Now it was Evelyne’s turn to hold her father gently, wipe his tear-stained face. She said that maybe it was fate, fate that made her cross the path of the gypsies.
‘I’ll leave for Cardiff on the first train, Da, all right?’
**
The mist clung to the top of the mountain, the grey rain drizzled, making grey, cobbled streets shine. As Evelyne turned at the corner to wave to Hugh at the bedroom window, he felt a terrible sense of loss, as if he would never see her again.
Evelyne passed three women standing at the water taps. They turned their backs to her and whispered. Evelyne held her head high and walked on.
‘You’ll not be teaching my kids, Evelyne Jones, you dirty gyppo lover.’
A group of men leaving their house for the early shift called to her and raised their fists. ‘You should know better, Evelyne Jones. Our lads not good enough for you, eh?’
Their laughter echoed down the wet street, and she hunched her shoulders as if to defend herself from their malice. She crossed the street so she wouldn’t have to face another group of women who stood waiting for the post office to open. They, too, stared at her then turned and whispered to each other. She gave them a frosty smile and almost bumped into Lizzie-Ann dragging the two kids and a pramful of laundry.
Evelyne stopped, and Lizzie-Ann had the grace to blush — she had, after all, thrown a clod of earth at Evelyne the night before. ‘Well, where you off to at this hour, thought a woman of leisure like you would have a lie-in of a wet morning?’
Evelyne murmured that she was on her way to Cardiff.
‘Going to see your boyfriend, are you? Better make it fast before they hang him.’
Evelyne looked into Lizzie-Ann’s face. Her hair hung in rat’s tails, her coat was’ stained, her legs bare and her shoes so worn that her heels, red and raw, were showing. ‘That’s right, go on, take a good look at me, Evelyne Jones, nothing a few pounds wouldn’t put right, but then you’re such a tight bitch, you’d not a give a beggar a farthing.’
Evelyne banged her cardboard box on top of the pram and pulled Lizzie-Ann to her by the lapels of her coat.
‘What have I ever done to you, Lizzie-Ann, to make you talk like this? Tell me now, I don’t deserve it and you know it.’
Lizzie-Ann pushed Evelyne away, her voice rising hysterically.
‘You’ve always been too good, haven’t you? You give me a roof over me head but begrudge a shilling for food, you’re a hard one, Evelyne Jones, you always were …’
Evelyne felt sick. She couldn’t fight Lizzie-Ann, there. was nothing to say. She picked up her cardboard box and turned away.
‘Don’t you turn your back on me, Evelyne … Evelyne… Evie!’
There was such desperation in Lizzie-Ann’s voice, it made Evelyne turn. Old before her years, beaten, roughened, the prettiest girl in the village had gone, and in the big, pansy eyes was a terrible, heartbreaking desperation. For a fleeting moment Evelyne wanted to hold her, but the accusing voice persisted, ‘Where you going? Cardiff is it? Oh, well, all right for some, go on, there’ll be more than one person pleased. You should stay there, your poor Da can’t get up the courage to tell you he wants to get married, go on, you won’t be missed.’
A few of the women joined in, chipping in their farthing’s-worth.
Evelyne was already walking away, knowing Lizzie-Ann was trailing behind.
‘Take the deeds to Doris’ house, take them, just like you took everything, without a thank you.’
Head high, she strode off, clutching her cardboard box in front of her. Lizzie-Ann broke down, propping her swollen, sagging body against a filthy brick wall. She cried out, but her voice was distorted with tears, ‘Oh, I wanted to go to London … oh God, I wanted to go to London.’
***
Somewhere out of the past Evelyne heard the soft, sweet voice of her mother repeating, ‘Get out of the valley, Evie, don’t let it drag you down,’ well, she would get out, and she would never come back, there was nothing left for her here.
As she paid for her ticket, her mouth trembled, and she had to bite her lip until it bled to stop herself from crying. She had only one goodbye to say, it cried in her throat, the sound of the train’s steam hissing and the ‘chunt, chunt’ of the engine drowned her words, ‘Goodbye, Da, goodbye, Da.’
BOOK TWO
Chapter 13
EVELYNE walked up the stone steps of the police station in Cardiff and stood at the high counter. The sergeant on duty gave her a pleasant smile. ‘What can I be doing for you, ma’am?
Taking a deep breath, Evelyne coughed. ‘I have information regarding the murders of the four boys. I would like to make a statement, and I am prepared to go to any court and swear on oath that what I have to say is God’s truth.’
The sergeant rubbed his head and leant on the desk. ‘And what murders would these be, young lady?’
‘The gypsy revenge killings … my name is Evelyne Jones. I want to make a statement.’
Half an hour later, after she had related everything to the sergeant, she was taken to meet the detective chief inspector. The sergeant held the door open for her and placed a stack of forms on the inspector’s desk.
‘I think you’d better listen to what this lady has to say, sir.’
The inspector listened attentively to every word, nodding his head and refilling his pipe. He puffed and stared at a spot on the wall just above Evelyne’s head.
‘And that, sir, is the truth. I was with Freedom Stubbs the night he is supposed to have killed Willie Thomas, and I’ll stand up in court and say so.’
The inspector tapped his pipe and began to scrape at the bowl. He chose his words carefully, because asking this tall, stiff young woman if she was ‘familiar’ with the gypsy was a delicate matter.
‘I know him only as someone who helped me on the night of the rape, that is all.’
The inspector felt she was withholding something, she knew more than she admitted, but he had to take her statement and pass it to his superiors. The statement took an hour and fifteen minutes to complete, and Evelyne’s meticulous handwriting and perfect spelling impressed everyone.
‘I see you’ve put no address down, Miss Jones, where are you residing in Cardiff?’
Unable to think of where she would stay, Evelyne bit her lip. A large poster behind the inspector caught her eye — it was an advertisement for a charity ball at the Grand Hotel.
‘I’ll be at the Grand, Sir.’
He looked at her for a moment then carefully wrote down the name of the hotel.
‘Will Mr Stubbs be released now?’ Evelyne’s innocent question made them laugh, it wasn’t as simple as that. The man was charged with murder and one statement was not good enough. There were, after all, three more murders with Freedom Stubbs the main suspect in each case. ‘Will I be allowed to see him?’ The men flicked sly glances at each other and then back to Evelyne, looking at her from top to toe. One of the uniformed men said it could possibly be arranged.
‘Thank you for coming in, Miss Jones, and we will contact you at the Grand Hotel if we feel it is necessary.’
As Evelyne walked out of the office, she heard a chuckle behind her and the inspector speaking to one of the officers, ‘I’m sure Miss Jones will be at the Grand, lads, I’m sure.’
She felt humiliated, and realized she had accomplished nothing, and they were laughing at her behind her back. She took a deep breath, decided she would have a good breakfast and think about what she should do next. She would have breakfast at the Grand, and book a room there.