A Prisoner of Birth Read online

  The governor’s strictures, as he called them, rather suited Danny, as he was not allowed to mix with the Cartwright family, their friends or any members of the public. In fact, he was not permitted to speak to anyone other than the accompanying officers until he was back inside the prison walls. The possibility of another four years in Belmarsh was quite enough to concentrate the mind.

  Pascoe and Jenkins stood on either side of him, some way back from the mourners who surrounded the grave. Danny was relieved to find that Nick’s clothes might have been tailor-made for him – well, perhaps the trousers could have been an inch longer, and although he had never worn a hat before, it had the advantage of shielding his face from any curious onlookers.

  Father Michael opened the service with a prayer while Danny watched a gathering that was far larger than he had anticipated. His mother looked pale and drawn, as if she had been weeping for days, and Beth was so thin that a dress he well remembered now hung loosely on her, no longer emphasizing her graceful figure. Only his two-year-old daughter, Christy, was oblivious to the occasion as she played quietly by her mother’s side; but then, she had only ever come into contact with her dad briefly, followed by month-long intervals, so she’d probably long forgotten him. Danny hoped that the only memory of her father wouldn’t be of visiting him in prison.

  Danny was touched to see Beth’s father standing by her side, head bowed, and just behind the family, a tall elegant young man in a black suit, lips pursed, a look of smouldering anger in his eyes. Danny suddenly felt guilty that he hadn’t replied to any of Alex Redmayne’s letters since the appeal.

  When Father Michael had finished intoning the prayers, he bowed his head before delivering his eulogy. ‘The death of Danny Cartwright is a modern tragedy,’ he told his parishioners as he looked down at the coffin. ‘A young man who had lost his way, and so troubled was he in this world that he took his own life. Those of us who knew Danny well still find it hard to believe that such a gentle, considerate man could have committed any crime, let alone the slaying of his closest friend. Indeed, many of us in this parish,’ he glanced at an innocent constable standing by the entrance to the church, ‘have still to be convinced that the police arrested the right person.’ A smattering of applause broke out among some of the mourners encircling the grave. Danny was pleased to see that Beth’s father was among them.

  Father Michael raised his head. ‘But for now, let us remember the son, the young father, the gifted leader and sportsman, for many of us believe that had Danny Cartwright lived, his name would have echoed far beyond the streets of Bow.’ Applause broke out a second time. ‘But that was not the Lord’s will, and in His divine mystery He chose to take our son away, to spend the rest of his days with our saviour.’ The priest sprinkled holy water around the grave and, as the coffin was lowered into the ground, he began to intone, ‘May eternal rest be granted unto Danny, O Lord.’

  As the young choir softly chanted the ‘Nunc Dimittis’, Father Michael, Beth and the rest of the Cartwright family knelt by the graveside. Alex Redmayne along with several other mourners waited behind to pay their last respects. Alex bowed his head as if in prayer, and spoke a few words that neither Danny nor anyone else present could hear: ‘I will clear your name so that you may finally rest in peace.’

  Danny wasn’t allowed to move until the last mourners had departed, including Beth and Christy, who never once looked in his direction. When Pascoe finally turned to tell Moncrieff that they should leave, he found him in tears. Danny wanted to explain that his tears were shed not only for his dear friend Nick, but for the privilege of being one of those rare individuals who discover how much they are loved by those closest to them.

  36

  DANNY SPENT every spare moment reading and rereading Nick’s diaries, until he felt there was nothing left to know about the man.

  Big Al, who had served with Nick for five years before they were both court-martialled and sent to Belmarsh, was able to fill in several gaps, including how Danny should react if he ever bumped into an officer of the Cameron Highlanders, and he also taught him how to spot the regimental tie at thirty paces. They endlessly discussed the first thing Nick would have done the moment he was released.

  ‘He’d go straight up tae Scotland,’ said Big Al.

  ‘But all I’ll have is forty-five pounds and a rail voucher.’

  ‘Mr Munro will be able tae sort all that oot fur ye. Don’t forget that Nick said ye’d huv handled him far better than he did.’

  ‘If I’d been him.’

  ‘Ye ur him,’ said Big Al, ‘thanks to Louis and Nick, who between them huv done a brilliant job, so Munro shouldnae be too difficult. Just be sure that when he sees ye fur the first time—’

  ‘The second time.’

  ‘ – but he only saw Nick fur an hour, and he’ll be expecting tae see Sir Nicholas Moncrieff, not someone he’s never met before. The bigger problem will be whit tae dae efter that.’

  ‘I’ll come straight back to London,’ said Danny.

  ‘Then make sure ye keep away fae the East End.’

  ‘There are millions of Londoners who have never been to the East End,’ said Danny with some feeling. ‘And although I don’t know where The Boltons is, I’m pretty sure it’s west of Bow.’

  ‘So whit will ye dae wance yur back in London?’

  ‘After attending my own funeral and having to watch Beth suffer, I’m more determined than ever to ensure that she isn’t the only person who knows I didn’t kill her brother.’

  ‘Bit like that Frenchman ye told me aboot – whit’s his name?’

  ‘Edmond Dantès,’ said Danny. ‘And like him, I will not be satisfied until I have had revenge on the men whose deceit has ruined my life.’

  ‘Yur gonnae kill them aw?’

  ‘No, that would be too easy. They must suffer, to quote Dumas, a fate worse than death. I’ve had more than enough time to think how I’d go about it.’

  ‘Perhaps ye should add Leach tae that list,’ said Big Al.

  ‘Leach? Why should I bother with him?’

  ‘Because I think it wis Leach who killed Nick. I keep asking maself, why would he top hisself six weeks before he wis gonnae be released?’

  ‘But why would Leach kill Nick? If he had a quarrel with anyone, it was me.’

  ‘It was nae Nick he wis efter,’ said Big Al. ‘Don’t forget ye were wearing Nick’s silver chain, watch and ring while he wis in the shower.’

  ‘But that means—’

  ‘Leach killed the wrong man.’

  ‘But he can’t have wanted to kill me just because I asked him to return a library book.’

  ‘An ended up back in segregation.’

  ‘You think that would be enough to make him murder someone?’

  ‘Perhaps not,’ said Big Al. ‘But you cin be sure that Craig wouldnae’ve paid up fur the wrong tape. And I doubt if ye’re on Mr Hagen’s Christmas card list.’

  Danny tried not to think about the fact that he might have been unwittingly responsible for Nick’s death.

  ‘But don’t worry yersel, Nick. Once you’re oot ay here, a fate worse than death isnae whit I huv planned for Leach.’

  Spencer Craig didn’t need to look at the menu, because it was his favourite restaurant. The maitre d’ was used to seeing him accompanied by different women – sometimes two or three times in the same week.

  ‘Sorry I’m late,’ said Sarah as she sat down opposite him. ‘I was held up by a client.’

  ‘You work too hard,’ said Craig. ‘But then you always did.’

  ‘This particular client always makes an appointment for an hour and then expects me to clear my diary for the rest of the afternoon. I didn’t even have time to go home and change.’

  ‘I would never have guessed,’ said Craig. ‘In any case, I find white blouses, black skirts and black stockings quite irresistible.’

  ‘I see you’ve lost none of your charm,’ said Sarah, as she began to study the menu.