it here because it feels a bit like a dream, although this whisky certainly tastes very real, I have to say. I must have given me head a proper clunk because I still feel dizzy if I move it too much.’
‘How did you bump it?’ Jane asked him.
‘I once, must have been two years ago, went down the cellar with a guard, can’t even remember why, but what I never forgot is that there were rocks piled up against an old sluice gate.
I knew it was a weak spot. I knew that if I could somehow get to scrambling up ’em and dislodging the grid, I’d be on the outside.
I checked after and saw that the perimeter wall’s at its lowest point there.
Couldn’t have been more perfect. I kept my weight down and my fitness up.
‘Of all the doors that could have been left open, it was the one that allowed me access down there. But also, I could have gone up from there, hidden myself in the maze of passages in the roof which I imagine is what they thought I’d do and probably bought me some time.
It couldn’t have gone smoother: up the rocks, kicked out the grid, over the wall, as if it was meant to be.
Apart from the fact it was more of a drop on the other side than I anticipated and I fell hard, scraped all my head on the way down.
I think adrenaline must have fuelled me until I found the train because as soon as I was on it, I dropped as if I’d died. ’
Jane believed him. She’d felt he was lying when he had been; she didn’t feel that now.
‘If this is true, then there are people out there who can help you.’
‘Do you think the others’ll throw us out there when you tell them?’ There was a note of genuine worry in John/Henry’s voice.
‘I doubt it very much. I shall stand in your corner,’ Jane replied.
‘Thank you, Jane. No better to have behind me.’
Then they relaxed further back into the sofa and drank in companionable silence.
‘I did wonder what was going on with Grace and that answers it,’ said Vincent. ‘She didn’t look a very happy woman from the off.’ He didn’t say it, but he’d thought that Grace’s face was never going to be troubled by laughter lines.
‘Frank’s lovely.’ Then Elizabeth realised what she might be intimating by that. ‘Not that I’m saying Grace isn’t, but Frank is a little easier to get to know.’
‘He’s a geezer, inne?’
Elizabeth nodded, not quite sure what he meant but knowing it was a compliment.
‘Pass me another snake, will you please?’
This riddle she could work out. She lifted up some tinsel. It was – unsurprisingly – exquisite quality, like everything on this train.
‘I’m really sorry you missed your party, Elizabeth.’
‘It would have been very dangerous to continue driving.’
‘I’ll get you there though, better late than never.’
‘Look at this sugar-plum fairy, isn’t it beautiful?
’ Elizabeth changed the subject as she lifted the decoration up for him to see.
She didn’t want to think about Topston. Gregory’s annoyance with her would be gaining hourly interest, and her father would be fuelling the fire.
No one was on her side, that was the problem.
She dreaded the ‘welcoming’ committee when she did finally get to them.
She knew their priority would be to vent their frustration at her, rather than throwing their arms around her with relief that she was safe.
‘You okay?’ Vincent asked, seeing her expression, wondering what was causing her brow to scrunch and that thoughtful look in her soft grey eyes.
‘I was just thinking about having to leave here and go back to normal life.’
‘Me too.’
Elizabeth made a silent wish that the snow wouldn’t thaw overnight.
It was quite lovely not being able to do anything about the situation they were in.
It felt so Christmassy in their little bubble and it was as much to do with Radio Brian, the log-fire, the gentle camaraderie and Roo’s artistry with the decorations as it was with the expanse of snow outside.
From the radio Bing was singing that he would be home for Christmas.
‘I won’t, though. I’ll be listening to you, Brian,’ said Vincent.
He had the sudden urge to take Elizabeth’s hand and twirl her around the room.
His mum had taught him to dance when he was a boy.
‘It’ll come in handy one day, you mark my words,’ she’d said, overriding his sulky reluctance.
He couldn’t, of course, it would have been an imposition, but there was that kind of feeling around that they were in an old Hollywood film where people burst into song and dance as part of their normal routine.
There was a sparkle in the air, as if someone had swirled it with mince-pie-scented glitter.
‘Brian sounds as if he really enjoys what he does, doesn’t he?’
‘Gotta be happy in your job though, it’s important.’
‘Are you, Vincent?’
‘Yeah, I love it. I love my people, got a good crew. What about you? What do you actually do, Elizabeth?’
‘I work for my father, he owns an export company. We export anything anywhere and I’m the pen-pushing director of admin.’ She did her best to inject some enthusiasm into her words but failed, and from what Vincent said next, it was quite obvious that her effort hadn’t landed.
‘That sounds… er… interesting.’
It made her laugh. ‘Vincent, it couldn’t be less interesting.’
‘Doesn’t float your boats, I’m guessing.’
‘My boats are well and truly welded to the mud.’
‘So why are you there then? What would you do instead, if you had the choice to do any job in the world?’
Why am I there then? It would sound pathetic to say that it was expected of her to be there.
That she’d be the world’s biggest ingrate if she hadn’t taken the position and been appreciative of it.
Vincent hadn’t had her life, hadn’t been brought up and conditioned to only gain approval for doing what she was supposed to, but to say as much would have made her sound like the gutless jelly she was and she didn’t want him to think that of her.
She was uninspired, unchallenged. Any effort she made to change things was thwarted and she could have made improvements because she had a good eye for business.
She couldn’t make her mark there, she just had to toe the line and leave the decisions and the deal-breaking to the men.
Her father was still living in a bygone age.
If she hadn’t been his daughter, she’d have probably been making everyone tea and plating up biscuits.
She was a director in name only and felt the coldness behind her back, the resentment of her being the ‘nepo baby’ who had a not-too-demanding job but was paid a lot more than those who did more work. Golden handcuffs.
‘Duty, family loyalty, I suppose, Vincent. As for what I’d like to do…
I want my own venture, something to sink my teeth into.
I want to open a second-hand bookshop. But not just any old shop, a reading centre which would bring people in to learn, to talk, a little café in the corner, a breakfast club for children, a real community support project.
I have ideas that would make it profitable enough to sustain itself with staff, but it would be about so much more than the cold, hard cash.
And if it works, and I’m sure it would, then I’d roll them out to other areas that needed them.
’ Elizabeth’s voice was full of rising passion.
‘Stories, books are so valuable, the ability to read has a real knock-on effect on society, on industry, on health, on the whole of…’
She trailed off, because she didn’t want him thinking she was a ‘goody two-shoes’.
She’d hoped to get Gregory onside to back some local charities.
She had managed it too, because it was good PR, big business looking after the little guys, except he’d selected corporate-friendly little guys and not the most needy.
He picked glam causes, run by schmoozing chief execs who held glitzy events and spent too much of any monies raised on their swanky office furniture and first-class transport.
‘You should do it, Elizabeth.’ Vincent could see Elizabeth reigning in a book-filled kingdom.
‘One day,’ she replied, doubting that day would ever come. She was trapped in her obligations, as much as Grace was evidently trapped in her grief.