Miss Freda had taken Evelyne at her word. She had been round the second-hand shops, run-down tailor’s shops, bespoke tailor’s, pawn shops. With an eagle eye for a bargain she bartered and argued and scrimped, and saved a penny here, twopence there. There was a dreadful pink satin ballgown that she could pull the beads from and hand-stitch instead round the collar of a fawn suit, the pinkish beads setting off the fawn of the jacket.
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Accustomed to rising early, Evelyne was sitting on the window-seat with her legs curled beneath her when Freda arrived at seven-fifteen. Poor Freda looked pale, with deep circles beneath her eyes, but she had brought four garments, all finished down to the buttons. She was able to double her money on each item, but she didn’t feel she was cheating Evelyne, she had cut and sewn all night long and she would defy anyone to tell what or whose they had once been.
Freda hid in the bathroom when Evelyne called down for some coffee to be sent up to suite twenty-seven, and stayed there until the waiter delivered the steaming pots.
They discussed Evelyne’s outfits and talked about what sort of hat she needed to go with each. Evelyne counted out the shillings and pennies, double-checked it and handed the money to Freda, then she went into the bathroom to brush her hair. Returning to the bedroom she found Freda curled up like a dormouse on the unmade bed, so deeply asleep, she didn’t even stir when Evelyne slipped the eiderdown round her tiny shoulders.
The rest of the day was spent in shopping and carefully choosing material and one pair of shoes that would be suitable for all the outfits.
Ed Meadows was waiting in the lobby when Evelyne got back, and he rushed her up to Sir Charles’ suite.
Freedom Stubbs had turned down Sir Charles’ offer to take over his case, refusing point-blank, although thanking Sir Charles for his time and obvious expense. Sir Charles had pulled many strings and had his motorcar waiting to take Evelyne to the jail. She must talk to him, tell him he was being foolish and would hang for it unless he accepted their offer.
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***
Ed Meadows sat in the front of the car with the chauffeur, and gave Evelyne details of the offer, making it sound simple and, of course, to Freedom’s advantage. Sir Charles wanted Freedom to sign a contract to be under his sole management.
‘We reckon he could be a contender, see Evie, me and the guv’nor want to train ‘im, like, get ‘im ready. It’s a fair contract, all the money ‘e laid out for the court case, legal fees and what ‘ave you, would be comin’ out of whatever ‘e’d earn as a boxer.’
Evelyne, clutching the contract, was led through the jail to the visiting room. This time the prison officers were cordial and called her ‘ma’am’. Freedom was brought into the small room in handcuffs, but he had bathed and shaved. His hair was shining, and was braided down his neck. He sat, head bowed, opposite her, and the officer told Evelyne quietly that she could stay as long as she wanted.
One officer was left on duty inside the room, as usual, and another outside the door, but this time the room was not locked.
‘Well, what have you got to say for yourself, Freedom? You know how much trouble I’ve been to, and Sir Charles, you can’t say no, you must be out of your mind.’
Freedom looked down at his hands and pursed his lips. Evelyne leaned over and whispered that no one was concerned about anyone else, nothing had been mentioned about anyone else’s involvement, no names. All they were interested in was his innocence or guilt.
‘You are innocent, I know it, I can stand up and prove it in Willie’s case, but you’ll have to say where you were on the days when the other lads were killed.’
Freedom shifted his weight but still he would not
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look up and meet her eyes. He remained silent, infuriating Evelyne.
‘Sir Charles Wheeler’s no ordinary man, he can help you in your boxing, all you’ve got to do is sign this contract an’ he’ll make you a contender.’. Having misunderstood what Ed Meadows had said, Evelyne had no idea what ‘contender’ meant. Freedom smiled, still with his head down, his eyes averted.
‘You sign this and he’ll take all the court costs out of what he’s agreed to pay you. It’s a chance for you, you can’t throw it away.’
Still he said nothing, and she tried cajoling and various other approaches.
‘Do you not want to box, is that it?’
Freedom lifted his head and stared at her, then turned to face the prison officer. ‘Aye, I want that, I just don’t want no one else to be involved.’
