The Legacy (41 page)

‘Well, let’s be on our way, love, don’t want to miss the train.’

Sir Charles was already installed in his private first-class compartment with Freedom. Ed and Miss Freda, helped by Dewhurst, settled themselves into the third-class compartment at the far end of the train. Picnic hampers, luggage, tickets, all caused such comings and goings that no one rnissed Evelyne. Freda and Ed presumed that she was with Sir Charles and Freedom, and if Sir Charles gave it a thought at all, he believed she was in the third-class compartment.

Evelyne had caught the local steam train to the valley earlier that morning. She could not face goodbyes. She wanted the mountain, the clean air, it was as if she couldn’t breathe properly, her whole body felt constricted, tight. Hugh floated in and out of her thoughts as if she was going through her life, year by year. She could not really remember who had said, ‘Reach out and love him, hold him, release the pain’, all she knew was that she had to go on up to the mountain one last time.

As the train wound its slow way through the valley she began to relax, as if Hugh would be waiting on the platform for her. Her head was light and she felt dizzy. She had to make herself breathe deeply, knowing that if she didn’t, she would come apart. ‘Hold on,’ she whispered to herself, ‘you are almost home.’

The movement of the train rocked Freedom gently from side to side. He was sitting opposite Sir Charles, who had begun the journey in good spirits, pointing out views to Freedom but, receiving little or no response, he had fallen silent.

Freedom stared out of the window and chewed his lip. He wondered if he should ask about Evelyne. Sir Charles had been openly irritated when he had ventured to ask after her as they boarded the train. He had told Freedom she would be with the others.

‘She’s on the train then, sir?’

Sir Charles crossed his immaculately tailored legs. ‘Let us get something quite clear, shall we? Miss Jones was your only witness, your only alibi. You swore in open court that there was nothing between the two of you but the desire to see justice done. If you lied, you make a mockery of everyone concerned in your release, even the verdict. Without her testimony you would, most assuredly, have been hanged. If it was ever to be discovered that you both lied, then I would feel it my duty to hand you over to the police. I don’t want you seeing the woman.’ He stared hard at Freedom, his eyes glinting, and was met with a black, unfathomable, hooded look.

Freedom leaned forward, but Sir Charles didn’t flinch. ‘All I asked was if she was on the train, I have not had time even to say thank you. I was innocent, I never cut no man’s throat… sir.’

‘Do not worry yourself over her, I shall find her work, I think we both owe her that much.’

Freedom nodded and again stared out of the window. The matter closed, Sir Charles opened his writing-case. Freedom waited, leaning back, and through half-closed eyes he studied Sir Charles, as if willing him to sleep. The pen scratched on the paper, dipped in the inkwell … then the case was set aside and Sir Charles’ eyes slowly drooped, his head lolled on his chest.

The moment he was asleep Freedom rose like a cat, stealthily slid the door back, and went silently out into the corridor. He made his way down the train, from compartment to compartment, until he reached the third-class section, searching for Evelyne.

Ed Meadows looked up as the door slid open and Freedom bent his head to enter. ‘Hello, son, how’s the toffs’ section, then? Sit down, sit down, soon be time to take down the picnic hamper.’

Freedom looked at the sleeping Dewhurst, then Miss Freda. He remained standing.

‘Sit down, lad, you’ll get a crick in the neck.’

‘I was wanting to pay my respects to Miss Evelyne, sir.’

‘None of your “sirs”, name’s Ed … Is she not wiv you?’

Miss Freda looked concerned. ‘We thought she was with you … Ed, you said she was on the train, is she not with Sir Charles?’

Ed went red, rubbed his balding head. ‘I went to her rooms, like, an’ she’d gone. I thought she was wiv you, ain’t she wiv you? Hey, where you goin’? Just a minute …’

Freedom strode to the rear end of the compartments, opened the door.

‘She won’t be back there, lad, that’s the luggage … Freedom?’

Ed stood up, then fell backwards as the train lurched. Miss Freda caught his arm. ‘Oh, Ed, Ed, I feel terrible, I should have gone to her.’

Ed released her hand, about to follow Freedom, then turned. ‘You don’t fink ‘e’ll get off, do you? He wouldn’t, would ‘el’

The train gathered speed, and Ed hung on to the strap above his head. ‘He couldn’t, could he? Freda, what do you fink?’

