The Legacy l-1

by Lynda La Plante

  Evelyne leant even further across to him, trying to make him look into her face, but his head remained bowed. ‘You can’t just accept it, you can’t, because I know you didn’t …’

  Freedom looked up, his face was hard, and now his voice was firm, though still not loud. ‘You know nothing, go back to your village, manushi, go back, this is not your business. Forget what you know — she must never be mentioned, understand me?’

  She knew he meant Rawnie, and she leant back against the wooden chair. He was prepared to say nothing, prepared to hang … she couldn’t believe it.

  ‘Will you do nothing? Freedom…’ His name sounded hollow and foolish, and he turned to the officer and jerked his head for the door to be opened. The officer banged on the door with his wooden baton and it was unlocked from outside. With a hesitant look at the officer, Freedom waited to be allowed to stand.

  ‘Do you have proof that you were not in Cardiff for the other killings? Freedom? Where were you? Freedom?’

  Standing, Freedom dwarfed the prison officer who only came up to his shoulders. He didn’t look back but walked straight to the door, and it was not until he bent his head to avoid the doorframe that he turned to look back at her.

  His dark eyes were expressionless, black, his powerful arms bound by the handcuffs. He was like a magnificent wild beast trapped by man, unbowed and undaunted. He gave Evelyne a quick, unfathomable smile, then he was gone.

  Miss Freda linked arms with Evelyne as they walked away from the prison. The girl was silent, her body stiff, her hands cold to Freda’s touch. One of the prison officers had walked through the waiting room and mentioned to another that the gyppo killer had not said a word during his time in the jail.

  ‘That his woman in there with him, is it? She’ll do no good, he’s for the rope and he knows it.’

  Miss Freda still did not know the truth behind Evelyne’s visit, surely it could not just be because she believed the lad innocent, there must be more than that.

  In the middle of the street Evelyne suddenly stopped, her face angry, eyes blazing.

  ‘They’ll not hang him, Freda, I won’t let them, he’s like a child in there, a foolish, stubborn child.’

  Together they returned to Freda’s small lodgings. The room was cluttered with hatboxes, and in pride of position in the centre of the room was Freda’s sewing machine. From the garret window Evelyne could see a long line of men waiting for the dole, and there were children begging in the street.

  ‘I won’t let them hang him, he’s innocent, I’m going back, and I’ll keep going back until they take me seriously and do something about it.’

  Freda patted her arm soothingly and at the same time tried to measure her for a sleeve.

  ‘I don’t want a new dress, Freda, I’m sorry, I’m not going to walk away from him, I’m going to make him see sense, I have to.’

  Frightened that Evelyne would ask for her money back, Freda wanted to weep. She was so short of cash that she’d already spent the two pounds ten on back rent. ‘You seem so sure he is innocent — I know, don’t get angry … I know you say you were with him, he could not have killed that boy in your village, but Evie, what of the others?’

  Evelyne still stared down at the growing line of poverty-stricken, unemployed men. ‘He’s killed no one, I know it, there are things I can’t speak of… but I will, I’ll make him let me.’

  Back at the prison, at first the warder was most unhelpful. Evelyne refused to budge, she had to see Freedom Stubbs, and it was her right. The prisoner was entitled to a lawyer. She opened her purse and took out a shilling. ‘And you’ll have another after I’ve seen him.’

  She was taken to the visiting room and told to wait. At long last, after two hours, she heard the footsteps of the warder returning.

  ‘You got two minutes and then he has to go back, I’ll lose me job, ma’am, I’m trusting you to behave yourself.’

  Evelyne clenched her fists, nodded her head. Another fifteen minutes passed before she heard the sound of keys turning, iron doors opening and closing, and then heavy footfalls. Freedom was ushered in, head bowed, lips tight.

  ‘He didn’t want to see you, ma’am, so much for all your trouble … now, you, sit down, I’ll be right outside the door.’

  They were alone, and she sat opposite him. ‘We’ve got two minutes, so let’s not waste it. Will you listen to me, Mr Stubbs? If you won’t help yourself then I am going to do it, whether you like it or not.’

  His teeth were so tightly clenched she could see a muscle twitching at the side of his mouth. He refused to look up.

