by PR Hilton
Without another word, Preston left the cell and locked the door again. Harry's body filled with nervous tension as he pulled up the rough blanket and waited. Prisons like hospitals are never quiet at night but are instead filled with noise. Not the full sounds of the daylight world, but the oddly isolated noises which punch through the quiet moments. Shouts and cries filling the night air. And footsteps, always walking feet. Whether nurses or prison warders, the sound is the same, an odd echo rising and falling in pitch. Harry Royle tried in vain to strain his ears in order to separate the different noises without success. After waiting for hours, he heard a light footfall directly outside and the tell-tale click of a key in the lock. Preston came into the cell very quickly and threw a bag on the bed. Harry was sitting up and swinging his legs off the bed. Preston spoke quickly.
"Harry, put these on and for both of our sakes be as quick as you can and do try and look smart."
Harry opened the bag and pulled out a uniform, it was a duplicate to the one Preston was wearing. He put it on as quickly as possible and was ready in no time at all. Preston looked at him surprised.
Royle laughed quietly.
"You forget I was a Guardsman."
He said this as he pulled down his cap in guardsman's style, with the peak pulled down to cover his eyes.
"You know this might just work. Follow me and don't speak, oh, take these, I've numbered them in the order you'll use them. Right, let's go. And good luck."
"I won't forget this Preston."
The two men went quickly into the corridor. Preston walked just slightly ahead until they reached the end of the landing and then reaching back, he pulled Royle to the side and opening a door, shoved him through it. Preston joined him in the corridor and whispered a final instruction to him.
"Give me a few minutes and then follow this corridor till the end, then take the door on the left using key one. Down the steps and unlock the next with key two. You must lock each door behind you. After locking the second door, walk out and try to act normal, you'll be seen by two gate guards, the rest is up to you. If you make it outside, lose the keys somewhere safe, for both of our sakes."
Without another word, the two men shook hands and parted. Preston retraced his steps and Harry heard the door lock once more. Now he knew he was on his own. He waited and tried to give the warder as much time as he could.
Robert Preston ran through the corridors, hoping that he wouldn't encounter anyone else. He reached his destination without any trouble and unlocking an office door, walked inside, closing it behind him. Inside the room sat a very flushed young warder sitting clutching his stomach and groaning, his face was white and he was sweating heavily. Robert Preston addressed the other officer.
"Right Holland I've covered for you, now if you come with me, I can let you out through the side gate. I'll say you left hale and hearty and you'll not lose a penny and you'll have all night to sleep this bug off. Don't worry I'll cover the rest of your shift for you.
The man looked up.
"Thank you, Robert, this is very kind of you. I don't know what came over me, I've never had the runs like this in my life."
Without another word, Preston led Holland out of the prison through a side gate which was rarely used and which was off limits to all junior staff. After the other officer had left, Preston walked back through and locked up using the large padlock that secured the unused entrance. Holland had come down with a mysterious bout of stomach sickness, courtesy of a bottle of syrup of figs liberally poured into his coffee. Preston felt sorry for him, but the lad had served a greater good and would keep quiet as he would feel he was the one that would be in trouble should anyone find out he was absent from his post when a prisoner escaped.
Harry Royle had waited as long as he dared, he then walked at a steady pace to the first door. He put the key in the lock and holding his breath, turned it, he was through. He locked it behind him and quickly moved to the next door. He slowly pushed key number two home and turned it in the lock. Click and he was through the second door. He took a deep breath and released it slowly. Pushing his shoulders back, he strode out towards the main gates. As he approached them, he heard a voice from over to his right.
"Hey, Preston hope you didn't work that new lad too hard."
Without turning or looking in the direction of the voice, Harry raised an arm and gave a ‘give over' wave towards the distant warder. He heard a laugh behind him.
The main gates opened up before him. He walked through and heard them lock again. He was free. He had only walked a little way from the prison when he heard an engine approaching at speed. He fought the urge to run and instead stood his ground and waited. The car pulled up and a nervous Devon looked out from the opened door.
"Would you like a lift, officer?"
Harry laughed and got in. The car took off fast enough to make space between themselves and the prison, but not fast enough to arouse suspicion. After driving for a short time, Devon Jones pulled up in a quiet street behind a park. Royle recognised it as Alexander Park and sensed the irony. He knew how close he was to Pete and the others, but he'd have to leave them until another time, they could wait. Devon pushed some papers into his hand and he looked down at them.
"What's all this?"
Jones smiled.
"I forgot you've been out of circulation. There happens to be a war on mate. You'll need these. I'll take you through them quickly and then you can run me to the station. That Susan Brown's a nice girl; she could help you if you get stuck."
"Susan? She won't help me."
"Yes she will, I've spoken to her. But don't get any romantic ideas, she's saving all that for Bill, so she tells me."
They both smiled at the strangeness of the conversation. Devon continued to explain the paperwork to his friend.
