by Paul Henke
I gasped. I could not believe my ears. It can’t be true my brain told me but my eyes and ears told me different. I felt slightly dizzy for a moment and then the situation became crystal clear and I could think straight once more. ‘I haven’t a clue as to what you’re talking about,’ I replied haughtily. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, sir, I shall bid you good day.’ I turned to go but he grabbed my arm. I was on the point of yelling for help but thought better of it. I suddenly realised I needed to talk to this man, to find out what he knew and if he wanted only me or Evan as well.
‘Please unhand me, it’s most unseemly,’ I said. ‘There’s a coffee house over there, shall we go and discuss this?’ I started towards the place I’d indicated but Brown stood still, his hand on my coat. For some time now I’d been using a steel topped cane to help me around when my rheumatism was especially bad and before Brown could stop me I swung the cane and brought it down sharply across his forearm. With a scream of pain he let me go, his hand holding his right arm.
‘Don’t attempt to draw your gun, Mr Brown. You’ll be too slow and next time it’ll be your head I’ll crack open. Now, shall we go for that coffee?’ Without waiting for a reply I stalked off, leaving him to follow. In the coffee house I selected a table at the back, next to the rear entrance. I was unsure what I was going to do yet, but I wanted a quick exit just in case. I smiled to myself. Quick . . . that was a laugh. I couldn’t move quickly if my life depended on it, which it probably does, I told myself.
It was a long, low place, wide enough for two tables abreast and space to walk between. There were twelve or fifteen tables each side, with white cloths and comfortable seats. The special, tantalising aroma of coffee beans permeated the air, reminding me as always of that first trip from New York with Evan. Brown sat opposite me.
‘Don’t do something like that again old man or I’ll kill you,’ he growled.
‘Really! An unarmed, old man?’ I had stopped wearing the gun Evan had bought for me because of the problem I had with the arthritis in my hands. ‘I don’t think the marshal will be too pleased with that, do you?’
He scowled. ‘Hurry up with your coffee and we’ll go down to the marshal’s office where I’ll get you locked up.’
‘Before we do I want to know what this is all about,’ though I knew full well. I just wanted time to think.
‘All I know is that you killed a man in Wales about eight or nine years ago and I’ve got a warrant for your arrest.’
‘This isn’t Wales. What jurisdiction do you have here? Not you personally but the warrant.’
‘Mr Price, a number of very influential people in Wales have had my agency looking for you for years. You’ll be deported back to Wales as an undesirable alien and there no doubt you’ll be arrested. The warrant I have is for your deportation, granted by a New York judge on the understanding that federal officers would not be called in to search for you, only a private agency like ours. What I said about you being under arrest for the murder of Sir Clifford Roberts was to put you off balance so you’d come more easily. It doesn’t matter because you’ll still come easily, or else.’
‘But . . . but Good God, surely that isn’t constitutional? I’m not an undesirable alien as far as the States are concerned. I’ve done nothing wrong, caused no harm, not committed any crime. So what grounds can they possibly have for deporting me?’
‘Mr Price, surely you’re not as naıve as that? These people in Wales have many interests in America. I know some of their names and believe me they can wield as much power as the President himself if they want to. They can have you deported like that,’ he snapped his fingers. ‘Where’s the waiter in this place? I could use a coffee too,’ he rubbed his right arm. ‘You sure gave me a clout with that blasted stick.’
‘I wish it had been your head,’ I said bitterly, seething at the injustice of it. There was no getting away from them. The bastards at home had so much power they could wield it in the land of the free. Some joke that was.
‘I’ll get the coffee,’ I made to get up.
‘No, you don’t. I don’t trust you not to run away.’
I looked at him with disgust. ‘Mr Brown I’m near enough seventy. I have rheumatic problems. I carry a cane not as an affectation but because I need it, look you. So don’t be so stupid.’ I said the last sentence with a bitterness that took him by surprise and he sat back to watch as I went to the counter to order coffee.
