Lynda La Plante - The Legacy

Sir Charles frowned. ‘You think the knockout was fixed, what?’

Ed spread his chubby hands and sighed. ‘Guv, that gyppo could’ve ‘ad ‘im in round one, what a fighter, it’s tragic — it’s bloody tragic. Far as I could make out old Taffy was bleedin’ surprised to floor the gyppo ‘imself. Now, ‘is manager was givin’ me the old story, yer know, about Taffy’s bein’ famous for ‘is left uppercut, but I said, I said, do me a favour, mate, the punch was a wide, open-‘anded right, couldn’t ‘ave floored a flyweight wiv it, never mind a big’un like Stubbs.’

Sir Charles mused, fiddling with his cutlery. ‘So … we forget about Taffy, what? He may be useful as a sparring partner, but I doubt anything else.’

‘You ask me, guv, ‘e’s ready fer the knacker’s yard. I got a theory, see the ‘eadlines? Now, yer know the police was after ‘im — what if he got tipped off and done a runner, like? Hadda go down ‘cause ‘e knew the law was on to ‘im? That’s the way I sees it.’

‘Either way, old chap, we come out the losers. Pity, really felt that fellow Stubbs was champion material, damned shame, but then these gyppo fellows are not to be trusted … Ah, jolly good, breakfast!’

Freda placed the Welsh rarebits in front of them. Ed stared in horror. ‘Gor blimey, what in hell’s name is this?’

Freda put down the coffee-pot and a jug of hot milk.

‘Will that be all, sir?’

Sir Charles nodded, picking up his knife and fork. ‘Try it, Ed, it’s quite tasty.’

Ed poked at his plate, then sighed. ‘Fair breaks me ‘eart. What a fighter, they’ll ‘ang ‘im … We goin’ back ter London then, guv?’

Sir Charles carefully cut through his toast. Yes, they would return first thing in the morning, he had some relatives he might call on. Ed looked at the orchestra and began to hum along, ‘Tea for two …’ Then he took an enormous mouthful of rarebit, chewed and pulled a face.

‘Sooner the better, I’ve ‘ad enough of Wales, Welsh rabbits an’ all … can’t taste any meat in this, more like cheese ter me.’

***

During her lunch break Freda went to Evelyne’s suite. She took a great interest in the furnishings, then flopped down on one of the single beds, exhausted. To Evelyne she seemed happy-go-lucky as she related, with little shrugs, the story of her business failing and the fact that she was working to save for another shop. Secretly, Freda wondered where Evelyne was getting the money to stay at the Grand. Perhaps she had some cash to spare, and they could go into partnership together.

‘So why are you here, Miss Evelyne? Ah, I know, you are getting married, is that it?’

Evelyne laughed. ‘Far from it.’ She explained at length why she had come back to Cardiff, while Freda lay with her eyes closed, listening. She didn’t mention Jesse and Rawnie by name, just the basic facts of Willie’s murder.

‘I’m a witness you see, Freda, that’s why I’m here, I know he didn’t kill that boy. Freedom is innocent, and I want to help him.’

Rolling over on the bed, Freda propped her frizzy head on her hands and scrutinized Evelyne. ‘But it is not just one killing, is it darling? Perhaps he did not kill this Willie boy in your village, but what of the three murdered here in Cardiff? Goodness, I’ve read terrible things, such scandal, everyone has been frighted, it’s like Jack the Ripper.’

Freedom Stubbs was no Jack the Ripper, Evelyne told her.

Recovering some of her energy, Freda sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. They didn’t reach the floor.

‘We shall go to see him, that is what we must do. But first, and I hope you don’t mind me saying this, your dress is very drab, you must look smart, not like a schoolteacher, really smart … do you have the money for some clothes?’

Evelyne answered evasively, not that sort of money, and studied her reflection in the mirror. Freda looked her up and down, she was so thin and had grown even taller. For a small price, she suggested, she could alter Evelyne’s clothes, perhaps they could buy some second-hand things.

‘You will feel more confident, and I can do it very cheaply, what do you say?’

Smiling sweetly as Evelyne agreed, Freda took out a tape measure, saying that she never went anywhere without it. She departed with two pounds ten shillings of Evelyne’s money, assuring her she could do wonders with it.

When she had left, Evelyne counted her remaining money. She had been ‘paid’ with two five-pound notes last time she had been in Cardiff, and now she was putting them to good use. As Freda had taken most of her few clothes to alter she couldn’t go out, so she lingered in yet another soapy bath, her thoughts on David. She wondered if he knew what was so obviously going on between his wife and his best friend Freddy.

The following morning Evelyne was astonished at how fast Freda had worked. Her hemlines were up, and the new buttons on her old coat made it look quite nice.

‘I will have a dress ready soon, your skirt and blouse will do for now, and perhaps if you can give me a few more shillings you can have a nice new hat.’

The desk sergeant remembered Evelyne, but refused her permission to see Freedom. Miss Freda launched into a furious speech about citizens’ rights, and said that if he didn’t allow Miss Jones to visit the prisoner, she would write to all the newspapers. After that they were kept waiting for half an hour, but permission was granted. They were sent to another building, where again they were kept waiting, until a tall prison warder with a set of big keys on a waistchain approached them. ‘Miss Evelyne Jones, please?’

He led her to a bare room where Freedom was sitting at a wooden table, handcuffed, an officer standing beside the door. Another officer stood outside, where he could see into the room through a small window set in the door for that purpose. Freedom had no idea why he had been brought out of his cell and sat, head bowed, staring at his hands. His hair was unruly, uncombed, and his face already dark with stubble.

As the officer left he locked the door behind him, after informing Evelyne coldly that she had ten minutes. Freedom was stunned and made to rise, but was immediately pushed back into his chair by the officer. Evelyne sat in an identical chair opposite Freedom. Now that she was here she didn’t know what to say to him and could see that he was dumbstruck by her appearance. She could smell him, his heavy body odour, for the man had not been allowed to bathe since his arrest.

His shoulder-length hair was greasy and hung limp, and when he lifted his hands to move it back from his face she could see his handcuffs.

The presence of the police officer loomed over them both, and for a good two minutes neither said a word. Evelyne placed her hands, with the neat, square, shining nails, on to the table. ‘I have come to say you were with me the night Willie was in the picture house. They say in the papers that you’ll be standing trial for all the killings and that you’ll hang.’

Freedom looked into her eyes, and then turned to look at the prison officer. His voice was so quiet, she had to lean forward to hear. ‘So be it, and I thank thee for coming, God bless you.’

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.