"Identity card in the name of Peter Manley, Medical card and insurance card, and driving licence. Plus a letter from a lady to Peter, full of promise and romance, well on paper anyway, that one's a present from Jenny. Money, not too much, but enough. Quite a bit really, Johnny insisted on that. He wanted to give you a lot more, but I didn't want it looking odd if you got picked up. Take off the cap, tie and overcoat. Here take my coat. I can't afford to be hatless, not being my colour, you know what it's like. I need to get a train sharpish. So if you can run me to the station and I think you can take it from there. I would do more, but since I've been seen around Johnny and his club and contacts, the coppers could well have followed me. I would get an evening train if I were you, any trouble and you could use the car, but it's not kosher, one of Johnny's last minute contributions. And on second thoughts it might be kinder to leave Susan out of things, she's a nice kid."
"You've done more than enough, above and beyond. I'll be fine, let's get you to your train and I'll see you back home very soon. You're right about Susan, she deserves to be happy."
Royle pocketed the papers and repeated his new cover name over and over to himself. Jones started the car and headed onto the main road.
"I imagine things are very different these days?"
Devon laughed.
"You're joking mate. This war is not going over well at all."
"What do you mean?"
"Well apart from the BBC, who think things will be jolly good, so long as we all pull together and support those in power above us, like good children. People are not fools Harry. Everyone I know is either bored with this so-called war or angry that the government didn't fight harder for the peace."
"But isn't that just Commies and Conchies?"
"No, I'm talking Joe public. As for us, it's easier than it ever was, not enough coppers on the streets. These days things are pretty lax. Hope they stay that way."
They passed the rest of the journey with small talk. Devon wanted his new position at the White Cat to come as a complete surprise to his friend, so said nothing of his new elevation to band leader. They shook hands and as Jones got out at the station, Harry slid into the driving seat. Devon took
off his watch and handed it to Harry. Without another word, Jones ran into the station and was swallowed up by the morning crowd. Harry Royle fastened the smart wristwatch onto his wrist and smiled at his friend's thoughtfulness.
Now he would have to work out a plan of action. He knew that he couldn't hang around the station for hours, that would be too risky. He had thought of telephoning Susan, but that really wouldn't be right. No, he would have to find something to do and somewhere to go. Later in the day he would drive out and get some distance from the city centre and then wait for nightfall before heading back to the station. But first, he would need clothes and something to eat, as his stomach was growling. Harry decided to park the car behind Kendals department store, buy clothes in the store and then walk to the nearest cafe.
Two hours later and with full shopping bags containing his new clothes, Harry decided to return to the car. He had got everything he needed and had enjoyed a good working man's full breakfast, with extra sausage and fried bread and felt readier for the day ahead. The meal was a welcome change from the monotonous prison diet. He was just in sight of the car when a shrill whistle pierced the mid-morning air and brought looks from passers by. For an instant, Royle remained frozen to the spot. Then two other police whistles joined the first and a shout when up.
"Royle stay where you are, you are under arrest."
Without dropping his bags, Harry turned on his heel and bolted. As he ran he shoved a police officer back into a doorway and ran passed. More shouts and whistles were left behind, as the convict ran for all he was worth. He rounded the corner and through Kendals main entrance, knocking over a doorman and shoving past several morning shoppers. He made for the toilets upstairs and once inside the locked cubicle, he quickly changed into his newly bought clothing.
Ten minutes later and with his old clothes stuffed in the shopping bags, a smartly dressed man in a good suit, topcoat and hat, walked across to a display of gentleman's bags and cases and purchased a leather briefcase. As he came away from speaking to the assistant, he passed two policemen; they walked by him without a second glance. Once back on the street he decided to go to the station and wait it out or else get an earlier train. He was so glad that he had got rid of the uniform very carefully, by wrapping it as a parcel and having a salesman in Kendals dispose of it, as unwanted rags. He had tipped the man generously. Harry had previously torn the cap and removed the badge, which he had slipped down a grid, along with the epaulettes. The cap had been forced under an old pile of rotting wood he had come upon near the cafe. Without the cap and prison insignia, the uniform looked like a dark suit and wouldn't, he knew, attract any unwanted attention. Not that the man would have any reason to look inside the parcel.
On arriving at the station, he could see it was crawling with police. He decided to do the last thing they would expect. He booked into the Midland hotel for the night, as it was close by. No questions were asked at the reception desk, beyond the request to see his papers. He enjoyed the rest of the day reading, eating and smoking. The evening was spent in the bar and he then retired to his room with a book purchased at the hotel shop, where he had also bought shaving gear. He had a good night's sleep, only waking up once or twice, mainly because of the quietness of the building, compared to the prison.
The next morning after breakfasting, he paid his bill and strolled over to the train station. He bought a ticket for London and went inside to sit and have a cup of tea. Lighting up a cigarette, he stretched out his legs and put his hat down on the table. He was lost in thought when he heard his train being announced. He knew that he would soon be walking through Soho and his search for Ruth could begin.