She knew he was thinking of Rawnie and Jesse, and she couldn’t believe it. Her temper got the better of her. ‘You are a fool, you know that, a stubborn fool, I don’t know why I’m wasting my breath on you!’ ‘
‘And I don’t know why, you tell me, I don’t know why I deserve this, no one has ever fought for me before, why you, what do you want?’
‘Because you’re innocent, that’s why, I’d do it for any man who was about to hang when I knew he shouldn’t.’
She laid out the contract and read down the detailed, neatly typed pages. She turned it over, Sir Charles was guaranteeing Freedom a wage, and a fair one as far as she could see.
‘Is there something here you don’t agree with, is it too long a contract, is that it?’
Freedom rubbed his head, glanced at the attentive
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prison officer and then said in a barely audible voice, ‘I can’t read, I don’t read.’
Evelyne could see his embarrassment, and she got up to ask the officer if she could move her chair round the table to discuss the contract with the prisoner.
They sat close and she whispered each clause of the contract, her finger tracing the lines. He sat, head bent, staring intently at the pages.
‘He promises to give you accommodation at his estate outside London for the time you will be training until the time you desire to find your own establishment. These costs will be deducted from your wages together with the costs this case will incur. He also wants you to have a suit ordered for the trial, and …’ Evelyne looked at him, his face close enough for her to touch. He was not paying any attention to the contract but looking at her closely, scrutinizing her face. She turned back to the papers, blushed, coughed, and started again.
‘Clause four, this one down here, says you will be contracted to Sir Charles for five years, after that time you will be free either to renew your contract with him or not, as you choose. This contract is valid for all parts of the world.’ As she turned the page her hand brushed against his, and he moved his handcuffed wrists further way.
‘He, Sir Charles, that is, has the right to bring all contractual obligations here assigned to termination at any date he so wishes.’
She opened her bag, and the officer moved a step into the room. She held up a pen, then looked at Freedom. ‘You going to sign it? You have to, it’s the only chance you have, and I think it’s a pretty fair deal.’ Freedom nodded, and with her hand guiding his he signed his initials, ‘F.S.’
Evelyne promptly folded the contract and slipped it
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into her handbag. Freedom looked at her with a strange expression, then he looked away and kept his voice low as he said, ‘You gimme your word they’ll not try to bring in my friends.’
Evelyne snapped her bag shut and nodded her head. ‘You have my word, and I want yours that you’ll give Sir Charles any information not concerning your friends that’ll help you, will you promise me that?’
Freedom promised, and she gave the officer a look to let him know the meeting was over. She went to walk straight out, but then she stopped, bent her head towards Freedom and lightly kissed his cheek. It was a friendly gesture, there was nothing sexual and no intention of it being so. As the door closed behind her she turned back and saw him through the small window. He held his handcuffed hands over his face, and he seemed defeated.
When Freedom took his hands away from his face the tears were wet on his cheeks.
He was crying, without a tremor, without a sound. His dark eyes blinked, and with one gesture the tears were gone, and he rose and lifted his hands to the officer. He was ready to be returned to the cells.
***
Sir Charles Wheeler brought Ed sharply down to earth. The fact that Freedom had signed their contract was no reason for celebration. They still had to prove the boy innocent and that was not going to be easy. He turned to Evelyne, checking his watch, and told her that they had a meeting with the lawyers in one hour. He didn’t exactly dismiss Evelyne, but he told her he had things to do, and Dewhurst hovered at the door to usher her out. ‘Have you the finances to remain here, Miss Jones? As I recall, you had only booked in for three days. The
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case could take a considerable time to get to court and you are the star witness.’
Evelyne was in a bit of a dilemma. Basically, she did have the money, but that would mean dipping into her precious legacy, and she had always taken great pains not to touch it unless absolutely necessary. But if she said she didn’t have it, would Sir Charles pay for her room, or would she be moved elsewhere?
