Always: You'll Never Walk Alone (5 page)

Jim was still trying to dislodge the cat, hopping on one leg, shouting furiously and spraying everything within a three-foot radius. The cat was holding on for dear life and hissing angrily. Mrs. Chisholm, still speechless, was swatting at the air with one hand and holding her wet dress up and away from her shoes with the other, while doing a complicated little dance trying to avoid a second spraying. Mr. Chisholm, who arrived on the scene at this point, was trying to get a hold of his wife to calm her down but every time he got close he was in danger of getting swatted by her flying hand, or being stomped on by her dancing feet, and had to keep jumping back.

Mike, having heard all the commotion, came running out to see what was going on and seeing three grown adults jumping up and down, one angry cat, and a fountain of urine melting whatever snow was left, doubled over laughing. Until now, I’d been too shocked to react and was just standing there with my mouth hanging open. Seeing Mike’s reaction, I tried not to laugh, but I felt my shoulders shaking, and finally broke into gales of laughter myself, until the tears were streaming down my face.

Jim finally managed to shake the cat free of his leg and emptied the last of the three pints from his bladder. Without a look at anyone, he climbed up to his driver’s seat and barked out for everyone to get aboard. Mr. Chisholm managed to calm his wife down enough to get her into the carriage, followed by Mr. Mortimer. I stood there not sure whether to get into the carriage or up front with Jim, until he looked down at me and said, “Are you getting up here or not?”

I climbed up next to him as he glared at me and said, “Next time…”

Try as I could, I couldn’t stop the smile from twitching at the corner of my mouth. He turned back to the horses, cracked his whip, shook his head, and said, “Let’s go.”

We drove along in silence I occasionally glanced up at Jim but every time I went to say something, I had to fight down a grin until finally he said, “Just get it over with. Have your fun.”

“What?” I said with as much innocence as I could muster, but the grin betrayed me and I broke out laughing again. This time he joined me and we spent the next few miles going over the whole episode and laughing like fools.

Then, looking off to the left, a magnificent palace shimmered in the distance.

“What is that?” I asked pointing.

“Oh that’s Hampton Court Palace.”

“Hampton Court?” I’d heard of it but I had no idea. It was enormous. A red brick building that seemed to go on forever. The sun bouncing off the snow created a million diamonds flashing against the windows of the palace making it look like a fairy wonderland.

“It was one of the homes of Henry VIII. All his wives lived there at one time or another. Mind you I’m sure they could have all lived there at the same time and never run into each other!” I couldn’t believe that one person; even a king could own such a place. And I realized how little I really knew of the world beyond my own small part.

Passing the palace, we drove on through the countryside. Even at this time of year with the leafless trees, there was still a hundred different shades of green stretching as far as the eye could see. The fields like a checkerboard with flocks of sheep covering the hills. This is where I wanted to live. I could bring Sarah here… The thought of Sarah brought back the fear to my stomach.

“What’s the matter?” It was Jim looking at me, a concerned look on his face.

“What d’you mean?”

“You were frowning. Looked like you had all the worries of the world on your shoulders.”

I assured him it was nothing and asked where our next stop would be. He said we’d go as far as Guildford, where we’d stop for the night. He said he’d been driving coaches for forty-five years and had travelled across all of England. His weather beaten face was testament to his years on the roads and as we continued along the road he told me stories of his travels and adventures, of being held up by highwaymen and of being stuck in mud and staying out all night waiting for someone to come and help him out. He’d been married once but his wife never got used to him being away so much, and he hadn’t seen her in forty years or more. As he continued with his stories the sun sank down behind the hills and as its last rays disappeared the temperature quickly dropped. Jim reached down behind me and pulled a heavy blanket out, telling me to wrap it around myself. He pulled his heavy coat over his shoulders. The horses were getting tired, but as we reached the outskirts of Guildford they picked up their pace, knowing they would soon be home for the night.

“’Nother half-hour and we’ll be there, and not a moment too soon. By the look of that sky we could be in for more snow tonight.” Jim was scanning the sky like an old man of the sea. As if reading my thoughts he started talking, and at first I wasn’t sure whether he was talking to me or just to himself. “I thought about going to sea when I was a boy of about your age. I would like to have seen foreign lands, but it’s a hard life and I’d heard tales of floggings and scurvy and such. So I decided to see England instead. It hasn’t always been an easy life, and there’ve been times with the snow in my face and the wind howling around my head that I’d have given anything to be somewhere else, but I can’t complain and lookin’ back, it’s been a good life.”

It sounded like he was expecting his life to end and I looked up at him wondering if he had some premonition, but he just kept staring straight ahead scanning the sky as the first snowflakes fell.