  ‘Now then, I have the time of the murder at the picture house, and I know for certain I was with you. Now where were you on the other occasions? I’ll check out your whereabouts and try to prove you were not in Cardiff when the other lads were killed. Are you listening to me? Will you not stand up and fight? Fight for your own life?’

  Still he was silent and she could feel his anger. She leaned forward, whispered, ‘I’ll give you my word I’ll not mention Rawnie, or Jesse, I’ll not ever say their names, and that’s God’s truth.’

  Her face was close to his, her hands on the table, and he moved so fast it shocked her. His shackled hands reached over and grabbed her wrists hard, hurting her, and she was frightened.

  ‘Woman, go away, you’ve no business here.’ For the first time he looked into her frightened face, and then he moaned, rubbed her wrist softly.

  ‘I didn’t mean to frighten you, girl, I’ll not hurt you.’

  She swallowed, he was still holding her wrists, she could see where the handcuffs had cut into his skin. She eased her hands away.

  ‘Do you not understand? They’ll say you’re a gyppo lover, just like I heard them screaming at you when I was inside the wagon. You’ll be treated like dirt — you’ll get no respect, they’ll drag your name in the muck alongside mine.’

  She slapped the table between them. ‘I don’t care, I want to help you, can’t you understand that, I need to help you?’

  He cocked his head to one side and looked at her, repeating the word ‘need’ as a question. Evelyne bit her lip and felt the tears welling up. She sniffed. ‘Oh, you won’t understand, but I never see things through, you know? I’ve not even taken my examinations, I’m not a qualified schoolteacher, and then, well, last time I was here … I’ve never had the fight in me, not for myself. I’ll fight for you, I want to see you released, I want to give you your name, Freedom.’

  A tear trickled down each of her cheeks, and he lifted his hands to wipe them away, but she recoiled. ‘I don’t know what I’m crying for. It’s you that should be weeping, will you not stand up for yourself, man? I’ll stand alongside you, I give you my word, and I’ve got a bit of money for a lawyer.’

  The key turned in the lock, and Freedom stood up. He was walking to the door of his own free will. At the door he stopped, his back to her, and his voice was so soft she could only just hear it.

  ‘Take your fight, manushi, take it for yourself, there’s naught ye can do fer me. Don’t come back, I don’t want to see you again, I won’t see you … walk away if you know what’s best, and get your teaching qualifications.’

  He was gone, the visiting-room door stood open and the warder was looking at her. ‘All the same, ungrateful animals, you wasted your time. Go on, love, go home.’

  She handed him his shilling, and he looked at it, then looked her up and down. He shook his head. ‘Keep your money, lovey, you look as if you could do with a good meal inside you, now go on, go home.’

  Freda watched as the coppers, the shillings and a half-crown tumbled out on to the sewing-machine table. ‘You love this man, Evelyne, is that what it is?’

  Evelyne was stunned, her mouth dropped open. She had never thought of that. ‘Good heavens no, he’s a gypsy, Freda, but that doesn’t mean he has no right to a fair trial… Oh, I feel so good, elated, you know. I’m doing something really worthwhile, and what’s more I’m going to see it through
… I’ll be at the hotel, I’ll leave the dresses and things to you, just make sure you make me look like a real lady.’

  Freda was rendered speechless. She wondered if Evelyne was one of those suffragettes she’d read about, they were always going on about people’s rights.

  ‘Remember, Freda, if I look good in court then people’ll want to know where I got the clothes from, you’ll be back in business, what do you say?’

  Freda picked up the money and was already delving into her pattern book as Evelyne ran down the wooden staircase.

  Ping! went the desk bell, and Mr Jeffrey whipped round, picked up the key to suite twenty-seven and banged it on the desk.

  ‘Will you want a table reserved for dinner, Miss Jones?’

  Evelyne turned to him, and for the first time she wasn’t in any way ashamed or embarrassed. ‘Not at those prices I won’t, thank you.’

  She was off to the lift before Mr Jeffrey could close his open jaw. Good God, she’s got herself a suite and now she was acting up like she was a duchess.

  The lift-boy was about to clang the lift shut on Evelyne’s coat when she turned and gave him a look. ‘Just you try it, lad, an’ you’ll get the back of my hand. Time you learnt some manners.’