Sir Charles took her silence to mean she did not have enough money, and with hardly a pause for breath he turned to Dewhurst and gave instructions to have Miss Jones’ account at the hotel given to him. He did not even wait for her to thank him, but strode into the study with Ed at his heels.
Evelyne wanted to dance along the corridor, she could still stay here, and for free. She could have as many baths as she liked, as many cream cakes, and all paid for by Sir Charles.
***
The lawyer’s office was dark, wood-panelled and lined with books. One whole wall was taken up with yellowing documents. The desk was claw-footed and covered in more of the same thick, yellowing documents. Smethurst swept into the room wearing his gown, having come directly from the court. His domed head was framed by a strange fringe of orange hair sprouting out at the sides, but the thickness of his eyebrows made up for the lack of hair on the top of his head. Mr Smethurst was a junior partner, but Evelyne decided that if he was a junior then the senior partners must all be really ancient.
Smethurst, Humphrey George, Esquire, had a booming voice, and his flabby hand gripped Sir Charles’ in a pulverizing handshake. ‘Charlie, well, Charlie, sit down,
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sit down old chap, you must be Miss Jones, seat, take a pew all of you, be back in a tick.’
They could hear his booming voice as he called for someone named Ethel to get the kettle on the boil for tea. He returned quickly, minus the gown and pulling on a Harris tweed jacket, almost the colour of his hair. His baggy trousers and heavy brogues were covered in mud. His Old Harrovian tie had worked its way around to the back of his neck, and the collar of his crumpled shirt stuck up. He and Sir Charles had been at school together.
‘Right, I’ve done a bit of prelim on this, and I’m afraid things don’t look too good, not good at all … Ahh, Ethel, thank God, I’m parched … tea, everyone? Oh, and Ethel some ginger nuts, there’s a good gel.’ He poured tea and talked constantly as it slopped into the saucers, then waved the milk liberally over the whole tray.
‘Now, my gel, let’s take a look at your statement, jolly well written and clear as a bell, but we have one problem the opposition will be on to like hawks… How long have you known this fella? Two — no, don’t interrupt me, tell me when I’ve finished. Right, point two, you state you were at a boxing match up on Highbury Hills, right? Yes, now I have to have witnesses to that fact, witnesses to say you were not, not, with the gypsy people, but there under your own steam, so to speak, and that before that date you had no connection with the … the er … chap, Freedom Stubbs. These two points are extremely important because what they will throw at you is that you were, you are, fabricating the whole story to enable us to get the chap free … so I will have to ask you certain … delicate questions, that will no doubt be asked by the prosecution council.’
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Smethurst listened attentively to Evelyne as she stated clearly that until the time of the first boxing match she had never set eyes on Freedom Stubbs.
‘So tell me, what does an attractive young woman like you want to take up with this gypsy for?’
Evelyne was up on her feet and banging on the desk in fury at Smethurst’s insinuations. He leaned back and raised his eyebrows. ‘So I am to take it that there is no romantic connection, purely a platonic friendship on your part with this gypsy, yes? Have you ever had any form of sexual relationship with him? And, further, do you intend to do so should this lad be set free?’
Evelyne banged the desk again, saying she had never ever had such thoughts and nothing was further from her mind. All she was interested in was Freedom’s innocence. ‘I saw that girl, I saw the girl the lads raped, and I believe in British justice, they will not let an innocent man hang.’
Smethurst gave her a slow hand-clap and pushed his chair back from his desk.
‘I think, Charlie, she’ll be wonderful, and as you said, like a tigress, but I’m afraid, Miss Jones, you’ll have to control that temper of yours. In the witness stand it is imperative that you behave like a lady at all times, never raise your voice — never — just answer clearly and concisely, understand?’
Suddenly he threw a question, like a dart, towards Evelyne.
‘So who do you think killed those miners, hum? Any ideas?’
She swallowed and looked down at her hands, licked her lips and lifted her head to stare straight into Smethurst’s bright eyes.
‘I have no idea, sir.’
He chucked the pencil down and opened a drawer,
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took out some toffees and unwrapped one. ‘That was a lie, but don’t… no, don’t argue with me, I don’t want to know, just tell me whether Freedom Stubbs himself is innocent.’
