A Million Tears (41 page)

It was June 1899 when I called in to see the doctor for one of my regular check ups.

I waited impatiently in the outer office for the receptionist to send me through. I didn’t like the smell of doctor’s places, the ether and soap reminded me of illness and usually my rheumatism gave a few extra twinges. Mind you, it had been worse than usual. The previous winter my hands had been so bad I couldn’t hold a glass properly, at least not on wet days. There was no getting away from it, I was getting old.

He chuckled. He was a short balding man in his early fifties, with a stomach as prosperous looking as his office. I thought for the umpteenth time that one of the boys ought to become a doctor. The room was large, with a high ceiling, and the floor was covered with a deep pile red carpet. One wall was lined with leather bound medical books, his desk had a deep green leather cover which matched the couch in one corner. In the other corner a stove stood, complete with coffee pot, always warm. He was becoming what was known as a society doctor but he was still a good one.

‘I’ll give you a prescription to take to the drug store. Don’t forget to watch how many you take, they’re pretty powerful. They’ve only been on the market a short while, from Switzerland.’

‘I wish more of my patients were like you, James, instead of complaining of all the diseases and ailments under the sun – and a few more besides. I don’t know but I think we’ll end up a nation of pill takers. Soon there’ll be pills to wake you up, pills to put you to sleep – we’ve already got them – pills to cure . . . Oh well, like I said, it’ll be all pills soon. Come on, let me examine you. Just go behind the screen and strip down to your long john’s please.’

Behind the screen his voice followed me. ‘How’s the cough?’

‘Same as always,’ I replied, knowing what was coming next.

‘It’s like I’ve told you before. You cough so hard you break one or two of the alveoli in the lungs and a spot of blood is discharged. Nothing to worry about there. Even your silicosis isn’t as bad as some I’ve seen.’

He pushed, prodded, listened, tickled, looked and finally told me to get dressed.

‘You’ll still be alive when you come for your next examination,’ he said, handing me a prescription for the sleeping pills.

He had started giving them to me a year previously and they were, without a doubt, a godsend when my rheumatics were bad, and kept me from sleeping. I usually called in every month or two to renew the prescription with the receptionist, not bothering the doctor at all.

‘Thanks. See you in six months,’ I said. I paid the receptionist and went out into the warm sunshine. At least, it was warm in the shade, in the sunlight it was hot enough to make a man think of a long, cool beer. I got the pills from the drug store and stood at the cross-roads for a moment debating whether to go for a beer or to the new coffee house for a coffee.

‘You are from Wales, aren’t you? South Wales?’ He was a dapper, little man, dressed in a black coat and tight trousers. He wore a gun at his side from which his right hand didn’t stray too far. His black hair was sleeked down with oil too sweetly smelling for my taste. His moustache drooped down either side of the corners of his mouth and he had a habit of continually stroking it with his left thumb and fore finger.

‘Yes, I was sure you was. My name is Brown and I’m a detective with the New York Smithson Agency. I’d like you to come with me to the Marshal’s office. You’re under arrest for the murder of Sir Clifford Roberts.’

I gasped. I could not believe my ears. It can’t be true my brain told me but my eyes and ears told me different. I felt slightly dizzy for a moment and then the situation became crystal clear and I could think straight once more. ‘I haven’t a clue as to what you’re talking about,’ I replied haughtily. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, sir, I shall bid you good day.’ I turned to go but he grabbed my arm. I was on the point of yelling for help but thought better of it. I suddenly realised I needed to talk to this man, to find out what he knew and if he wanted only me or Evan as well.

‘Please unhand me, it’s most unseemly,’ I said. ‘There’s a coffee house over there, shall we go and discuss this?’ I started towards the place I’d indicated but Brown stood still, his hand on my coat. For some time now I’d been using a steel topped cane to help me around when my rheumatism was especially bad and before Brown could stop me I swung the cane and brought it down sharply across his forearm. With a scream of pain he let me go, his hand holding his right arm.

‘Don’t attempt to draw your gun, Mr Brown. You’ll be too slow and next time it’ll be your head I’ll crack open. Now, shall we go for that coffee?’ Without waiting for a reply I stalked off, leaving him to follow. In the coffee house I selected a table at the back, next to the rear entrance. I was unsure what I was going to do yet, but I wanted a quick exit just in case. I smiled to myself. Quick . . . that was a laugh. I couldn’t move quickly if my life depended on it, which it probably does, I told myself.

It was a long, low place, wide enough for two tables abreast and space to walk between. There were twelve or fifteen tables each side, with white cloths and comfortable seats. The special, tantalising aroma of coffee beans permeated the air, reminding me as always of that first trip from New York with Evan. Brown sat opposite me.

‘Don’t do something like that again old man or I’ll kill you,’ he growled.

‘Really! An unarmed, old man?’ I had stopped wearing the gun Evan had bought for me because of the problem I had with the arthritis in my hands. ‘I don’t think the marshal will be too pleased with that, do you?’

‘Mr Price, a number of very influential people in Wales have had my agency looking for you for years. You’ll be deported back to Wales as an undesirable alien and there no doubt you’ll be arrested. The warrant I have is for your deportation, granted by a New York judge on the understanding that federal officers would not be called in to search for you, only a private agency like ours. What I said about you being under arrest for the murder of Sir Clifford Roberts was to put you off balance so you’d come more easily. It doesn’t matter because you’ll still come easily, or else.’

