Lynda La Plante - The Legacy

‘Primmy? Primmy?’

The panic started, the terrible feeling of being on fire, the boom, boom of guns was deafening. The nightmare began again and he put his hands over his ears, began to shout, ‘No … no … No, no, no!’

Evelyne tried hard to explain to Freddy about the house, but he was so concerned with getting rid of her that he didn’t listen. He instructed a housemaid to take Evelyne out through the kitchens and the servants’ entrance. In a way he felt sorry for the big, awkward girl, but then he heard the awful screams echoing down from David’s room. He knew he would have to go to him, and he blamed Evelyne.

‘Don’t come back, this is your doing, listen to him … I think you got what you came for, didn’t you? Go on, get out.’

Lady Primrose rushed into the drawing room. Heather and Lady Sybil could hear David’s screams. Heather shut the door and put her arms around Primrose.

‘It’s all right, dearest, Freddy will see to him, really it’s all right.’

Lady Sybil, eating tea and crumpets, muttered. ‘Should be in a home, not right in the head.’

Heather gave her mother a stern look and tossed her the evening paper to read, then sat Primrose down and poured tea. The shouts and screams from David’s room slowly subsided.

Freddy returned to the drawing room, giving Primrose an intimate smile. He said David was sleeping, the laudanum had taken effect.

‘That girl, Freddy, apparently Mrs Darwin suggested she visit David. I think, as it obviously upsets him so, that we really should watch out for him, don’t you think?’

Freddy blushed. Just meeting her eyes made him want her. He nodded.

‘Perhaps we shouldn’t try any more, I’m sorry.’

Primrose gave him a sad, helpless look. Freddy made no mention of David’s wallet or the night spent at the gypsy fair. He nearly dropped his teacup when Lady Sybil read aloud from the evening newspaper.

‘“Riot at boxing match” … have you read this, Freddy? Says here a gypsy fighter nearly killed his opponent, a miner. Look, read for yourself. Says the man was almost murdered. Caused a riot, tent burnt down, dreadful to-do. Riff-raff shouldn’t be allowed in the country, none of them fought in the war. If Reggie were alive he would take his twelve-bore and shoot them down.’

Freddy took the paper and agreed with Lady Sybil that they were riff-raff, he couldn’t understand why anyone would want to watch them fight, he most certainly wouldn’t. Heather smiled at him and patted his knee. He left the room, and no one noticed that he took the paper with him.

Evelyne never went back to Mrs Pugh’s, not because she didn’t want to pay but because she couldn’t face her. The few belongings she had left there she could do without. All she wanted was to go home and forget everything that had happened. All the way home, above the noise of the steam engine chug-chug-chugging, she could hear the strains of those high-pitched voices, those posh, upper-crust voices, their secret looks and nudges, their self-satisfaction, their money. She opened her bag and counted out the notes she had taken from David’s wallet, then sat back against the seat and closed her eyes. Even after everything he had done, if he wanted her she would go to him she knew it, and she was angry with herself. ‘You are a bloody fool, Evelyne Jones, forget him, take the money and forget him, he’s not worth it. They treated you like dirt, you only took what was rightly yours. He owed you that money, it was yours to take.’

Her heartache slowly turned to anger. She twisted her hands in her lap, folded and refolded the money. All her love slowly turned to bitterness, turned sour, and her mouth took on a thin, hard line, her face tight. By the time the train stopped at her station she was composed, her anger and pain under control. At least, she said to herself, she hadn’t lost any money on this trip, in fact she’d made it.

Evelyne let herself into the house and changed her clothes, bundling up the ones she had been wearing and burning them. ‘Well, how did it go, lovey?’

‘It didn’t work out, Da … Now, I’d best hurry and get to the school.’

Hugh said nothing, saddened for a moment that she didn’t confide in him, but he had become so busy of late that he soon forgot all about it.

Evelyne was stunned to be told at the school that a new teacher with proper qualifications would be coming for the next term. The school governors had visited during her absence and, although they appreciated the work she had done in the past, they had to have someone with proper qualifications. There was no work to be had at the brick factory, or at the coal face. Come Easter she would be unemployed, but that was Easter, and until then she would continue at the school. Her heart was no longer in it, though, and the children noticed and called her ‘Miss Stick’.

Hugh was going from strength to strength within the union. Twice he travelled to other mines to give talks to the men, and returned jubilant that they were solidly on his side, and if the mine owners didn’t bow to their demands for better wages and safety regulations, they would strike. The small house was full every evening with groups of men who would bring their problems to Hugh. Evelyne had once been pleased to be part of this, but now she withdrew upstairs to her mother’s old room, where she would read until her eyes hurt.

Hugh was in good spirits. Dai Thomas had brought the local newspaper and on page three there was Hugh, wearing his cloth cap, standing rigidly straight and glaring into the camera.

As he went up the stairs, he saw the gas lamp still glowing in Evelyne’s room. He tapped, and popped his head round the door. Evelyne was lying on top of her bed, wearing just a white shift, her waist-length hair brushed and gleaming. ‘My God,’ thought Hugh, ‘if any of those buggers was to see her now they wouldn’t be calling her “Miss Stick”.’ She looked like a mermaid. ‘I got a few copies, see … it’s me in the main photo, not a bad likeness, gel, wouldn’t you say? Told me not to smile, see, so I’d look fierce, look like I know what I’m talking about.’

‘It’s good, Da, and you look no more than thirty, real fit and strong.’

Hugh laughed and twisted his cap round on his head, pulling a funny face. She handed the paper back to him, but he whipped out another two copies from his pocket. ‘Keep it, Dai’s gonna bring us a frame.’

He wanted to talk, but she put the paper down and picked up the book she was reading. He went out, then came back again.

‘Now don’t start, just let me say something to you, I love you more than my own life, an’ I can’t stand to see you wastin’ yourself, sitting up here every night, goin’ up to the school every day, gettin’ more an’ more like an old maid, like Doris.’

Evelyne shrugged, tossed her hair and said, tight-lipped, that he had no need to worry, she wouldn’t be going up to the school much longer, they were replacing her with a proper teacher. As soon as he had left Evelyne felt dreadful. She loved him so much. Why hadn’t she talked with him like they used to, why had she shut him out lately? She picked up the paper and looked at the photograph, his stern face glaring into the camera. She kissed the photo and took some scissors out of a drawer.

As she snipped around the photo she couldn’t help but notice the lead article on the next page, ‘Police investigate two revenge murders’.

She carried the paper over to the lamp and sat down. The article stated that the two boys had been found with their throats slit open, their hands tied behind their backs. At first, they believed the motive had been robbery, but then a third boy had given himself up to the local constabulary. He admitted that he and his friends had made advances to a gypsy girl and one of the gypsy men, Freedom Stubbs, had warned them that they would take their revenge. The article requested anyone knowing of Freedom Stubbs’ whereabouts to come forward.