I kept my back to him and slipped my hand into my waistcoat pocket. I brought out my sleeping pills and dropped three into his cup while waiting for my change. I prayed they would dissolve quickly as I returned to the table.
‘Here you are, the best coffee in St Louis,’ I said then cursed myself. I sounded jolly, which was far from the truth. I pushed the sugar and cream bowls on the table towards him. To my relief he put in three heaped spoons of sugar.
I added cream and sipped. It tasted more bitter than usual. ‘What’s meant to happen afterwards?’
‘It’s not what’s meant to happen as to what will happen,’ he said, sipping his coffee. ‘Hmmm, good. And what’s going to happen is that I’ll arrange for the marshal to lock you up until I arrange two seats on the train back to New York tomorrow or the day after.’
‘It’s just me they want then?’ I asked hopefully.
He smirked at the eagerness in my voice. ‘Nope, they want Griffiths as well,’ he replied, dashing my hopes to powder.
‘Are you going to arrest Evan too?’
‘Nope.’ He was playing me like a cat plays a mouse and enjoying the game.
‘Why not, if you want him?’
‘Because for all their influence they couldn’t persuade no judge to say he’s an undesirable alien because he helped an old man escape his country. No sirree, there’s no way they can touch him.’ What a load of ridiculous contradictions, I thought. First he was telling me these people who wanted me had as much power as the President and now he was saying this. His next words startled me. ‘They can’t get him legally, but there’s another way.’
My blood ran cold. Surely he did not mean they were going to have Evan murdered?
‘What are you going to do, then?’ I asked in a harsh tone. I watched him drain his cup.
‘Nothing,’ he chuckled again. ‘Mr Price, we’ve known of your whereabouts for a few months now and I’ve been studying you and the family. It’s mighty clear how high a regard they have for you. If you’re taken back to Wales what do you think Griffiths will do about it?’
I knew, and from the way Brown chuckled again I could see he read the answer on my face.
‘Exactly, Mr Price. He’ll move heaven and earth on your behalf. I don’t know all the details of the case but it seems he was at this Sir Clifford Roberts’ manor house or castle, whatever these people live in over there and he attacked the old man before getting away. Didn’t they chase him with hounds or something? Anyway, you killed the old man outside your house. You was seen doing it by a woman opposite and she reported you hoping for a reward. You then got away on the SS Cardiff. Griffiths’ conscience more than anything will take him back to help defend you. Not that there’s much chance of him doing you any good.’ He put his hands to his face and rubbed his eyes. ‘I don’t feel too good,’ he grimaced, closing and opening his eyes slowly.
I knew he was right. It was the sort of thing Evan would do. ‘How much is it worth for you to go back to New York and say you made a mistake about finding us?’
‘Are you trying to . . . to bribe me?’ He was squinting at me, trying to focus on my face.
‘Yes, why not? Presumably you’re only here because somebody is paying you? I’ll pay you more.’
‘Mr . . . Mr Price, Jeez, I feel odd. Mr Price if it ain’t me it’ll be somebody else. I’ve already sent in a report categorically stating you’re here. To . . . to deny it will . . . will seem strange. Mr. Price, what . . . I . . . I.’ He fell forward over the table, stirred feebly and then started snoring. I heaved a sigh of r
elief. Those pills of the doctor’s were certainly strong.
I slumped back in my seat and wearily rubbed my eyes. My glasses were hurting my nose and I rubbed the tender spot. I knew what it would mean if I did go back. Evan had some influence here in St. Louis through his political friends but not in New York. What could he do there? Very little, I feared. And if there was one thing I did know about American politics it was that there was little love lost between the courts and the parties, whether Democrat or Republican. If Brown had a warrant then there was little chance of getting it quashed. And I was sure, as night follows day, that Evan would come with me.
