‘A pattern of deception is beginning to emerge.’ The County Inspector looked at the document in his hand. ‘Is there anything else you wish to add?’
‘Nothing, sir — aside from my humblest apologies.’ Knox waited, not daring to breathe. Perhaps all they wanted him to do was grovel.
‘You don’t, for example, wish to make it known that you were acquainted with the thief?’
‘I knew who he was but that’s not surprising, given the size of the community we both grew up in.’
Hastings coughed. ‘Constable Knox was given special dispensation to serve in his county of birth, sir.’
‘Ah, I see. But I’m assuming you didn’t treat this man, this suspected thief, any differently to others you have taken into custody.’
‘No differently, sir.’
The County Inspector smiled for the first time. He picked up the piece of paper he had been consulting. ‘I have here a letter, signed by your own father, stating that you took the thief, Davy McMullan, back to your family’s dwelling that same day, and presented him to them as a friend in need.’
It was as if the air had been sucked out of the room. Knox had to stop himself from retching. The worst of it was that his own flesh and blood had betrayed him; he didn’t know where to look.
‘Is it true, Constable? Did you introduce McMullan to your father as a friend rather than your captive?’
Knox didn’t have the capacity to lie any more. He nodded listlessly.
‘Speak up, Constable.’
‘Yes, it’s true.’
‘And is it also true that you allowed McMullan to go free because you felt sorry for him?’
Knox could feel the tears in his eyes. ‘Yes.’
The County Inspector shoved another piece of paper across the desk. ‘That’s good, Constable. You will sign this document, if you don’t mind.’ He held out a pen and indicated that Knox should approach the desk.
Knox tried to stand up but his legs buckled. ‘What is it?’
‘It’s a legal document. By signing it, you will be recognising that the decision I have taken regarding your situation has been informed solely by your behaviour towards Davy McMullan — and is in no way related to your regrettable errors in the matter of the murder investigation.’
Dazed, Knox went over to the desk, picked up the pen and signed his name. ‘What decision have you taken, sir?’
The County Inspector took the document and inspected it. Eventually, when he was satisfied that everything was in order, he said, ‘Your employment at the constabulary has been terminated with immediate effect.’
Knox just managed to make it back to his chair before his legs gave way.
‘Once you leave this room, you will change out of your uniform and you’ll present it to the sub-inspector along with any other items belonging to the constabulary.’
‘How will I pay my rent? How will I live?’ His thoughts turned to the weekly ration of corn.
‘That is no longer our concern.’ The County Inspector gestured to the door. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse us…’
‘I have a wife and a young child. This is all I have, sir. All that’s standing between us and…’ Knox couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence.
‘Then, sir, you should have considered your responsibilities more carefully before you appointed yourself judge and jury in the matter of Davy McMullan.’
Knox thought about throwing himself on to the floor and begging for his position. ‘ Please, sir…’
The County Inspector stared at him dry-eyed and held up his hand. ‘That will be all.’
He didn’t know how far he had walked, or for how long, but by the time he arrived home, it was dark. He was greeted at the gate by the dog. Martha must have heard the barks because the door opened and her face appeared. She saw at once that something was wrong. Ushering him into the cottage, she sat him down next to the fire and then pressed her warm hands against his icy cheeks.
‘What’s the matter, my darling? You look terrible and you’re so cold.’ She stared at him, her expression guileless and loving.
It made him despise himself even more; the stupidity and selfishness of his need to be good. ‘I’m fine.’ He smiled weakly. ‘I’ve just had a long day.’
Martha took a step back and studied him. ‘You don’t look fine, Michael. You look sick.’
‘Really, I’m fine.’ He had kept his uniform for the day as he’d had nothing to change into. ‘I just need to sit for a while and get warm.’
‘When I opened the front door and saw you by the gate, I thought you were about to cry.’
Knox could feel his grip on the situation begin to loosen. He knew he would have to tell Martha what had happened in time — but not before he’d come up with a plan. He had two pounds in savings — hidden under the ground in the yard. This would pay for the rent and keep them in food until some time in March. If he could find alternative employment, news of his dismissal wouldn’t be so devastating.
‘It was just one of those days.’ He corrected himself. ‘ Another of those days.’
‘Are you sure that’s all it is?’ She looked at him dubiously. ‘You don’t seem your usual self.’
More than anything Knox wanted to tell her the truth, tell her that he’d been dismissed, because this was what they had always done — tell one another the truth — but he felt too frightened and too ashamed. ‘Really, Martha, I’m just tired down to my bones.’
She didn’t appear convinced but decided not to push it any further. ‘Well, I’ll just put on the water for supper.’
Nodding silently, Knox thought about their dwindling supply of corn. ‘Just give me half of what I’d usually have. They fed us today.’
She came over to where he was sitting and touched his forehead. ‘You don’t have a fever.’
‘I feel fine, Martha, really I do. I’ll just go upstairs and look in on James.’
‘He was asking for you earlier.’
As soon as he reached the top of the stairs, Knox had to steady himself by holding on to the banister. His lip started to quiver. Looking up, he saw James, fast asleep in the cot, and he started to weep.
Knox woke early, before it was light, and slipped out of bed without waking Martha. He dressed quickly in civilian clothes and a pair of old boots and went downstairs. There, he lit a candle and let himself out into the garden, where he was greeted by Tom, who had forgotten the indignity of being locked out in the cold and jumped up at him, wagging his tail. It was drizzling and most of the snow had melted, which meant the ground was no longer frozen. Watched by the dog, Knox found a shovel in the coal shed, went to the spot under one of the birch trees, and sliced the blade into the earth. It took him less than a minute to dig up the pouch he’d buried there. Brushing it, he emptied the coins into his hand and counted out two pounds and twenty shillings. He put the two pounds back in the pouch and then buried it again, patting the mud into place with the back of the shovel. With the twenty shillings in his pocket, Knox let himself back into the cottage, followed by Tom. There, he swept out the grate, prepared the fire and lit it with a match.
While he waited for the fire to catch, he retrieved the daguerreo-types and the letters he’d hidden at the back of the dresser. Had all this been worth losing his position for? Knox stared into the grate, trying to work out how long two pounds, twenty shillings would last. It would have to pay for coal, food and of course the rent. Would it be possible to see out the rest of the winter on such a sum? Perhaps only February, if he was frugal, Knox decided. A more immediate concern was what he would tell Martha. Part of him couldn’t bring himself to deliver the bad news. This wasn’t just because she would be angry with him but because he didn’t want to lose her opinion of him, to see himself reduced in her eyes to the status of pauper. After her anger had abated, she would pity him, and most of all he couldn’t bear to see this because he deserved to be punished for what he had done. He had put his family at risk, and for what? So that a boy he’d never met would know that his father had perished.