Lynda La Plante - The Legacy

‘You won’t recognize ‘im, Freda, ‘e looks like a toff an’ ‘e’s actin’ like one, out every night gallivantin’ around the town, showin’ ‘imself off to everybody. He should be trainin’, night an’ day. You don’t see this Micky out in the clubs, no way, he’ll be trainin’ mornin’, noon an’ night.’

Freda made all the right noises and bided her time. She didn’t like to mention Evelyne now.

‘I’m worried, Freda, see, I know ‘is Lordship, next minute the lad’ll believe in ‘is own publicity, believe that Sir’s ‘is closest friend, but if ‘e loses he won’t see ‘im fer dust, an’ ‘e’ll lose, Freda, mark my words ‘e’ll lose, ‘e can’t go on like this. I been round three times an’ ‘e’s still in bed at twelve o’clock, him what was out at the crack of dawn at The Grange.’

Patting his hand and kissing his cheek, Freda assured him that she would have a word with Freedom when she saw him.

‘You’ll need an appointment, Freda, see if ‘e can’t fit you in between ‘is barber an’ ‘is tailor.’

Often at night Freedom would walk along Jermyn Street and cross into St James’s Park. Climbing over the railings he would run silently round and round, or sit for hours staring at the sleeping pelicans. Then when he had exhausted himself he would return to Jermyn Street. The running eased his restlessness, his feeling of being cooped up, of being on display, a fairground amusement. The women who pawed him only made him long for his Evie, and the pain inside him grew worse and worse instead of easing, but he said nothing, told no one.

Dewhurst woke Freedom to say that Mr Meadows and his wife had called, and would return later that afternoon for tea. Then he ran Freedom’s bath and began to lay out his clothes to wear for luncheon.

Mrs Harris could tell something was up, Evie was as bright as a button. She had also washed her hair and let out her best coat. She kept on asking how she looked, did she look ugly?

‘Lord love us, gel, there’s nothing more beautiful than a woman with a baby in her, you got a glow … are you off visitin’?’

Evelyne gave a tiny smile.

‘Well, you tell ‘im from me, ducks, he’s got a special woman, you go to him, bring ‘im back for supper an’ all, go on wiv you, you’ve waited long enough as it is …’

Evelyne caught the tram into London’s West End. Winter was coming on fast, and she hugged her coat around her. She got off the tram outside the big store in Piccadilly, Swan and Edgar. The windows were all lit up, and one of them was filled with baby clothes and cradles. She peered into the brighdy lit window. Such beautiful things, the toys, the clothes. She couldn’t move away, she found herself smiling with pleasure, with excitement at the thought of seeing Freedom again. She could visualize him so clearly, in his old cap and baggy trousers, running across the fields, and she couldn’t understand why she was crying, it was so foolish of her, and in a public place, too.

She bathed her face and checked her appearance in the ladies’ powder room inside the store, then nervously enquired the way to Jermyn Street. She was surprised to find it in the heart of the West End, having expected it to be a tram journey away. She was directed across Piccadilly, past a very fashionable shop, and down a small alley alongside a church. So this was where Freedom was staying. Evelyne stood in Jermyn Street taking in the rows of small shops selling soap, the tailors, the barbers.

Freedom stepped down from the motorcar and held out his hand to help two women from the back of the car. Evelyne could hardly believe her eyes, was it Freedom? She inched further forward, trying to see round the open door of the car. He was wearing a long, charcoal-grey overcoat, with a wide fur collar slightly turned up around his neck, and a white silk scarf. He laughed, throwing his head back, as one of the women pulled at the scarf and stood on tiptoe to whisper in his ear.

Dodging through the shoppers, Evelyne huddled in a doorway and watched as he held out first one arm, then the other, for the women to take. They fought for his attention. Being so tall he had to bend down to listen to what one of them had to say, and she took the opportunity to kiss his cheek. Evelyne gasped and stepped forward for a better view, then dodged quickly back as the three moved towards the building. A uniformed doorman stepped out and doffed his cap to them, holding the door open wide. As they went inside and the glittering doors closed behind them, Evelyne ran the few yards to the entrance, and peered through the doors in time to see them standing by a lift.

Freedom pressed the lift button. His head was aching from drinking too much champagne, but Dewhurst would have coffee ready. He was supposed to be training, but he would make up for it in the morning. As the lift gates opened he had a strange tingling sensation like an icy hand down his spine, and he whipped round, his scarf flying, ran to the doors and pulled them open. ‘Evie? Evie …?’

He stared along the crowded, fashionable street, then shook his head. He must be drunk. The door swung to and fro, and he returned to the women.

‘Oh, Freedom, we simply must take you to tea at the Ritz, say you will? Pretty please?’

He gave her a nasty, cold stare, gritted his teeth.

‘Pretty please, ger in, let me show you my Ritz!’

The two of them giggled at his awful mood, and they cuddled close to him, clinging to his arms. They felt like a pair of monkeys to him, they loved to scratch him with their long, red-painted fingernails. Still, they helped him to forget, forget Evie.

Ted Harris heard Evelyne come in, and opened the kitchen door.

‘Evie, that you, ducks? A cabbie came round wiv a parcel for you, here, see, cab all by itself, no one inside.’

Evelyne took the parcel but wouldn’t meet his eyes.

‘You all right, ducks? Feelin’ poorly, are you?’

‘I’m fine, I’ll just rest, I’ll see to the children’s tea in a minute.’

Ted watched her hurry along the passage to her room. She was so pale, it worried him.

In the room Evelyne opened Miss Freda’s gifts. The tiny baby clothes, so perfectly made, were perhaps not in the colours she would have chosen, but they were beautiful. There was a little note in the parcel, but the writing was so bad that it took Evelyne ages to decipher what Freda had written.

‘In haste, darling, I will come and see you. God bless you and keep you well. Yours, Freda.’

Freda’s mouth seemed to be out of control, it kept dropping open as she sat and watched Freedom lounging on the sofa opposite her. He wouldn’t meet her eyes, she had noticed that right at the start, as soon as they had arrived. He was being flippant and amusing, and from his shoes to his shining hair he was so well-groomed she would never have known him.

‘Lads reckon you’ll be having to start work first thing Monday, Freedom?’

Freda knew what Ed was going on about, but Freedom seemed to pay him little attention. Suddenly he sprang to his feet and asked Ed if he would go down to the teashop and order something for them.

An extremely disgruntled Ed departed, leaving Freedom and Freda alone together. They sat in silence for a minute, Freedom staring down at his shiny boots and Freda looking at the curtains, reckoning the material would cost at least four or five shillings a yard. He. wanted to talk to her, desperately needed to talk to someone, but he just didn’t know how to begin.

Eventually he rose to his feet and picked up his walking stick, tossed it in the air and then showed Freda the silver handle. ‘See, it’s a boxing glove, Miss Freda.’

She looked, not that she was particularly interested. It was Freedom, he had changed, and she couldn’t speak to him any more.