Lynda La Plante - The Legacy

‘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.