Miss Freda felt wretched, but she shook her head. The train thundered into a tunnel, and Ed felt his way along the corridor in the darkness, banging against the sides. He kept telling himself the lad was just looking for Evelyne, but his heart was pounding. God, he wouldn’t run away, would he?

As the train sped out of the long tunnel into the light of day, Ed sighed with relief. He could see Freedom, way up ahead of him. He called out, but the noise of the train drowned his words. He ran on, bumping into the luggage piled high on both sides of the compartment. Freedom shouted back to him, ‘She’s not on the train!’

He was pulling at the stiff white collar and tie, courtesy of Sir Charles. In a panic, Ed reeled from side to side of the train, grabbing at the straps. ‘Now, don’t go doing anything silly, son, we can contact her when the train stops.’

Freedom slid open the big loading door in the side of the compartment, and Ed screamed at the top of his voice.

‘Don’t! Don’t, for God’s sake!’

Desperately, Ed ran to catch Freedom as he stood poised at the open door, but he was still just out of reach when the train lurched and Ed had to hang on again. He could see the ground flashing past, and then Freedom jumped. Ed clung on for dear life to the side of the door, the wind whipping his cheeks, his jacket billowing out. He saw Freedom land, roll away from the wheels of the train, and in seconds he was on his feet running like a wild stallion. Trailing from the door where it had caught was Freedom’s tie.

‘Dear God, Freda, ‘e’s jumped the train, what the hell are we goin’ ter do?’ But there was nothing they could do, and Ed slumped down into his seat. He was beside himself. ‘I’ll get a bollockin’ for this, mark my words, ‘is Lordship’ll blame this on me. Gawd almighty, the bloody fool, what he go an’ do a fing like that for? What are we goin’ ter do? He’s just thrown away the chance of a lifetime … Gawd almighty, that’s me out of a job, us out of a place ter stay … Bloody hell, what a mess.’

‘He will have gone to Evelyne, she’ll make him see sense, you will see, Ed, he signed the contract, didn’t he?’

‘He’s a gyppo, Freda, nobody ever knows what those buggers’re thinking. We should ‘ave tied ‘im up, that contract don’t mean nuffink to them … it don’t mean nuffink … Oh, Freda, we just lost a champion, me ‘eart’s breakin’ … he’s gone, he’s gone.’

Dewhurst slipped his bookmark into the pages of Crime and Punishment. ‘I think I’d better go and tell Sir Charles, he may want me to pull the communication cord.’

Near tears, Ed watched Dewhurst bounce his way down the corridor. He gripped Miss Freda’s hand. ‘You watch Sir Charles get the law on ‘im, they’ll ‘ave ‘im back in a cell, the bloody fool.’

From the opposite side of Aldergrove Road, Evelyne could see her house, the lines of washing billowing in the breeze. Two children sat playing on the doorstep. She turned, head bowed, to walk up the cobbled street towards the mountain. She had to pause, leaning against a wall to rest and give herself strength to continue. Looming high above her, high above the village, the mountain rose as if fighting through the thick mist of black coal dust.

Her feet echoing on the cobbles caused a few curtains to nutter, and someone whispered, ‘Evelyne Jones is back’. She hurried on, passing Doris Evans’ house. Lizzie-Ann was just opening her bedroom curtains, and almost called out, but she clamped her hand across her mouth. ‘Oh God, please don’t say she wants her house …’

But the hunched figure kept on walking, looking neither to right nor left.

‘She’s going up to the grave,’ Mrs Pugh murmured as she peered from behind her back-yard wall. All around were the sounds of the village waking, preparing for the morning shift, buckets clanking, clogs clattering. The mine spewed forth its blackened men, doors opened and slammed closed as the miners set off for their day’s work. Like a shadow, Evelyne quickened her pace towards the grassy slopes, as if the clean air drew her.

‘Hurry, Evie, it’s bath time, come on, gel, get the water on.’

The church organist began his morning practice, squeezing out ‘Onward Christian Soldiers’ from the old organ. Threading her way through the soot-stained tombs, she began to run. The grass, fresh with dew, glistened, the water drops holding small speckles of coal dust like black tears. Hugh Jones, Mary Jones, the stillborn baby, little Davey, all lay together in the shadow of the mountain. Will, Mike and Dicken, all gone. The grave, so tiny, so cold and grey. There was nothing for her to embrace, nothing tangible for her to hold and feel. Drained of all emotion, she stood staring at the names of her beloved family. Nothing to embrace. High on the mountain peak the sun broke, piercing the grey like a shaft of gold. Evelyne looked up and, hardly aware of what she was doing, began to run, higher, higher. She scrambled over bracken, stumbling, falling, but pushing herself on, upwards, higher, to the clean air, to the sun.