And I was too old to run. Where could I go? My life, or what I had left of it was here with Meg and Evan and Sion and David. I’d had a good nine years with them. I thought back, lost in the memory of it all. Little Sian and Sion. And Dai. They had started it all. I chuckled when I thought of some of the tea parties we’d had. And the doll’s house I’d made for Sian. Her death had greatly upset me. I continued lost in my memories for a while, forgetting where I was and who I was with. I’d had so little for so long before the kids came into my life – and then I’d had an awakening. That was all I could call it. An awakening. My mind went from one incident to the next. The kite flying which Sion was still interested in, now more so in fact than ever. Indeed, I no longer really understood what he was talking about half the time with these new fangled inventions, like that man flying. I shook my head. That was an incredible thought. Perhaps I had misunderstood. Oh well, it no longer mattered. I got to my feet. I had to see them all once more. Just once. Though David was away at the university of course.
I got a cab down to the warehouse and went up to Meg’s office. She was at her desk writing but stopped when I entered.
‘How’d it go? Everything all right? Did the doctor say you’re going to live to the next time?’
From somewhere I managed a smile. ‘As usual, Meg, as usual. Mind if I sit here for a while? You go on with what you’re doing.’
‘How about a coffee? I’ll go and get us some,’ she said brightly.
‘Not for me, thanks. I’m swimming in the stuff. You just go on with what you’re doing,’ I sat next to the door; Meg picked up her pen and went on writing. She held her head slightly on one side in her concentration. At thirty-seven she had matured into a great beauty. She wore a dark grey business suit, with a skirt to just below her knees, and a short coat reaching her waist. After a while I got up. Time was marching on and I had a lot to do.
‘Going so soon, Uncle James? Why not have a coffee and come home with me in an hour?’ Her smile lightened my heart and nearly made me tell her what had happened. I couldn’t talk because of the frog in my throat so I shook my head, managed a smile again and left. For a moment I thought she was going to come after me and I knew that if she did I’d have told her. I wasn’t strong enough. I cursed myself for my weakness.
Evan was down on the floor by the dairy produce counter. I stood and watched him for a while talking to Sonny, oblivious of my presence, half hidden by a rack of shelves. At thirty-nine he was a fine figure of a man who had a commanding presence about him but somehow managed to seem approachable as well. The men were never too slow to tell him their problems. He was a born leader and for some time I had hoped to see him as one of the State Congressmen and perhaps even a Senator one day.
I wanted to hear him talk. I wanted very much to see his smile and hear his voice, not just the mumble coming my way. With a sigh I turned away and left the building. It took me a while to find a cab but finally I got one. I knew if I hurried I could see Sion before he went out after school. He had been talking about a new kite or something. I shook my head, my memory was getting worse.
I was too late. I could see he had been and gone. It was a bitter blow. I sat in the study to write my letters. I addressed them both to Evan. The second I marked ‘TO BE OPENED FIRST.’
I wrote: My dearest Evan Meg, Sion and David, This will no doubt come as a great shock to you but when you read this I’ll be dead. Evan bach, don’t go running upstairs or upsetting everyone, just sit down and finish reading. I’m now with the angels and I’ve no doubt our lovely Sian is the loveliest of them all. I’ll tell her how much you all miss her and think of her. Believe me, my mind isn’t wandering. I really do think there’s life after death. Upstairs is my body with not a spark of anything in it. My soul will have gone to another place and that’s what matters.
I had a man from a detective agency come up to me today. He had papers to have me sent back to Wales as an undesirable alien. All to do with that night when we escaped from Llanbeddas. I don’t think you ever did understand when I said that I’d nothing before me except loneliness and now I had a reason for living. Remember, Evan? You see Bach, I was going to shoot myself which was why I had the gun handy. Instead I put it to better use. So you see every day since then has been a bonus and every day has meant more to me than the day before. It’s been so exciting hasn’t it? All the things we’ve done. I hope I’ve been able to contribute a little bit towards it. I’ve loved you more than I can say on paper. You know me, I never was all that good with words. Evan, my son – that’s the way I think of you and that’s the way I like it, like Meg is my daughter and the boys my grandsons. See how lucky I’ve been? No man has had such a family like mine. Evan, with me gone there’s no way they can get you back to Wales. That was their idea. They knew if I was taken back you’d come and try to help me. That way they would have got both of us and I would have been hanged and you’d have ended in jail which wouldn’t have done any good for Meg or the boys. The other letter by the way says that I did everything that night. I don’t know whether it’ll help if there is any question of them trying to get you as well but I have stated that it was me at the mansion, not you. I also state that . . . well, you can read it and give it to the detective. I left him in a coffee house on Pennsylvania Avenue fast asleep. Those pills the doctor gave me are pretty powerful. A box of them and I won’t wake up but die nice and quiet in my own bed. Don’t grieve for me I beg you. I want you to have a real good wake. In fact a great wake. Hans and the others will come, I know. I’m sure they know how to send a man to his grave properly. Well, my dears, there’s nothing more to say. I want to write all night but if I go on much further you and Meg will be home and I won’t have the courage anymore. I love you all dearly, God Bless and tell David it’s time he started back to church.
