He looked around and, seeing no one about, he used his tool to defeat the door lock and slipped inside. It smelled of oil and petrol and dampness. There were elaborate spiderwebs spun in all the garage’s crevices. He approached the noble Singer with reverence, as though he were in the presence of a divine monarch.
He ran his eye along the long bonnet and then drew up the courage to touch the metal husk. It felt cool and solid. Charlie opened the driver’s-side door. It smelled of old leather, and the buttons on the dash gleamed like stars in the sky. He sat and gripped the steering wheel, his fingers curling and uncurling around the sphere. He didn’t know how to drive a car, but here Charlie Matters was sitting at the wheel of a Singer!
He eyed the back seat, where he imagined Molly and her parents would ride, perhaps with a picnic hamper next to them full of wonderful things to eat.
He opened the glove box and fumbled around until his fingers touched something metallic. He drew out the key to the car and another key that most likely was to the garage door. Goggle-eyed, he looked at the ignition and the starter button, but then his courage fled. He did pocket the keys because he knew some bloke would happen along here who had the skill and courage and the Singer would be long gone.
He got out, used the key to lock all the doors, and left the garage after securing it, too, using the other key. He hopped onto the rear bumper of a delivery van and rode it halfway to Covent Garden. When he finally reached the alley he spied the man talking to Oliver. He saw him show Oliver something that Charlie couldn’t make out. Then Molly appeared from the other end of the alley and they both spoke with the man.
While staying out of sight, Charlie clearly heard his name mentioned several times. And then the name Lonzo Rossi came up.
The man had the look of a copper. Charlie had seen enough of them to know. Lonzo had surely told on him.
After the policeman left, and Molly and Oliver went inside, Charlie slunk forward and peered through the window into the shop. Molly and Oliver were talking and looking very worried, and he could understand why. His shameful secret was now fully revealed to them. He was a criminal, a murderer in fact, destined for the gallows.
Only a few minutes before, thrilled with the money he had earned and the possessions he had recouped for Molly, and the excitement of sitting in the Singer and imagining all sorts of possibilities that did not include a noose around his neck, Charlie’s spirits were now full the other way.
He rushed off into the growing darkness.
Charlie wasn’t sure where he was going to go, but he could not go back to The Book Keep. He could not meet the eye of Mr. Oliver and especially Molly. He remembered what she had said after reading the news account of Eddie’s and the constable’s death.
Well, I hope they catch those other boys. And I hope they feel terrible about what happened.
I do, Molly, I surely do. But I can’t do nothin’ about it now. Eddie’s dead. Lonzo’s nearly dead for sure. And I’m next.
He had never felt so lost, or miserable. He had thought his mother’s death followed by his grandmother’s passing would be the worst things that ever happened to him. But now that his own survival was at stake, the fear in him was all-consuming. And he felt terrible guilt for being so selfish that his own life was more important to him than his dear mother’s, who would have willingly sacrificed hers for his without a second thought.
You ain’t even worth a farthin’, Charlie. Honorable? You’re no better than you ought to be. You’re no better than Lonzo. You steal and you get folks killed. You deserve the rope.
Even as he thought this the tears leaked from his eyes and his throat constricted, as though the hemp was already around it.
You’re not a boy, Charlie. You’re a man. Act like it.
But though he said the familiar mantra in his head, it did nothing to change how he felt, which was scared, cold, and hungry. He had money in his pocket, but he could never spend it on himself.
He made a sudden decision and crept back to The Book Keep. He gave a searching look through the glass to make sure no one was about.
Oliver had forgotten to lock the door, so Charlie held the bell still, slipped inside, placed the money and the things he’d found at Molly’s ruined house on the counter, and fled.
He looked back once at the little shop that held the only friends he had left in the world. This placed another prodigious lump in his throat, because Charlie realized he would never see them again. He was nothing but trouble, and friends did not bring trouble to their mates.
He picked up his pace and then broke into a sprint. Charlie had always been fast. Running from potential disaster all the time just did that to you.
A Glum Discovery
Later, both Molly and Oliver stared in dismay at the money and other items salvaged from Molly’s home that were resting on the counter.
“Charlie was here,” she said pointedly. “These things are from my home.” She opened the tin box, revealing the money inside. “This was our household funds.” She lifted the photo of her and her parents from the pile and studied it, as Oliver rubbed his chin, evidently lost in thought. He glanced at the doorway.
“Do you... could he have seen us speaking with the inspector and perhaps deduced what that was about? Or possibly he overheard...?”
“And then he left this here and...?” said Molly, looking to be near tears.
“It would explain things, surely. And then he might have run off, not wishing to bring any trouble upon us.”
“We have to find him, Mr. Oliver. We have to tell him that we know he had nothing to do with what happened to that boy and the constable.”
“But it seems as though he was here that night, Molly.”
“You can’t believe he wanted that boy and the constable to die.”
“Absolutely not. Charlie is a good lad. But he... well, he...”
“What?” she said sharply.
“He actually did pinch some money from me one night.”
“What!”
“But he brought it all back the next day. I mean, he came all this way to bring the money back. Now that is a good person.”
“Yes, it is,” said a relieved Molly.
“But in the eyes of Inspector Willoughby, he was at the scene of the crime and then ran, which, in itself, makes him culpable.”
“Then what can we do?”
“We need to find Charlie and make sure he’s safe and that he knows we believe him to be innocent and that we will... shelter him.”
“But isn’t that a crime?”
Oliver looked deeply troubled. “It could be considered such, but I am the adult and will thus be held accountable. Because of your age you will not be.”
“Charlie is younger than I am, and yet he is being hunted by the police for a crime, so I’m not sure your position regarding me is accurate,” countered Molly.
“You are absolutely right about that,” conceded Oliver, sighing.
“But I don’t care about that. Charlie is my friend. In fact, you two are the only friends I have. So how do we go about finding him?”
“The first place to look is his old flat. He might have gone back there. However, it may already have another tenant living in it. With housing scarce, these things tend to happen fast. We’ll go there straightaway.”
Molly picked up the money Charlie had left behind and handed it to Oliver. “You should have this. It’s... partial payment for us, at least now for me, to be staying here. Until Charlie returns,” she added quickly.