By the time we reached the coach stop we were in a full-blown snowstorm. I helped Jim unharness the horses and lead them into the warmth of the stable. He gave them their feed, brushed them down, spoke to them both softly and made sure they were comfortable before clapping me on the shoulder and leading me into the hotel.

There was no sign of Mr. Mortimer or the Chisholms, so presumably they’d gone to their rooms. The innkeeper welcomed Jim like an old friend and I realized that after all the years of driving he probably had these friends all across the country.

“This is my friend Stephen. He’s been keeping me company on the drive from London. Stephen, this old highwayman is Black Bob. Make sure you hold on tightly to your money or he’ll have it off you before you know you even had it.”

Bob smiled and put out his hand. “Nice to meet you Stephen, take no notice of this old fraud. He’s getting so old he doesn’t know what he’s saying or where he’s going half the time. If you want to get to Cornwall, I suggest you stay up front with him while he’s driving or he’s likely to forget where he’s going and you’ll end up in Sheffield or worse. It’s just lucky the horses like it here so much that they know their own way or you wouldn’t even have got this far.”

“The only reason the horses like it is because they get better food than the customers. Talking of which how about serving us some dinner? It’s been a long cold drive and we’re so hungry even your food’ll taste good.”

“Go sit down by the fire, I’ll get Jen to bring you something.”

As we sat down, Mr. Mortimer and the Chisholms came down the stairs, took one look at us and sat as far away as possible. Jen came over and brought two big plates of stew. It smelled so good my mouth started to water and my stomach growled.

“You are hungry.” She smiled and set the plates in front of us.

We wolfed down the food without another word then washed it down with a couple of beers. Our hunger satisfied and our bodies warmed we sat back and relaxed.

“So, Stephen, it’s maybe none of my business but what are you doing going all the way to Cornwall? It’s an expensive trip and I don’t think you have the money just to visit a friend, or did you hold up a couple of toffs?”

I looked at Jim, and deciding that I could trust him, told him the whole story right from the arrival of Sarah just a few short weeks ago. When I finished he looked at me with a mixture of disbelief and concern. “So you think you can just go down there and rescue her from Lord Beecham?”

“I don’t know, but I can’t just do nothing.”

“Well, you’re either very brave or very foolish or possibly both. Since you’ve come this far, I s’pose there’s not much point in trying to change your mind. I know where Lord Beecham’s estate is. When we get to St. Ives, I’ll take you there. It’s not far, but you’ll have to be very careful, he lives in a well-guarded castle and I don’t think he’ll just invite you in. Have you thought what you’re going to do once you get there?”

I admitted that I hadn’t and he shook his head in disbelief.

“The things we do for love. Well, it’s getting late and we have an early start, so we better get up to the rooms. Do you have enough money to pay? If not, you can sleep in the stables. You’ll be good and warm with the horses.”

I told him I had some money, but thought I should save as much as I could so I’d sleep in the stables.

“Well, I’m a bit too old to be sleeping in stables, so I’ll be going up to my room. I’ll treat you to dinner.”

I insisted on paying my own way and went to the bar to ask Bob for the bill. I reached inside my shirt to retrieve my money just as Mr. Mortimer and Mr. Chisholm reached the bar next to me. I withdrew the two notes. Just as I offered the pound note to Bob, Mr. Mortimer gripped my hand.

“This is the thief that stole my money!” he shouted.

“He was sitting next to me on the coach; he must have picked my pocket. Fetch the police.”

Before I could object, Jim was at my side. “These are very serious allegations you’re making, do you have any proof?”

“I don’t need proof. This is just a common criminal, there’s no way he could have got this much money legally. Now call the police at once.”

“Are you sure it was him?” It was Mr. Chisholm.

“Of course I’m sure. I had the money when I got on the coach and it was gone when we reached Kingston. Who else could it be?”

“Well it does seem fairly conclusive. Someone had better fetch a constable.”

“NO! It’s my money. My parents gave it to me.” I finally found my voice.

“I’d be surprised if you even know who your parents are,” sneered Mr. Mortimer.

“You… you know my parents. You saw them at the Fox.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never been to any Fox.”

“But… but…”

“Innkeeper, call the police now, or I’ll have you arrested as well.”

Bob looked at me and then at Jim before saying, “I’m sorry I’ll have to send for the police. They’ll clear this up I’m sure. Jen go fetch the constable. Mr. Mortimer, take your hands off the boy.”

Mr. Mortimer glared at him but released my arm.