Evelyne kept her voice level, her eyes fixed firmly on Smethurst. ‘He did not kill those lads.’
‘Good, good, because I don’t think he’s guilty either. Right, let’s get started, yes?’ He flicked a look at Sir Charles who caught it like a tennis player and with a brief nod to Evelyne instructed her to wait in his car.
Smethurst waited until the door closed behind Evelyne before speaking. His manner changed slightly, he grew quieter, less expansive. He unwrapped another toffee. ‘I think, Charlie, it’s best that you let Miss Jones settle her own accounts at the hotel. By all means hand her the finances, but I don’t want it known you are paying her way. Secondly, I shall check all the alibis the fellow has and then get back to you, leave the statements of Collins and Lord Carlton to her … Oh, and fix the gypsy up, you know, get him a suit, looks better if he’s respectable, I think that’s about it for now.’
As Sir Charles rose to leave, Smethurst rocked in his chair.
‘You still see that chap you used to adore at school, Willoughby something-or-other? Still fond of him, are you?’
Sir Charles prodded the floor with his cane. ‘Killed in action, Ypres.’
‘Oh, sorry, nice fella … so, Charlie, you think you’ll have a champion, do you?’
Sir Charles smiled softly, leaned on his cane. ‘When have I ever been wrong? So, what do you think our chances are?’
Smethurst sniffed, sucked at his toffee. ‘Not good, but then I have never lost a case. I’d like to get Freddy Carlton’s statement sewn up, and that other bloke, Collins. Push those through, they are rather important.’ Sir Charles already had the door open and his trilby sat on his head at a jaunty angle. He tapped his cane. ‘Leave it to me … Thank you, Ethel, for the delicious tea and ginger nuts, good afternoon.’
***
Smethurst rocked backwards, then swivelled round in his chair. He thought Sir Charles was still the unfathomable gent he had been at school. The question of fees hadn’t even arisen, but he was sure he would make a fair amount.
‘Ethel, I think, dear heart, we’d better get the press on our side for this one, start calling them, would you?’
>
The case was by no means easy, and if the truth be known Smethurst felt they didn’t stand a chance in hell of acquittal. The gypsy was, after all, charged with not one murder but four … but, by Christ, it would make headlines, and with the society mixture Smethurst knew he had a very potent cocktail.
***
Chapter 14
Evelyne could feel her whole body tense up. Her mouth went dry, but there was no turning back now. The operator was on the line, and with an encouraging nod from Miss Freda she went into her carefully rehearsed speech. ‘Would you please put me through to Lord Frederick Carlton’s residence, the number is Cardiff five-five-four …’
Miss Freda moved closer, listening. Evelyne covered the mouthpiece. ‘It’s going through, don’t get so close, you make me nervous.’
Miss Freda edged away. Evelyne went red, swallowed. ‘Hello, is that you? Er’, you may not remember me, but my name is … oh … oh yes, I would like to speak with Lord Freddy Carlton please … Evelyne Jones …’
‘What did he say? What, what?’
Evelyne hissed, ‘It was the butler, shusssshhhhh …’
Freddy reached for the phone, irritated. These newfangled things were a dreadful intrusion on one’s privacy. Even more so with a friend like David Collins. One was forced to accept calls from God knows who, and on reverse charges. He snapped into the phone. ‘Yes, speaking … who is this? Who …? No, I’m sorry …’
Freddy was about to replace the phone. ‘Evelyne who? Who?’
Frantic, Evelyne looked at Miss Freda. ‘Oh, please don’t put your phone down, sir, not until you have heard what I have to say, it’s very important.’
Miss Freda was gesticulating wildly. Evelyne covered the mouthpiece.
‘You don’t ‘ave to shout, darlink, they can hear you as if you were in the same room, don’t shout.’ Evelyne started again.
‘Do you recall the boxing match? With the gypsies? The night there was a … hello? Hello, are you still there? Oh, Freda, I can’t hear him now, there’s no sound at all coming out.’
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