It was while he was stood in the queue waiting to board the train that he saw them. Plain clothes men. At first he saw two and then noticed at least three more. They were coming from both directions. He only had one idea. He pushed past the other passengers and jumped onto the train. He pushed back a ticket collector and ran down the carriage, before opening a door on the other side of the train and jumping down onto the tracks. Another train was pulling out going in the opposite direction. He launched himself at it, as it began to pick up speed. He just managed to grab onto it and tried to pull himself on-board. A uniformed hand clasped his and pulled him into the carriage.
"You bloody fool, you could have been killed, you office wallah's are all the same, rush, rush, rush. Ticket?"
He bought a ticket to a station he'd not heard of and to which he had no intention of travelling to. He sat down and looked back down the tracks at the growing crowd of police uniforms that were congregating in the area he had just come from. Royle waited until the conductor had gone from the carriage and then moved further down the train. He managed to find an empty carriage and slipped in. He waited until they were between stations and the train slowed as it began moving up a steep gradient.Tucking his hat inside his suit jacket, Harry braced himself and opening the door leapt through, hitting the thick grassy hill with a bouncing thud. His body rolled until he found himself at the bottom of the hill, bruised and shaken between two large stones. He raised his head and thanked his luck for saving his skull one more time.
Standing up he felt shaken but in one piece. He had no idea where he was and needed to somehow still get to London. He managed to straighten his clothes and wash his hands in a stream. Having walked for an hour, he crested another hill and on the other side discovered a lorry park complete with cafe. He made his way down and having decided to avoid the cafe and the questions that would most certainly follow, walked over to the vehicles. There were six large Lorries, five of which had heavy loads, all fastened-in-place securely. And then he found a truck with a canvas covering the back. Once under the covering he found dozens of empty vegetable sacks and produce boxes. He fastened the back up again from inside and then made himself comfortable while he waited for the driver's return. He didn't have long to wait. All of a sudden the engine fired up and a deep throated vibration began to shake the vehicle. The journey seemed long and before it ended, Royle felt sick.
He felt the truck begin to slow and crawled to the back flap. Looking out he could only see signposts, whose names had been removed for the duration. He silently cursed the war. As soon as the vehicle slowed enough, Royle jumped down and then waited for the truck to move off. Once it was out of sight, he looked about him for a clue as to where he was. He had lost the briefcase back on the train and was concerned about a lack of luggage. He still had his coat and hat, so looked respectable enough.
Around a corner, he could see a post box outside a small shop. He hurried on hoping for a clue. He pushed his way into the shop, causing the little bell on the door to ring. There were two old ladies in the queue. He took the time as he waited to look around the shop. It was a village shop of the classic variety, selling about anything a body could need. Ahead he could see that part of the counter was divided into a post office area. He knew that the place should give a clue to his location, but he hadn't noticed any name. The paintwork outside had seen better days and hadn't been clear enough to read. He knew that he could hardly ask where he was, these old ladies, he thought, might think him a spy and have him arrested. He began to panic and noticed one of the lady's looking at him concerned, she addressed him.
"Are you all right lad?"
The accent was Yorkshire and he decided to take a big chance. Shaking his head he replied.
"Sorry I have a blinding headache, been travelling for days and I really don't know if I'm coming or going. One day Leeds the next York and then Whitby then off to Hull and back again."
He gave the three interested women a weak smile. He had had a brain-wave and hoped it wouldn't seem too weak. He spoke again.
"I got a lift in yesterday and now need to catch a train, could you tell me the direction of the station please, and when it's my turn could I please have a packet of Woodbines and a box of matches."
The old woman behind the counter touched her hair and smoothed down her apron.
&nbs
p; "Well, now young man if it's Scarborough you've a wait, but on the other hand if it's York."
Harry seized on York.
"York bound, that's me."
She smiled and replied.
"Officially there's one leaving in about ten minutes, but it'll be more like twenty if it's a minute. Mind you, you'll have a job making it, as you've just missed the last bus for today."
Before Harry could reply, he noticed a police constable pass the shop window. Royle quickly looked around and could see no obvious escape route.
Chapter 10
The shop bell sounded and the uniformed man walked in. The lady behind the counter grinned at the newcomer.
"Rodney dear can you direct this nice young man to the station? He needs to catch the York train."
The policeman looked at Harry.
"Glad to Mrs Mason."
He glanced at Royle and remained thoughtfully silent for several seconds.
"Come on old lad, I think you need to come with me".
Harry felt unable to refuse. Once outside he spoke again to Royle.
"You're in luck, today I've got the wireless car, I'll run you to the station as it's a bit far and you'll never make the York train, even if it's late, as usual."
The constable was uninterested in Royle and far more interested in his lunch, which waited for him back at the station. The short journey would have been pleasant if Harry hadn't been keyed up and set to expect the worse.
Unlike Malton, which had been remote and cold, even for November, York was warmer and seemed very welcoming. Harry had been surprised at York station, in many ways it reminded him of London with its vaulted roof and bustling crowds. He saw plenty of uniforms, but most were just military men and women going about their regular business. He made his way out of the station and moved off along Station Road towards what he heard someone say was the Minster.