  Ed Meadows was tapping on Sir Charles Wheeler’s door when he overheard Evelyne’s remark. He turned to her and grinned.

  ‘Good on yer, gel, cheeky little blighter, ain’t ‘e?’

  Evelyne smiled, picked up her evening newspaper and put her key in the door.

  ‘You from round these parts, are you?’

  Evelyne had already opened her door and gave him a rather frosty look. Being friendly was one thing, but he was a little too chatty. ‘I’m from the valleys, good evening to you.’

  Getting no reply from knocking on His Lordship’s door, Ed waddled towards Evelyne.

  ‘I’m from London, suppose you can tell by me accent I’m not Welsh, I’m up ‘ere wiv me guv’nor, name’s Meadows, Ed Meadows.’

  He brandished a rather dog-eared card at Evelyne.

  ‘Boxing promotor and trainer, ‘Ackney, London.’

  Evelyne took the card and gave a curt nod, then realized she was behaving a little rudely.

  ‘Evelyne Jones.’

  As they shook hands, Sir Charles appeared at the door of his suite. He was dressed in a plum-velvet smoking jacket. Ed Meadows turned, then stepped back and introduced Sir Charles to Evelyne. Very debonair, Sir Charles strode up to Evelyne and kissed her hand. ‘Charmed to meet you, are you staying long?’

  He wasn’t frightfully interested whether she was or not, and was already heading back towards his open door. Ed beamed at Evelyne and followed the guv’nor, telling him before Evelyne could open her mouth that she was from the valleys. About to enter his suite, Sir Charles smiled. ‘What a coincidence, we were there only the other night. Well, nice to meet you, good evening.’

  The door closed behind them and Evelyne entered her own suite. She bumped the door closed with her behind and tossed the keys on to the bed. Typical Londoners, think there’s only one valley … and then she pulled up, and Sir Charles’ words click-click-clicked in her brain. Surely that titled gent couldn’t have been to her valley … but it would make sense, that man … Evelyne fished in her pocket for Ed’s crumpled card, bit her lip, and then before she could change her mind she strode out of the suite and along the corridor.

  Dewhurst opened the door to Sir Charles’ rooms, and stiffly enquired if she had an appointment. Behind him Ed Meadows bellowed, ‘Who is it?’

  Sir Charles was sitting at a small desk. There was a big fire in the grate and there were so many doors leading off the main room that for a moment Evelyne thought she had got confused, perhaps he lived at the hotel, surely he wouldn’t have all this space just for one person? He fixed his monocle into his left eye and looked at Evelyne. ‘Ah, yes, now what can I do for you?’

  Evelyne’s nerve almost deserted her, but she blurted it out as fast as she could. Had they been to the Freedom Stubbs fight? She was a friend of his and he was in prison, but he wasn’t guilty and she wondered if they could advise her what she could do. Her knees buckled slightly as she finished, she could feel the flush creeping up her cheeks.

  Sir Charles leaned back in his chair and his monocle popped out. He swung it on the end of the black ribbon round his neck.

  ‘Dewhurst, bring the young lady in. I’m sorry, please forgive me, I didn’t catch your name …? Ah, Evelyne, yes, yes of course, a drink, dear? What would you care for?’

  Evelyne said sherry because it was the first thing that came into her head, and Dewhurst placed a chair for her close to the desk and backed out of the room. Ed Meadows moved to stand behind Sir Charles, and asked Evelyne what she knew of the gypsy and how was she involved. ‘They say he’s killed four lads and you say different, that right?’

  Sitting in the cosy, firelit room, Evelyne told them what she knew, took them right back to the first time when she had seen Freedom fight Dai ‘Hammer’ Thomas. She was taken aback because Ed Meadows kept interrupting her, asking all sorts of questions about other fights she knew of, had she seen him fight anywhere else in Wales? Did she know about the knockout in the ring the other night? Sir Charles eventually put his hand on Ed’s arm and, looking directly at Evelyne and speaking very slowly, asked again why, exactly why, she had come to see him.

  ‘Because he’s innocent and I can prove it. I’ve offered to go into court, and I just don’t think they’re going to pay any attention to what I have to say, but I know he didn’t do those murders.’

  Sir Charles listened intently to Evelyne’s story, then excused himself, leaving her alone with Ed.

