The Long Way Home: A moving saga of lost family

by Whitmee, Jeanne

  ‘Shhh.’ He covered her lips with his fingers. ‘What did we promise?’

  ‘When I heard about Marie’s bankruptcy and her husband dying in a car crash, I suddenly saw the perfect use to put Kate’s money to,’ she told him. ‘It wasn’t just a question of finding myself. It was a way I could make a career and help Marie and Sally over a bad time too.’ Her eyes shone. ‘And it’s going to work, Terry. It’s really going to work. For once in my life I’ve done something that’s worthwhile, and it’s actually going to come off.’ She laughed suddenly. ‘But that’s enough about me. I want to hear what you’ve been doing. Bill told me the paper sent you over to Yugoslavia.’

  ‘Yes, to Sarajevo.’

  ‘Was it dangerous?’

  He avoided her eyes. ‘Looking back, yes, it was. When you’re in the thick of it, you tend to forget the danger.’

  ‘What was it like? Tell me, Terry.’

  There was a pause then he turned to look at her, his eyes clouded. ‘It was terrible, Leah. So stupid and futile. Such a waste of human life. Until you’ve seen suffering like that, you haven’t really lived.’

  ‘Oh, Terry.’ She held him close.

  For a moment they were silent. Then, taking her face between his hands, he looked at her. ‘Leah, there’s something I have to tell you.’

  She pulled a face. ‘You look serious?’

  ‘I am. You’d better prepare yourself for a shock. Leah — Ralph Evans is still alive.’

  She gasped. ‘Alive? But he can’t be. His car …’

  ‘It looks very much as though he faked his own death.’

  ‘How do you know this?’

  ‘A guy I work with on the paper has a contact — a relative over in Northern Ireland. He got in touch a few weeks ago. There had been reported sightings of Evans over there more than once since the accident.’

  Leah gripped his hand. ‘But how did they know it was him?’

  ‘It was him all right. This guy persuaded the editor to let him go over and make a few enquiries.’

  Leah frowned. ‘But — I don’t understand. What’s the connection?’

  ‘It seems Evans was an ex-army man; served in Northern Ireland for some time. He was kicked out of the military police some years ago — suspected of double-dealing, though nothing could be proved at the time. He was court martialled for other offences, violence amongst them. Obviously, having faked his own death Ireland was the only place he could run to. The theory is that his friends over there were quick to cash in on his dependency on them, making him work for them in exchange for a forged passport and a ticket to somewhere he’d never be found.’

  ‘A bombing campaign, you mean?’ Leah asked.

  Terry nodded. ‘About a week ago there was a raid on the house where he was staying. A huge arms and explosives cache was discovered and several arrests were made. Unfortunately, Evans escaped.’

  Leah looked at him, her eyes wide with fear. ‘God, Terry, he could be anywhere. We must warn Marie. Suppose he comes here?’

  ‘I don’t think you should tell her. At least, not yet.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘There’s no point in frightening her unnecessarily. I don’t think for one minute that he’d be foolish enough to come here, but if that is his plan, it wouldn’t do to have him warned off.’

  ‘She wouldn’t …’

  ‘She might. After all, he is her husband.’ He took both her hands. ‘Don’t look so scared, Leah. I’m sure she’s in no danger. A careful watch is being kept on all ports and airports. It’s my guess that it won’t be long before he’s caught.’

  She was shaking her head. ‘But if your paper is on to it, surely the story will soon be common knowledge? Marie will know then.’

  He shook his head. ‘There’s a press black-out in force till he’s caught,’ he said. ‘Which is why I’m going to have to ask you to promise me not to breathe a word.’

  ‘Of course I promise, but it’s worrying all the same.’ She put her arms around him. ‘Oh, Terry, when I think of you out there in Yugoslavia — in the middle of all that fighting. You might have been killed,’ she whispered. ‘I might never have seen you again.’

  He kissed her. ‘Well, I wasn’t. I’m here now and we’re together. I’m back in London to stay now. And due for some time off next week.’

  ‘Then you’ll come back — spend it with me?’

  ‘Just try and stop me.’ Over her shoulder he caught sight of the clock. ‘I’m sorry, darling, I’ll have to go now.’ He got up and began to dress hurriedly.