‘But . . . but Good God, surely that isn’t constitutional? I’m not an undesirable alien as far as the States are concerned. I’ve done nothing wrong, caused no harm, not committed any crime. So what grounds can they possibly have for deporting me?’

‘Mr Price, surely you’re not as naıve as that? These people in Wales have many interests in America. I know some of their names and believe me they can wield as much power as the President himself if they want to. They can have you deported like that,’ he snapped his fingers. ‘Where’s the waiter in this place? I could use a coffee too,’ he rubbed his right arm. ‘You sure gave me a clout with that blasted stick.’

‘I wish it had been your head,’ I said bitterly, seething at the injustice of it. There was no getting away from them. The bastards at home had so much power they could wield it in the land of the free. Some joke that was.

‘I’ll get the coffee,’ I made to get up.

‘No, you don’t. I don’t trust you not to run away.’

I looked at him with disgust. ‘Mr Brown I’m near enough seventy. I have rheumatic problems. I carry a cane not as an affectation but because I need it, look you. So don’t be so stupid.’ I said the last sentence with a bitterness that took him by surprise and he sat back to watch as I went to the counter to order coffee.

I kept my back to him and slipped my hand into my waistcoat pocket. I brought out my sleeping pills and dropped three into his cup while waiting for my change. I prayed they would dissolve quickly as I returned to the table.

‘Here you are, the best coffee in St Louis,’ I said then cursed myself. I sounded jolly, which was far from the truth. I pushed the sugar and cream bowls on the table towards him. To my relief he put in three heaped spoons of sugar.

I added cream and sipped. It tasted more bitter than usual. ‘What’s meant to happen afterwards?’

‘It’s not what’s meant to happen as to what will happen,’ he said, sipping his coffee. ‘Hmmm, good. And what’s going to happen is that I’ll arrange for the marshal to lock you up until I arrange two seats on the train back to New York tomorrow or the day after.’

‘Because for all their influence they couldn’t persuade no judge to say he’s an undesirable alien because he helped an old man escape his country. No sirree, there’s no way they can touch him.’ What a load of ridiculous contradictions, I thought. First he was telling me these people who wanted me had as much power as the President and now he was saying this. His next words startled me. ‘They can’t get him legally, but there’s another way.’

My blood ran cold. Surely he did not mean they were going to have Evan murdered?

‘What are you going to do, then?’ I asked in a harsh tone. I watched him drain his cup.

‘Nothing,’ he chuckled again. ‘Mr Price, we’ve known of your whereabouts for a few months now and I’ve been studying you and the family. It’s mighty clear how high a regard they have for you. If you’re taken back to Wales what do you think Griffiths will do about it?’

I knew, and from the way Brown chuckled again I could see he read the answer on my face.

‘Exactly, Mr Price. He’ll move heaven and earth on your behalf. I don’t know all the details of the case but it seems he was at this Sir Clifford Roberts’ manor house or castle, whatever these people live in over there and he attacked the old man before getting away. Didn’t they chase him with hounds or something? Anyway, you killed the old man outside your house. You was seen doing it by a woman opposite and she reported you hoping for a reward. You then got away on the
SS Cardiff
. Griffiths’ conscience more than anything will take him back to help defend you. Not that there’s much chance of him doing you any good.’ He put his hands to his face and rubbed his eyes. ‘I don’t feel too good,’ he grimaced, closing and opening his eyes slowly.

I knew he was right. It was the sort of thing Evan would do. ‘How much is it worth for you to go back to New York and say you made a mistake about finding us?’

‘Are you trying to . . . to bribe me?’ He was squinting at me, trying to focus on my face.

‘Yes, why not? Presumably you’re only here because somebody is paying you? I’ll pay you more.’

‘Mr . . . Mr Price, Jeez, I feel odd. Mr Price if it ain’t me it’ll be somebody else. I’ve already sent in a report categorically stating you’re here. To . . . to deny it will . . . will seem strange. Mr. Price, what . . . I . . . I.’ He fell forward over the table, stirred feebly and then started snoring. I heaved a sigh of relief. Those pills of the doctor’s were certainly strong.

I slumped back in my seat and wearily rubbed my eyes. My glasses were hurting my nose and I rubbed the tender spot. I knew what it would mean if I did go back. Evan had some influence here in St. Louis through his political friends but not in New York. What could he do there? Very little, I feared. And if there was one thing I did know about American politics it was that there was little love lost between the courts and the parties, whether Democrat or Republican. If Brown had a warrant then there was little chance of getting it quashed. And I was sure, as night follows day, that Evan would come with me.

And I was too old to run. Where could I go? My life, or what I had left of it was here with Meg and Evan and Sion and David. I’d had a good nine years with them. I thought back, lost in the memory of it all. Little Sian and Sion. And Dai. They had started it all. I chuckled when I thought of some of the tea parties we’d had. And the doll’s house I’d made for Sian. Her death had greatly upset me. I continued lost in my memories for a while, forgetting where I was and who I was with. I’d had so little for so long before the kids came into my life – and then I’d had an awakening. That was all I could call it. An awakening. My mind went from one incident to the next. The kite flying which Sion was still interested in, now more so in fact than ever. Indeed, I no longer really understood what he was talking about half the time with these new fangled inventions, like that man flying. I shook my head. That was an incredible thought. Perhaps I had misunderstood. Oh well, it no longer mattered. I got to my feet. I had to see them all once more. Just once. Though David was away at the university of course.