Goodbye, my dears,
Uncle James.
BOOK 4
The Story of Sion
1899
30
‘Evan dinner won’t be long,’ Meg called. ‘Sion, go and see where Uncle James is.’
Sion called upstairs and then went out back. Evan went into his study to leave some papers and saw the two letters sitting on his desk. He picked them up, recognising Uncle James’ hand writing. For some reason he was struck with foreboding. He tore open the letter marked ‘TO BE OPENED FIRST’, the first sentence made him sit down in shock. For a moment he could not, would not, believe it. When he finished the letter he knew it was true and that Uncle James was dead. In a daze he stood up. Over and over in his mind was why? Why? Why? They could have fought it. And if they could not have beaten it they could have gone elsewhere. It was a big country. There must have been another answer. Walking towards the door, he heard Sion call something but it took a few seconds to realise what he had said.
Sion was bounding up the stairs when Evan shouted for Sion at the top of his voice, but he was too late. Evan saw his son come to the banister, a sickly white look on his face. At his shout Meg had hurried in from the kitchen.
‘What on earth . . .’ she began and stopped, seeing the look on her husband’s face as he stared up at Sion. Evan suddenly ran up the stairs and into Uncle James’ room. The old man was laying on his bed, looking as though he was asleep. For a second Evan hoped but even as the spark flared it died within him. Meg was right behind him.
‘Oh my God, Unc
le James!’ she ran to the bed just as Evan finished checking for his pulse.
‘It’s no good love,’ he said softly, ‘he’s dead.’
Meg put her arms around Evan, crying, as Evan led her from the room. Sion was standing on the landing, white faced and also on the verge of tears.
‘Go and tell the marshal, son, and tell him Uncle James is dead. Ask him who we have to notify, will you? Oh, and . . . and,’ Evan cleared his throat, ‘ask him if it makes any difference that it was suicide.’
Meg and Sion gasped. ‘Suicide?’ Sion asked. ‘But it can’t have been, Dad. What would Uncle James want to commit suicide for?’
‘To save me going to prison, that’s why. Now hurry up, Sion,’ Evan said more harshly than he intended.
Meg looked at Evan in horror. ‘What on earth do you mean? Why should you go to prison? You haven’t done anything,’ she paused. ‘Evan, what on earth’s going on?’
‘Let’s go down to the study and I’ll tell you. There’s a letter there from Uncle James which explains it all. Damnation,’ he cried, ‘why didn’t he come and talk to me? Why didn’t he come and say something?’
They slowly walked to the study. ‘Here, read this,’ he thrust the letter into Meg’s hands.
Shakily he went across to the drinks cupboard and got them both a large whisky.
Meg’s hand was trembling as she took the glass, though her tears had stopped. ‘Poor Uncle James,’ she said softly.
Evan nodded. ‘It’s all my fault . . .’ he began.
‘Don’t be silly Evan. If you hadn’t gone back in the first place Uncle James would have been long dead and we wouldn’t have had his company for so long. It’s not your fault. Goodness, he was a wonderful old man. I wondered why he’d been so strange this afternoon. I almost stopped him leaving. God, why didn’t I stop him?’ Meg began to cry again.