  ‘And I have to be at the bank before they close.’ She broke off, biting her lip as she suddenly remembered her reason for going to the bank. Was it possible that Marie’s request for money had a more sinister motive? She opened her mouth to mention it to Terry, then, without quite knowing why, she closed it again.

  *

  Marie sat by the telephone, waiting for his call. The money was in a sealed envelope in her handbag, on the hall table next to her coat. When the phone began to ring she snatched up the receiver quickly.

  ‘Hello — Ralph?’ At the other end of the line she heard him gasp.

  ‘You fool! Suppose it hadn’t been me?’

  ‘No one else rings at this time of night.’ Her voice was thin and tight with tension. ‘I’ve got the — what you asked for. Do I come now?’

  ‘Yes, as soon as you can. I’ll be waiting. Sure you know where to come?’

  ‘Yes. One mile north of Ringwood on the Salisbury road. Open ground with a clump of trees.’

  ‘Right.’ He rang off without waiting for her reply.

  It was beginning to rain as Marie backed the car out of the garage. A thin drizzle misted the windscreen, obscuring her vision. She hadn’t wanted to attract attention by switching on the lights until she was on the road. As she drove she was acutely aware of the envelope in her bag on the seat beside her; money she had borrowed from Leah — lied to obtain. She despised herself, and hated Ralph for forcing her to do it. Should she have called his bluff and gone to the police? She shuddered, remembering his words: ‘I have friends — ruthless friends.’ She believed him. He would have paid her back. Maybe not right away but later, sometime when she least expected it, and in the subtly cruel way that Ralph was so good at. She’d never have had any peace, wondering — looking over her shoulder.

  The roads were almost empty of traffic and after she left the lighted streets of the built-up area she found the darkness oppressive. It was a relief to get on to the brightly lit by-pass. She reached the small town of Ringwood and followed the signs for Salisbury, her heart beginning to beat dully. She was almost there. Soon she would have to face him.

  It was still raining when she found the place and carefully parked the car so as to be out of sight. The night was so black that once she had switched the car lights off she could see nothing — hear nothing but the patter of rain on the car's roof and the trees rustling in the wind. A sudden tapping on the window made her start violently and her heart almost stopped beating when she turned to see Ralph’s face peering in at her. At first she hardly recognised him. He had grown a beard, and his hair — normally cut short, military fashion — was long and unkempt. She wound down the window.

  ‘The money’s here.’ With trembling fingers she opened her bag, but he was wrenching the door open.

  ‘Get out.’

  ‘Why?’ Cold with fear she thrust the envelope at him. ‘Here’s your money. I’ve kept my side of it. I have to go now.’

  ‘You haven’t finished yet. There’s something else I need you to do.’ He reached into the car and grasped her arm. ‘Get out. Do as I say and be quick about it. There’s no time to lose.’

  Her heart thudding and fear rising in her throat, acid as bile, she followed him. Deep into the trees they went. His fingers round her wrist were as cold and relentless as steel. As her eyes became accustomed to the darkness she saw that they were approaching a disused hut, its roof made up of sheets of corrugated iron o
n which the rain beat a noisy tattoo. Ralph opened the door and pushed her unceremoniously inside. In the dim light coming in through the one dusty window she could just make out that it was furnished with a table and two chairs. On the table was the remains of a hurried meal and a black leather briefcase. She spun round to face him, trying to hide the fear that had turned her legs to water.

  ‘What do you want?’ she asked breathlessly. ‘I’ve done what you asked. There’s nothing else I can do for you.’

  ‘Yes, there is.’ He pulled out one of the chairs from under the table. ‘Sit down there and listen. You’ll have guessed that the money is payment for a passport and a ticket for — a place where I can fade into obscurity. It’s to be handed over early tomorrow morning at Waterloo Station.’

  ‘So …?’

  ‘The man who is to do the swap will be waiting in the buffet,’ he went on. ‘I’m taking no chances on anything going wrong, so you are going to drive me to London — to Waterloo — and you are going to do the swap for me.’

  Her mouth dried. ‘That doesn’t make sense. He won’t know me — won’t trust a stranger. I won’t know how to recognise him.’