  ‘ ‘E’s a bit of a toff, but ‘e’s a real gent, know what I mean, a true blue, an’ take it from me I know what I’m talkin’ about, nothin’ he don’t know about the game, he’s even bin to America, United States of America, you know, oh yeah, ‘is Lordship’s a real pro, was a fighter ‘imself, see.’

  They both turned to the closed doors, and Ed, without stopping except to swallow gulps of his frothing black Guinness, continued. ‘Nineteen-o-eight there was the Aussie fella, Jack Johnson, Gawd almighty what a fighter ‘e was, saw that big’un with Jim Jefferson, nineteenten, July fourth, you heard of the Great White Hope? I was there for that wiv ‘im, ‘e took us both over. But yer fighter knockin’ ‘em all into the corners is Dempsey, the man’s a joy ter watch, a joy ter watch, I was there, an’ guess who was sittin’ not two rows in front of me? Special cordoned-off area — Ethel Barrymore, yes, on my life Ethel Barrymore, the famous actress, was watching Dempsey fight, bloody marvellous … pardon the language, miss.’

  Behind closed doors Sir Charles gave quiet instructions for Dewhurst to go down to reception and ask about this Miss Jones, find out how long she’d been staying, et cetera. When he returned to the drawing room Ed beamed at him. ‘My God, this gel knows about fighting, your Lordship.’

  Evelyne hadn’t actually said a word, but she smiled, looking into her sherry glass. Sir Charles replaced his monocle and with his long fingers he drummed on the top of the inlaid writing desk. ‘Tell me, dearie, this Freedom fella, what is your relationship with him?’

  She placed the glass on top of the desk and sat up very straight. ‘There is no relationship, sir, not even a friendship, I simply do not want to see an innocent man hang.’

  She could feel Sir Charles’ eyes carefully noting everything about her from the top of her hair to the scuffed shoes. She was glad Miss Freda had altered her clothes, at least she looked respectable, if not fashionable.

  ‘You say you are prepared to go into the witness box? He is a Romany gypsy, isn’t he?’

  Evelyne nodded, bit her lip. She knew he was trying to imply that there was something between the two of them, and it made her angry.

  ‘I don’t wish to sound rude, dearie, but, well, you don’t look, if you will excuse my saying so, you don’t really look like most of the clientele in this establishment.
I was wondering if you will excuse my rudeness for asking, how you are able to stay at the Grand?’

  Evelyne stood up sharply, her hands gripped at her sides, her face taut. ‘It is no business of yours, but I was left a legacy, and I am quite able to afford the price of this “establishment”. I may not look like the so-called “ladies” I’ve seen parading around the lobby, but I wouldn’t care to dress like them anyway, not that my legacy would run to that height of fashion. I have no other motive but to help a man whom I believe is innocent. There is nothing sexual about my friendship with him, I am only interested in justice. I am sorry to have wasted your time but I took you to be a gentleman who could possibly guide me in what I should do. I can see I was wrong, excuse me.’

  Ed Meadows rose to stop her, but Sir Charles laid his elegant hand on Ed’s arm again. Evelyne reached the door, turned and thanked Sir Charles for the sherry and then turned abruptly and walked out.

  ‘Why d’yer behave like that, sir? I fink she was a true ‘un moment I hear her givin’ that snotty lift-boy a bollockin’.’

  Sir Charles smiled, raised his whisky glass. ‘On the contrary, I would say she’s magnificent, she’s a tigress, Ed m’boy, but we have to be very sure, I’d say that gel will make a first-class witness, and from what I’ve read to date the boy will most certainly need that, plus a lot more. Go and check on a chap called Smethurst, he’s a lawyer, we’ll need the best there is — or the best Cardiff can provide.’

  From the hotel lobby, Ed Meadows asked if Miss Jones would care to have dinner with him, as Sir Charles had suggested it. Evelyne said she had a previous engagement and Ed apologized for disturbing her, but thought he should mention to her that His Lordship had already set the wheels in motion. He was hiring a lawyer first thing in the morning to act on behalf of Freedom Stubbs. He was going to pay a visit to the prison himself, and Ed added that he hoped she was not affronted by his invitation to dinner. Evelyne felt awful and would have liked to change her mind, but she knew she had nothing suitable to wear so she thanked Ed again and said perhaps another time.