Ten minutes later, Jen returned with a policeman, who was immediately accosted by Mr. Mortimer. “Sergeant I want you to arrest this boy. He’s a thief.”

“Just hold on there now. What’s he s’posed to have stolen?”

“He stole my money on the coach and now he’s trying to spend it. It’s lucky I caught him when I did or who knows who else he would have robbed.”

“How much did he steal from you?”

“I had ten pounds when I got on the coach, when I arrived in Kingston I had nothing.”

“And how much does the boy have on him?”

“I have six pounds sir. My parents gave it to me for the trip.”

“Six pounds eh? It must be a very important trip for them to have given you so much money.”

“Yes sir, it is.”

“Well, would you like to tell us what is so important?”

“Err… no sir, I’m sorry I can’t.”

“It’s obvious he’s lying. No one would give this little thief six pounds”, Mr. Mortimer interrupted.

“Please, sir, I’ll do the questioning. Now you said you had ten pounds and the boy here only has six, he couldn’t have spent four pounds between Kingston and here. Is it possible it’s not your money?”

“Absolutely not. Now arrest this boy and return my money.”

The policeman turned back to me.

“O.K. son, now you’re going to have to give me an explanation as to how you came to have this money, or I’m going to have to take you in.”

“But I told you… It’s the truth.”

“I’m afraid that’s not good enough, if you can’t do better than that we’ll have to let a judge decide.”

“But…”

“Look, I need my money back now. I can’t wait for a judge. We leave first thing in the morning.”

“I’m sorry sir, it’s not up to me, we can see the judge tomorrow afternoon.” He picked up the money. “You’ll have to come with me son.”

And taking a hold of my arm, he led me out.

Chapter Six

We walked along the dark streets, the snow blowing in our faces. Reaching the police station, we went inside. There were two constables sitting by a small stove. “What have you got there, Sarge? Looks like a dangerous criminal to me.” The constables laughed.

“I don’t know about that but, he’s been accused of theft by a gentleman down at the coach stop. It seems a little unlikely based on the evidence, but we’ll have to let the judge decide tomorrow. For tonight he’s gonna stay with us. Do we have anyone in the jail tonight?”

“Just Willie, he’s drunk again, he was causing a disturbance down at the Guild hall, so we thought we’d keep him in for the night to sleep it off. He won’t be causing any more trouble tonight; he passed out as soon as we locked him up.”

“Alright let’s put our master criminal in with him then.”

One of the constables picked up a large ring with a bunch of keys and took me through a dimly lit corridor, unlocked a steel door and ushered me through, locking the door behind me. I don’t know how long I stood there in the darkness not knowing what to do. Slowly, as my eyes adjusted to the dark, I could just make out a sleeping figure, in the far corner. This was obviously Willie. He was so still he could have been dead but he let out a loud snore and muttered something unintelligible so I guess he was still breathing. I heard a scampering by my feet. Looking down I saw a huge rat sniffing around my wet shoes. I kicked out with all my might, and with an indignant squeal, it disappeared into the darkness. There was no heat in the cell and as the shock of my situation finally hit me, I started to shiver. I sunk down to the ground and hugged my knees, finally falling into a disturbed sleep. I dreamed of rats biting my face, and Mr. Mortimer accusing me in front of the judge, and Sarah chained in a room, rats climbing over her body… and then the constable was back with a cup of hot tea and some bread. It was morning and a grey light filtered through the bars high up on the wall. He went over to Willie and shook him out of his sleep, putting a cup of tea down next to him. “Come on Willie drink this and be on your way.”

Willie seemed quite comfortable where he was, pulling his coat over his head he went back to sleep.

I ate the bread and sipped the tea. Just as I finished, the door opened. It was Jim. “Hey Stephen how’re you feeling? He looked around the cell, the dirt floor, the drunk in the corner, the rats and the stink of urine and worse. “Guess you’ve been a lot better. Well I’m here to let you know I’m staying until you see the judge. Mr. Mortimer has to stay anyway so I told the Chisholms that we couldn’t leave ‘til later. They weren’t too happy but they don’t really have much choice do they?”

I thanked him and he said, “Tell me. Is there any truth to these accusations?”

“NO. I told you my parents and Vicky gave me the money. That Mortimer is a liar. He used that same excuse of temporarily not having any money when he arrived at the Fox weeks ago, and now he’s just trying to steal my money.”