  ‘He’ll be waiting in the buffet. All you do is go in and buy a coffee, sit down at a vacant table and put the briefcase on the table. He’ll join you — ask if the seat opposite is free and sit down. He’ll put a folded newspaper on the table. Inside will be an envelope for me. After a moment or two he’ll get up and take the case, leaving the newspaper. You bring it to me. That’s simple enough, isn’t it?’

  ‘I can’t, Ralph. You don’t know what you’re asking.’ Her knees were shaking, ‘If I were to do this I’d be implicated.'

  He grasped her coat collar and pulled her to her feet. ‘You think you’re not already implicated? Let me down now, Marie, and you’ll wish you’d let Costello finish you off all those years ago.’ He thrust his face close to hers. ‘You’ll do as I bloody well say or you’ll be sorry. It only takes one phone call from me and …’

  ‘It won’t work, Ralph. If this person is expecting a man — you …’

  ‘He isn’t. All he knows is that he’ll pick up a briefcase in exchange for the envelope. Once you’ve delivered it to me you can go. And you’ll never see me or hear from me again. You can go on pretending you think I’m dead.’ His eyes glittered in the dimness. ‘Isn’t that worth going to a little trouble for?’

  ‘Why did you do it, Ralph?’ she asked. ‘If I’m to do this for you, I think I have a right to some answers. Why did you fake your own death?’

  He shrugged. ‘I thought it would make things easier for everyone. Don’t pretend you and Dad didn’t wish me dead often enough.’

  ‘You opted out,’ she said scathingly. ‘Because you knew you’d get help from — from the people over there; people you helped in your army days?’

  ‘Something like that.’

  ‘So it was true — all that?’

  ‘Yes. It was true.’

  ‘So what went wrong?’

  He turned from her to pace the tiny room restlessly. ‘It would have been all right. I’d have been long gone by now, only there was a tip-off about — what was being planned. Some bastard must have blown the whistle — informed. If I ever find out who … Some of them were arrested. I got away though. As far as I know no one saw me so I’m still in the clear.’

  He turned to face her. ‘That’s why I have to have that passport now. There’s no time to lose.’ He took a threatening step towards her. ‘No more questions. Give me the money.’

  ‘One more thing, Ralph. Who was it in the car?’ He gave an impatient snort. ‘No one.’

  ‘There was a body. We had a funeral.’

  ‘He was no one, I tell you. Some old wino — a drunk. I picked him up off the street and bought him a few drinks.’ He shook his head. ‘He was old and sick. He wouldn’t have lasted much longer anyway. I did him a favour.’

  ‘You murdered him — used him,’ Marie said quietly. ‘Just as you used David and me, just as you’re using me now.’

  ‘Just as you used me, you mean — keeping quiet all those years about your bastard brats. Just hand over the cash and shut your lying mouth.’

  Resignedly, she handed him the envelope and he pushed it into an inside pocket.

  ‘Right, if you’ve quite finished moralising, we’ll go —’

  *

  Dawn was breaking when they reached the outskirts of London, but already the traffic was quite heavy. Ralph barked out directions to her in a sharp, staccato voice that told her how nervous and jumpy he was.

  The drive had been like a bad dream. Marie had longed desperately for some miracle that would save her; a breakdown — an accident even. As she drove she made wild, impossible plans. If he would only fall asleep she could drive straight to the nearest police station. She glanced at the petrol gauge, cursing herself for filling the tank only the previous morning. She couldn’t even plead that she had run out of petrol.

  At last they reached Waterloo and Ralph directed her to a place where she could leave the car, in a tense silence, Ralph holding her firmly by the arm, carrying the briefcase in his other hand. On the station’s huge concourse the bustle of the day had already begun. They were just two more travellers — anonymous faces in the crowd. No one gave them a second glance.

  As they walked on to the station he whispered to her: ‘Don’t get any clever ideas, Marie. I’m a dead man, remember? I’m not wanted by the police. I’m not missing. If you show the smallest sign that anything is wrong it’ll be the worse for you. From now on you’re in this with me, right up to your neck, remember?’

  She could feel her legs trembling beneath her. Now they’d arrived and the worst part of her ordeal was yet to come. She was aiding a criminal — a murderer — to escape. She would be as guilty as he was if she allowed it to happen, yet what else could she do? As they moved among the morning travellers every bone in her body ached and her eyes burned with fatigue. Nothing could prevent it now. Oh, God, let it soon be over.

