John Francome - Declared Dead

As he chuckled to himself, I could swear I heard a car pull up outside, and then a door slam. I could just make out the sound of footsteps in the road outside. It had to be Amy, coming back for her file. Edward had moved back to the bed and was too engrossed in caressing my hair to notice. My heartbeat began to quicken even more as I realised that Freddie and I might have a chance. I listened for a sound from downstairs, a knock on the door, a ring on the bell. None came. Only footsteps again in the road, and this time the slam of the car door was followed by an engine starting. I wanted to shout out, but I knew it was hopeless. It was all over.

'How about letting me have it for one last time, for old time's sake?' Edward asked, sending a cold shiver down my spine. He didn't wait for an answer, and I watched him fumbling with his trousers. For the first time he put the knife down and he rolled on top of me. I closed my eyes and prayed. I just heard the tiny movement of the door as it was pushed open. I kissed him long and hard to ensure his undivided attention. Freddie must have woken up and I desperately waved my right arm at him to make him go away, all the while keeping Edward's attention on me as best as I could bear.

The force of the first blow on Edward's head drove his tongue deep into my mouth. The second and third rendered him limp and motionless. I opened my eyes and through my tears I looked up to see my saviour. Amy was clutching the bronze.

This time the blood on it was indisputably Edward's. Regaining her composure she rolled him off me on to what used to be his side of the bed.

'He's stopped breathing,' I whispered, still trying not to wake Freddie. Amy bent over him and listened to his heartbeat. 'He may have been declared dead, but Edward Pryde is still very much alive.'

At that moment, Freddie appeared in the doorway, and I ran to him and picked him up and put him back to bed.

'Who was that man on the bed, mummy? He looked like daddy.'

'You just go back to sleep and I'll tell you all about it in the morning.'

Amy sat with my gun pointed at Edward, while I went downstairs and telephoned Inspector Wilkinson.

Edward was just regaining consciousness as the Inspector and two of his men arrived to take him away. I could hear him swearing and cursing, but kept well out of the way. I didn't ever want to see him again.

As they went out of the front door, Inspector Wilkinson stayed behind and came to find me in the kitchen. Two seconds later Amy joined us and I told them exactly what Edward had said. When I'd finished, Inspector Wilkinson apologised for doubting my story, but I was too relieved to be worrying about grudges. I was more concerned to let Tom know what had happened. I looked at my watch.

'Inspector, I know it's after two in the morning, but do you think there's any chance of ringing the prison and letting Mr Radcliffe know about this?'

The Inspector agreed to see that it would be done straight away and said that he would come back in the morning to take statements.

'Amy, I haven't thanked you yet for saving my life.'

'Don't mention it. That's what solicitors are for,' she grinned.

There was no way that Amy and I would be able to go back to sleep now, so we opened a bottle of Scotch and stayed downstairs talking and making plans until dawn broke. It wasn't until Amy mentioned what the newspapers would have to say that I thought about James at the Sportsman, and the promise I had made to him. At seven o'clock I telephoned him and told him that if he wanted the exclusive interview that he'd been after, he had better be down at the cottage by eight-thirty to get it, because by nine o'clock I'd be going off to see Tom and tell him the full story to his face.

And so it transpired that Freddie and I owed our lives, and Tom his freedom, to Amy's bigamist. Realising that she had forgotten her file, she had turned back to retrieve it, and had been surprised to find the front door of the cottage open. Seeing a man's jacket draped across one of the armchairs had made her suspect that something was wrong. She heard voices upstairs so had pretended to leave, and then parked her car around the corner. Although petrified with terror, she returned to the cottage, fetched the bronze from the cupboard where she had seen me put it, and tiptoed up the stairs. The rest, thank God, is history.

Edward recovered consciousness completely in hospital and was charged by a bemused Inspector Wilkinson with the murder of Michael Corcoran and George Musgrave and the attempted murder of myself. Once again, I was to be a witness for the prosecution, only this time the role held no fears and I intended to play my part in seeing that justice would be done.

Less easy was breaking the news to Freddie that his father was still alive. For the time being, I decided to shelter him from the truth by telling him that Edward had not died in a car accident abroad as we had first thought; but his injuries would keep him away for some time. At least I would be able to give him all the love and attention he needed. Edward's reappearance had prompted a speedy withdrawal by his parents of their wardship application.

Tom was given an official pardon and we celebrated his release from prison by going together to the races. By coincidence it was at Worcester and I was riding a novice hurdler for Ralph. There was a fair amount of barging coming round the final bend, ending up with Eamon Brennan going unceremoniously through the rails, and lo and behold, I found myself in front of the stewards. For once, Sir Arthur was charm itself and went out of his way to exonerate me despite the evidence of the head-on film.

Ralph, Tom and James, who was covering the meeting for the Sportsman as part of a feature on Tom's return to training, couldn't believe I'd escaped without a fine, or at the very least a caution.

'Come on,' said Tom, putting his arm affectionately around me, 'what's the secret?'

'Feminine intuition and understanding. Just before the race, I did Sir Arthur a favour. I returned his favourite holiday snap. What he doesn't know is whether I've retained a copy or not.'

'And have you?' they asked in unison.

'Now that would be telling!'