“Alright, I had to ask. We’ll talk to the judge this afternoon. Don’t worry we’ll get you out of this. I’ll see you again later.” He squeezed my arm and the constable let him out, along with Willie, who didn’t want to go, and only left after a lot of complaining and a swift kick to the backside. I sat back down on the cold floor and stared at the small window high above, how was I going to get out of here? Would the judge believe me or Mr. Mortimer? How could I convince him without telling the whole story? If I told him the whole story, would he believe that? No, I couldn’t tell him about Sarah. Somehow, I’d just have to convince him I was telling the truth. I had to get out of here I was Sarah’s only chance. With these thoughts running through my head, I was interrupted by a constable, telling me it was time to see the judge. He led me out of the cell and back down the corridor we’d walked along last night.

The court was just a short walk through the town and as we climbed the steps to the courthouse, we ran into Mr. Mortimer. He looked at me briefly then went in ahead of us.

The town clock struck one as I was led to the prisoners dock. The judge entered, took his seat, and the court was called to order. My case was called first and the charges read out. Mr. Mortimer was the first witness. He repeated the accusation he’d made last night adding a few embellishments. He said he had felt some pressure against his pocket when I’d sat next to him on the coach but had thought nothing of it until later when he realized he’d been robbed. By that time it was too late, and it wasn’t until he saw me with his money at the coach stop that he made his accusation. The judge asked what I had to say in my defence. All I could say was that I didn’t do it, that my parents gave the money to me. He asked for any other witnesses. Jim, who I hadn’t noticed up to now, stood up and said he would like to say something. The judge asked if he had witnessed the theft. When he said that he hadn’t the judge told him to sit down. He tried to object but the judge said the constable would remove him if he didn’t sit down. Turning in my direction, he ordered me to stand.

“We only have your word against the word of a gentleman. I therefore have no choice but to find you guilty of theft. You are hereby sentenced to five years in the county jail.”

I stood there in shock, five years. FIVE YEARS? The constable took my arm, guided me out of the courtroom and into the street. As the cold air hit my face it shook me out of my stupor. The constable’s grip was not very tight and as we reached the bottom of the courthouse stairs two men arguing distracted his attention. Without thinking, I ripped my arm out of his grip and ran. I heard his shout behind me as I took the first street I came to. I ran blindly, slipping in the snow and ice but running, running, running. I don’t know where I went. I turned left then right then left then right until finally I reached the edge of town. I sank down against a tree, my heart pounding against my ribs, my breath coming in short spurts. Looking back there was no sign of anyone pursuing me. Scooping up a handful of snow, I ran it over my face and hair then sucked the cold fresh icicles into my mouth.

But, I didn’t dare stay any longer. As soon as I’d recovered my breath I took off along the long cold road ahead. I didn’t know which direction I was going. But it was away from Guildford and that’s all that mattered.

I kept running, stopping to catch my breath, then running again. As the afternoon wore on, I watched the sun going down in front of me, so I knew I was heading west. As the sun left the sky and the night set in I was finally too exhausted, too cold and too hungry to go any further.

A barn sat on the side of a hill off to my left. Making my way towards it, I kept low so as not to be seen. Although I hadn’t seen anyone since leaving Guildford, I didn’t want to take any chances now. Reaching the barn I opened the door a crack, it was silent and I slipped inside. It wasn’t much warmer inside than out, but at least it provided shelter from the wind. I looked around for something to eat but there was nothing, and after a fruitless search, I sank down exhausted on a pile of straw and fell into a sleep full of bad dreams and nightmares.

A bright sun shining through an opening in the side of the barn woke me. Peering out the door, I saw a figure coming towards me, a dog bounding along at his side. I looked for a way out but there was no other. I was trapped. The farmer, I assumed he was a farmer, was only a hundred yards away, and if he found me I didn’t know what he would do. I couldn’t go back to jail. I looked around frantically then saw a ladder leading up to the hayloft. I ran to it and climbed up. I could only hope he wouldn’t come up. I covered myself with hay and lay as still as I could.

The door opened and I heard him enter, followed by his dog. The dog ran straight to where I’d been sleeping moments earlier, sniffed the straw and started barking.

“Shut up Tucker”, the farmer shouted. With a whine he stopped barking but continued sniffing and followed my trail to the ladder. Putting his paws on the second step, he barked again. “I’ll cut your damn tongue out if you don’t stop that infernal noise.” The barking stopped, but he continued to whine at the ladder.

The farmer ignored him, went to a bench and rummaged through some old bridles and halters. Finding whatever he was looking for, he called the dog, and went back out. The dog did not want to leave, and was frantically trying to climb the ladder, until finally the farmer shouted, “Tucker you damn mangy mutt, get out here now.” Looking up once more, he glumly slunk out.

I waited a few minutes before climbing down the ladder and carefully peering out the stable door watched the farmer and his dog, heading back the way they’d come. I continued watching, waiting until they were just a couple of specks in the distance, before stealing out of the barn and running in the opposite direction.

I hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning, my stomach was growling and my head was aching. I had to get something to eat before I went much further, but what? I was penniless and if anyone saw me, I risked being recognized and taken back to jail.

I trudged on, weighted down with hunger and fear, following the road heading west. Every step was a step closer to Sarah, but how many steps could I take before I could go no further? I was slowing down! There was no running now, just one foot in front of the other trying to ignore the pounding in my head and the cramps in my stomach, the fear in my chest. Walking for hours, stopping only to eat some snow, my legs ached, my shoes soaked through… I kept walking.

The sun slowly sinking, taking with it whatever heat it had given. Body shivers shook my body… damp, cold, hunger… how much further could I go? I saw a house in the distance. Whatever the risks I had to get something to eat. Without conscious thought or intention, I turned towards the house.

By the time I reached it, the sun had disappeared behind the hills to the west. The sky bathed in the last pink rays of the day coated the fields with an orange glow. The unlit house stood in the middle of a silent world, suddenly broken by a murder of crows having a final argument before settling down for the night in a lonely tree standing behind the house. A muddy path, which at one time may have been paved, lead up to the house. Now just a few flagstones fought to retain their place in the oozing mud. Stepping from stone to stone, I made my way to the front door. Gathering up my nerve, pushed on by hunger I knocked.

Silence!

I knocked again, and again - Silence!

I stepped off the path and peered into the window. It was now completely dark, both inside and out.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING? YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING TO BREAK INTO MY HOUSE? I’LL HAVE YOUR GUTS FOR GARTERS BEFORE YOU GET INTO MY HOUSE?”

I jumped back from the window and turned towards the front door, almost falling over in the slippery mud. My heart was beating so hard I thought my chest would explode and then, I almost burst out laughing. Shaking a fist at me and with a frying pan held high in her other hand was a woman who when she was young and upright may have been five feet tall. She looked to be about a hundred years old. I’m not sure if she could even see me but since she was waving the frying pan in my general direction I wasn’t about to take any chances.

“I’m very sorry ma’am I thought there was nobody home…”

“SO YOU THOUGHT YOU WOULD JUST BREAK IN AND STEAL WHATEVER YOU COULD FIND?”

N’ NO ma’am I was just passing I’m on my way to the West Country and I was wondering if you could spare some food. I haven’t eaten in two days…”

“SPARE SOME FOOD? WHO DO YOU THINK I AM? YOUR MOTHER?”

“No, of course not, I would be happy to work in return for whatever you could spare.”

“NO I CAN’T SPARE ANYTHING. GO AWAY BEFORE I BASH YOUR HEAD.”

“I’m very sorry to have disturbed you ma’am, I’ll be on my way.”

“ON YOUR WAY? JUST LIKE THAT AFTER SCARING ME HALF WAY TO DEATH AND BACK? I DON’T THINK SO! NOW THAT YOU’RE HERE YOU CAN JUST HAVE A LOOK AT MY BACK DOOR IT WON’T CLOSE PROPERLY, THEN YOU CAN BE ON YOUR WAY.”

“Certainly ma’am.” And I stepped towards her.

She raised the pan even higher “GO AROUND THE OTHER WAY. I KNOW WHAT YOU YOUNG MEN ARE AFTER, AND I’M TELLING YOU, YOU CAN FORGET ANY OF THOSE IDEAS.”

In spite of my disappointment, I repressed a grin, apologized and walked round to the back of the house. She was waiting for me just inside the back door, still holding on to the pan although lowered to her side now.

“WELL DO YOU THINK YOU CAN FIX IT?”

It was open and when I tried to shut it, it got stuck about an inch from the jamb. I tried forcing it but it wouldn’t go any further so I pushed it wide open trying to see what was causing it to stick. It was completely dark and I could hardly see a thing so I asked if she had a candle or a lamp so I could inspect the hinges.

She turned back into the house without saying a word. Just as I thought she wasn’t coming back I saw the flicker of a candle coming down the hall. As she reached the door, a gust of wind came up and blew the candle out. She didn’t seem to notice and handed it to me anyway. “THERE THAT SHOULD HELP.”

It seemed that she only had one level of talking, which was nothing less than a shout.

As I stepped forward to take the candle, I felt something against my foot. Reaching down I found a piece of wood lying against the doorjamb. I picked it up and the door closed perfectly. From the other side of the door I heard her shout “STAY THERE AND I’LL BRING YOU SOMETHING. BUT DON’T YOU GO GETTING ANY IDEAS.”