Freedom knew she would make for home. He had no thought for himself. He hitched a ride, then, to the consternation of the driver, jumped from the moving car. He ran the five miles down to the village, along the small, winding footpath, keeping up the steady, strong pace until his lungs were bursting. He saw the village below, pushed himself on. At the far end of the valley the mountain rose.

The streets were thronging with miners. Freedom was no fool; he knew what would happen if any of them caught him. He kept to the back lanes, his jacket collar turned up, his breath catching in his throat. He reached the corner of Aldergrove Road and saw a woman with three children slam the front door. Had he got confused? Was it the wrong street? He felt a tug at his sleeve and spun around.

Lizzie-Ann hugged her worn cardigan to her and stared up into his face. Her voice was strained, hoarse, ‘She’s gone up the mountain, gone crazy like her Ma.’ Backing away, she took a sly look over her shoulder, afraid to be seen talking to the gyppo. She was frightened of him.

‘There’s nothing here for her, nobody wants her back.’ She couldn’t meet his eyes.

Freedom gave her a small nod of thanks, but she turned on her heel and scuttled away before he could say a word.

Gladys Turtle was out of breath when she caught Lizzie-Ann at the water taps. ‘They say she’s back, Evie Jones, is that right?’ she gasped. ‘Have you seen her? And the gyppo? Well?’

‘By Christ, yer a moaning Minnie, Gladys Turtle, if I hadn’t two kids an’ another on the way I’d be off, now bugger off” and mind yer own business.’ Lizzie-Ann watched as the water spurting from the tap overflowed the bucket, ran over her worn, down-at-heel shoes, and trickled away down the cobbles. She whispered a prayer. ‘Don’t come back, Evie, please, oh, please …’

Although near exhaustion, Evelyne was still climbing, but now she gasped clean air into her lungs, heaving for each breath. Not far, not far now - she was almost there.

Her hair had worked loose, tumbling around her shoulders. She unbuttoned her coat. Soon she would be on the very peak, high above the valley.

Far below, Freedom began to climb. He couldn’t see her, but he had found her suitcase by the grave. Further on he found her scarf caught in a bramble bush and held it, standing poised and still, listening, shading his eyes to look up the mountain against the sun. He threw his jacket aside and moved on, his heart thudding in his chest. Alert as an animal he could sense her, knew she was not far. He climbed higher, and suddenly fear gripped him tight. He looked down - it was her coat, cast aside. For one terrible moment he thought it had been her, his manushi. He called for her, shouted. Her name echoed around emptily, no Evie answered back.

‘Evelyne … Evelyne … Evelyne!’

Rounding a shelf covered in man-sized boulders, he saw her, way above him, standing like a statue, arms up, hair blowing in the clean wind. She was turning, slowly, dangerously, her head back and eyes closed. At any moment she could fall, lose her balance. She was dancing with death.

His voice was low and soft, a whisper. ‘Is it a partner you’re wanting, Evie?’ He was terrified she would open her eyes and fall, but she smiled, head high, facing the sun. He inched towards her without a sound, closer, until he could reach out and catch her … he grabbed her by her long hair and pulled her to him. She turned on him like a wildcat, eyes blazing, and struck out at him, but he held her, took the blows … dragged her to safety, while she scratched and fought him every inch. When he had got her to a safe distance, he gripped her by the shoulders, trapping her arms at her sides … ‘Look, look, see how close you were, woman, you could have been killed.’

She struggled, kicked out at him. ‘Maybe that’s what I want, get off me, you bugger, let me alone, this is my business … It’s my life, God damn you!’

He didn’t mean to hit her so hard, her head snapped back and her mouth started to bleed. The shock made her still, calmed her.

‘You’re my life too, you’ll give yourself to no mountain.’

‘I’ll not give myself to you either, let me go!’ But she didn’t struggle any more, and he eased his hold until he simply held her in his arms. The wonder of the valley spread below them, as if only for them. He picked her up, gently, and carried her to a rock, sat her down.

‘What was his name? Your Da’s name?’

She turned her head away from him, touched her bleeding lip … after a moment she whispered his name, ‘Hugh, Hugh …’

‘Well, girl, call out to him, call as loud as you can, release it, release him …’

She shook her head, and Freedom cupped his hands to his mouth and called her Da … called for Hugh.