Lynda La Plante - The Legacy

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.’