  Ralph nudged her. Since they’d arrived at the station he’d grown even more edgy than before. She could feel the tightly coiled tension emanating from him like a vapour. ‘Over there, look’ he said. ‘The buffet bar.’ He rammed a fist painfully into her back just under her shoulder blade. ‘Well — do you see it or don’t you?’

  ‘I see it.’

  He pushed the briefcase into her hand. ‘I’m not all bad, Marie. There’s a little reward waiting for you when you’ve helped me out. Something to make you happy.’ His eyes smiled enigmatically into hers as she looked up at him. ‘Go on then,’ he said. ‘What are you waiting for? And remember what I said. Do as I say and everything will be fine.’ When she hesitated the smile left his lips and his eyes began to gleam dangerously. His voice was sharp and raw with tension as he snapped: ‘Oh, go on, woman. For Christ’s sake get on with it. Once you’ve done it you’re free, understand. Free.’

  I’ll never be free now, she thought despairingly. If I help him to freedom I’ll never know when he might come back. If I fail I could go to prison again. On legs that threatened to buckle beneath her, she began to walk slowly towards the buffet.

  It wasn’t busy. Only a handful of people sat at the tables. There were plenty of empty seats. She bought a cup of coffee and chose a table near the door. Her heart hammered as she placed the briefcase where it could clearly be seen. She sat down. The minutes ticked by. Nothing happened. Her heart pounding, she watched as people came in and out of the buffet. She took a sip of her cooling coffee in a vain effort to appear relaxed. She watched as commuters hurried past outside on the station, each one intent on their own business. All of them blissfully unaware of the drama being acted out just feet away.

  He isn’t going to come, she told herself. And if he doesn’t, what then? She lifted her cup to her lips and realised that it was empty. Should she get another? Should she remain doggedly where she was? Should she leave?

  ‘Is that seat taken?
’

  She started violently as the quiet voice spoke at her shoulder. Strange that she hadn’t seen anyone come in. Perhaps he’d been here all the time, just watching her.

  ‘No — no, it isn’t.’ Her voice sounded thin and strange as she turned to look up at the man. Then her heart almost stopped beating. Her stomach churned sickeningly and she felt her eyes widen and her mouth drop open in shocked surprise. The dark hair was now streaked with grey and the face was heavier and more mature, but nevertheless unmistakable. She would have known it anywhere. It was a face etched on her memory for all eternity.

  Incredulously, she breathed his name: ‘Liam?’

  For a second their eyes locked in stunned mutual recognition. Then she remembered Ralph’s leering smile and his promise of a reward and instantly she knew he had planned all this to pay her back for her deception. She opened her mouth to speak, but suddenly, without warning, Liam snatched up the briefcase from the table and made swiftly for the door. She sprang to her feet. The newspaper! The newspaper with the envelope hidden inside. He’d gone without leaving it. She leapt to her feet.

  ‘Wait!’ She heard her own voice, unfamiliar and shrill with panic. Without that envelope God alone knew what Ralph would do. The heavy door of the buffet swung back in her face, stopping her — delaying her from following. She struggled through it and stood for a moment, her eyes frantically raking the crowd for him. She saw him. He was moving fast, his open trenchcoat flapping behind him. He was making straight for the station exit. If she didn’t catch him — if he got into a taxi or a bus … Then she saw Ralph, standing in the place where she had left him, his back towards her. Liam seemed to be making straight for him, yet so far Ralph hadn’t seen him. Was he going to give Ralph the envelope himself?

  She stopped, her hand flying to her mouth as a sudden fearful possibility occurred to her. The briefcase … had Ralph really put the money into it or did it contain something else — something more deadly.

  The thought barely had time to form in her mind when suddenly it was as though all hell had been let loose. The explosion lifted her off her feet, tossing her aside like a rag doll. She was aware of the flash and the deafening report — a fearful noise that grew louder and louder inside her head like the rushing of a great wind. Her ears seemed to swell to bursting point and pain ripped savagely at her legs. She heard screams, some of which she knew were her own. Confused shouts mingled with the din of breaking glass, pounding feet and falling masonry. They merged into a single high-pitched sonic whine — then the merciful black curtain of oblivion came down, blotting it all out.