‘No, no... don’t take your hand away, please...’
Evelyn complied, left his hand pressed close to Edward’s. He found his uncle disturbing. The black eyes held him and he could see the huge man’s body was shaking. But there was no tremor in the deep, husky voice. ‘Keep looking at me, don’t take your eyes off my face, Evelyn, and listen... It’s very important for you to understand, take in everything I say.’
Edward kept his left hand pressed against the glass, against his son’s. His voice was calm as he told Evelyn slowly that being kidnapped must have been a dreadful experience, to be dragged from the school gates...
Evelyn made to withdraw his hand, and Edward almost shouted, ‘Keep your eyes on me, you must remember every word, understand me, every word.’
The minutes ticked by while the two of them sat with phones pressed to their ears, hands against the glass. Edward gave Evelyn dates, times, details, and he could tell by the expression on the boy’s face that he was taking it all in.
When the bell rang, Edward kept talking, but Evelyn banged on the glass, shaking his head. The phone had been disconnected.
Edward dropped the receiver and put both hands against the glass. Evelyn pressed his face to the glass, mouthed ‘thank you’ as the door behind him opened.
It was over so fast — the handcuffs replaced, the two guards gripping Evelyn’s elbows as they led him away. He looked back to see his uncle, his hands still raised to the window as if in contact with Evelyn’s, his huge frame filling the entire soundproof cubicle. He was banging on the glass, shouting at his son, words Evelyn couldn’t hear... and then the door was locked behind him.
Alone in his cell, Evelyn lay on his bunk. He had felt such power, such strength from the big man. He had been drawn close, just as if he were still the child who had run to him all those years ago. He recalled exactly what Edward had said when he had found the little boy crying at the big dining table, crying because he didn’t want to leave the manor. Edward had whispered, ‘We are blood to blood, put your hand on my heart, feel it, feel me... I am always here, don’t ever be afraid.’
Evelyn placed his hand across his own heart. It had all gone so wrong and he had no one to blame but himself. He remembered not just the words but also what it had felt like all those years ago, slipping his tiny hand inside his uncle’s jacket, pressing his palm against the big man’s heart. In that brief moment he had felt an overwhelming and powerful bond, and he had felt it again today, even though he had been unable to touch him. He wasn’t afraid any more — he knew he would be able to take whatever punishment was handed out to him, and he vowed that he would make it up to everyone, especially Alex. Calmly, he drifted into a deep sleep. It was strange because since his arrest he had been unable to, but now, as if another heart beat in rhythm with his own, he felt at peace.
There was nothing more Edward could do. He didn’t even say goodbye to Alex, just threw his old case in the boot of his hired Citroen.
Driving out of Paris he felt, as ever, the desire to overtake every other vehicle on the road. Edward knew that Evelyn would more than likely be acquitted — a few months in jail, perhaps, and then he would be free.
Of late Edward had been drawn back into moments of his past, flashes of total recall. Now, as the sun broke through the clouds, he heard his father’s voice. That soft, gentle voice as he sat Alex on his knee and explained to him about life and death. Edward had never sat on his father’s knee, not that he could remember, it had always been Alex. What was it Freedom had said? Ahhhh, yes now he remembered — he had said, ‘If you love something, set it free. If it comes back it is yours, if it doesn’t then it never was.’ Edward had promised his son to Alex, he would never again try to take him away. It would be the one promise in his life that he would keep. He would set them both free... He put his foot down harder on the accelerator, pushing it to the floor, and the car quickly picked up speed. He sang at the top of his voice, ‘Can you rokka Romany, can you play the bosh...’
Driving at over a hundred miles an hour, he passed a police car. They switched on their siren and gave chase... Edward roared with laughter, and sang even louder, ‘Can you jal adrey the staripen, can you chin the cosh...’
The Citroen began to trail thick, black smoke from its exhaust. Cars swerved, mounting the hard shoulder as the police car, siren wailing, gave chase...
The back tyre of the Citroen blew, and sparks mingled with thick, acrid smoke from the burning rubber... The car seemed to leap into the air, turned half over and skidded for more than fifty yards on its bonnet before crashing into a low brick wall. As if in slow motion, the car righted itself...
The police car that had chased Edward, followed by two others, pulled up, and uniformed gendarmes ran towards the wrecked Citroen.
An hysterical woman with her pet dog began to scream, a thin, high-pitched sound... In the pandemonium the dog broke free and began snarling and snapping at the car.
As the gendarmes came within yards of the car, Edward Barkley could clearly be seen, a calm half smile on his face. He raised a hand and waved them back. His gesture saved their lives. They paused for a moment, and in that split second the petrol tank exploded. The car became a mass of twisted metal and shattered glass... A thick, black, mushroom-shaped cloud rose from the wreck, spreading its choking fumes in the air...
Helpless and horrified, the watchers stood... It was eerie — there were no screams from the car — the man who was burning alive in front of their eyes was sitting looking at them, and smiling. The dog stopped howling, it slunk on its belly and whimpered as the terrible black smoke swirled...
There was a sudden, unreal silence, not a single sound, an unnatural, ominous quiet... All the witnesses seemed frozen as if held in time for a fraction of a second. They saw a black crow, black-eyed with glittering, silky wings... It flew overhead and hung poised above the charred car. It screamed, a single, sharp note, then flapped its wings and rose, straight through the smoke and into the clear sky beyond.
Jinks woke in the middle of the night, feeling as though her body was on fire... She screamed, the heat was suffocating her. She scrabbled at the bedclothes, ripping them away from her body, then started to cough, gasping for breath.
Her bedroom door was flung open and her flatmate switched on the light. Jinks was sitting bolt upright in bed, her eyes staring, still screaming. She stopped abruptly, opening and closing her mouth like a silent bird.
‘Jinks... Jinks, wake up...’
Her friend shook her, but she seemed unaware of being touched. Eventually she lay back against the pillow, the sweat glistening on her forehead. Her friend quickly rinsed a face cloth and laid it gently across her brow. ‘You were having a nightmare, are you all right now?’
Jinks took the cloth from her forehead and pressed it to her throat. The coolness soothed her, and she apologized for waking her. From a distance she heard her voice saying everything was fine, she was all right.
At last her bedroom door closed and she was alone. She didn’t understand what was happening to her. All her senses were sharpened — the hairs on her arms and neck were tingling, and the tips of her fingers twitched of their own accord... She tried to regulate her breathing, stop the fluttering breathlessness, but to no avail...
Her head and body felt light, carrying her out on to the balcony, into the night, of their own accord. The shutters opened wide with one touch of her fingertips, the curtains billowed in the still night... Jinks knew, knew he was dead. In her dream she had seen the road, the blazing car, the smile on her father’s handsome face... Edward Barkley was dead. Her chest heaved as a searing, scorching pain ripped through her, forcing the breath from her body. Something... something had flown out of her...