A Glimpse at Happiness (51 page)
‘Don’t you understand? It’s my fault Ma’s dead,’ Harry snivelled.
Ollie shook his head. ‘Look, you’re not to blame. I tell you, Harry, no muvver had a better son, than you.’
Harry forced a smile. ‘Do you think so?’
‘I do. Honest, mate. If anyone’s to blame for your ma it’s that bastard Nolan, devil take him. If he’d been straight and honest and taken her booty upstream as he’d agreed, instead of ratting to the coppers, none of this would have happened. Things would have worked out fine if he hadn’t crossed her. If you want to blame anyone, he’s your man, and now that Plant’s in custody, Nolan’s going to get off clean as a whistle when he comes up in front of the judge next week.’
Harry blinked his eyes a couple of times as Ollie’s words sank in. ‘You’re right. It’s all that bastard’s fault.’ An image of Patrick and Josie laughing and dancing at a wedding rose up in Harry’s mind. ‘Him and that swanky woman of his. It was her who broke in to Burr Street. If she hadn’t poked her nose in where she had no business, me ma would never have fallen down the stairs.’
‘That’s right, Harry.’ Ollie slapped him on the back heartily. ‘See, they did it, both of them. So don’t go on there blaming yourself because there weren’t nuffink you could have done.’
A weight lifted from Harry’s back. Ollie was right. He shoved the table away and staggered to his feet. He raised the gun and shook it above his head. A woman screamed and men backed away.
‘It was Nolan and that fecking doxy of his.’ He stumbled back and crashed into the table behind and those sitting around it darted away. A bottle smashed under his feet as people screamed and dived for cover.
He ran his hands over the smooth barrels of the pistol. ‘He thinks he’s got the better of us, Ma,’ he said cocking and un-cocking the hammers. ‘But don’t you worry none. I’ll make sure Nolan
and
his woman pays!’
and
his woman pays!’
Chapter Thirty
There wasn’t a bone in Patrick’s body that didn’t ache after the mile or so’s journey from Pentonville to the Old Bailey. As he was on remand and still presumed innocent, Patrick had tried to get permission for his mother to visit again. This had been denied, leaving him without any hope of relief from his dread of what had happened to Annie and Mickey and of course, Josie.
Therefore, unlike his travelling companions, Patrick was eager to get to London’s central criminal court because he would get the last glimpse of the woman he had loved for such a very long time and, please God and all his saints above, she would tell him that Annie and Mickey were safe.
The carriage juddered to a stop and Patrick looked towards the back door as it swung open and one of the two wardens flanking the door waved them out with his truncheon. All six of them stood in line to avoid the drag on the chains that bound them, and then marched into the back door of England’s foremost court.
Patrick was unchained from his fellow prisoners, squeezed between two court officers, and marched along the short corridor up to the dock.
His gaze shot to the public gallery and his eyes raced along the crowd of men and women crammed into the small space at the back of the court.
She wasn’t there!
He looked again and bitter disappointment rose up in him, soon replaced by a feeling of powerlessness.
Oh, my God, what had happened to her?
Was she ill? Had Ma Tugman taken her too? Had she been attacked by Harry again and injured or was she . . . ?
He had to stay calm. Any moment now he would be called to give his testimony. He had to keep a clear mind if he had any hope of convincing the court of his story about Sergeant Plant. He had, at the very least, to throw enough doubt on the whole incident to sway the jury.
He glanced across at the twelve good men squashed together in the benches to the side of the judge and his heart sank. They stared across the well of the court at him with tight-lipped disapproval. The judge pounded his gavel on the bench and the room fell silent. Patrick took a deep breath and turned his attentions to the man behind the bench.
Then he rose to his feet and faced the judge. The clerk of the court read aloud the same charges that the magistrate’s official had read two weeks before.
The judge chewed on his gums for a moment then looked down his nose at Patrick. ‘How do you plead?’ he asked, crisply.
Mr Vaneweather, the thin lawyer with the worn cuffs the boatmen had engaged on Patrick’s behalf, jumped to his feet. ‘Mr Nolan pleads not guilty,’ he said, in a strident tone at odds with his insubstantial frame.
The judge’s lower jaw ruminated again. ‘Very well,’ he said at length. ‘Mr Gilchrist, let us hear the evidence in the case.’
Mr Gilchrist, a sallow, paunchy individual, stood and flourished the papers in his hand.
‘My lord, members of the jury,’ he said, inclining his head towards the bewigged judge and then the jury. ‘This is a most distressing case. I am afraid the heinous crimes of this man,’ he jabbed his finger towards Patrick, ‘will shock you as I lead you through the dishonesty, the duplicity, nay, the very immorality of his actions. I will—’
The door at the back of the public gallery burst open and the men and women in front of it muttered loudly as they shuffled to one side to allow the latecomers in. A door at the back of the main court also banged open and several police officers marched to the front of the court but Patrick’s eyes were fixed on only one thing: Josie.
Joy flooded over him and he suppressed the urge to laugh aloud at the sight of her pushing her way to the front.
She was wearing her best dress, with her bright Indian shawl over her shoulders and her bonnet on the back of her head. Worryingly, she had her left arm in a sling and, judging by the small grimace that flickered over her face when she moved it, it caused her some degree of pain.
His eyes ran over her as if he’d never seen her before, noting the sparkling brightness of her green eyes and the pleasing sweep of her cheekbones. An escaped curl had tucked itself around her ear and Patrick remembered how he had woven his fingers through those lovely locks as they streamed over his pillow.
The hubbub of the court faded, as his eyes locked with hers. She smiled across at him and nodded.
Oh, praise the Lord, Annie and Mickey were safe
.
.
Then Patrick noticed who stood behind her: could it really be Dr Munroe? He could hardly believe it, but it
was
her father who stood there behind her, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders.
was
her father who stood there behind her, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders.
The two men stared at each other across the courtroom and Josie’s father inclined his head slightly. Patrick acknowledged it with a cautious nod.
The gavel silenced the court and Patrick forced his attention back to the court proceedings.
The officer, who had just arrived, was arguing with Mr Gilchrist. Patrick stared, and hope flared inside him as he recognised Superintendent Jackson.
The prosecuting lawyer shot Jackson a furious look and then approached the judge’s bench. Superintendent Jackson sat back and crossed one leg over the other while Gilchrist and the judge spoke.
‘Well, this is all very irregular,’ the judge said after a moment. ‘You had better explain.’
Jackson unfolded his legs and rose. ‘It is a grave miscarriage of justice for Mr Nolan to be charged with the crimes laid against him. Motivated by his desire to rid the riverside area of criminal elements, Patrick Nolan came forward and offered information and his help to assist my officers to put an end to a ruthless criminal gang led by a Mrs Tugman, aided and abetted by her two degenerate sons. After a plan to trap Mrs Tugman’s gang was formulated between Mr Nolan and myself, Mr Nolan, at great personal risk to himself and his family I might say, began to set the plan in place. On the twenty-third of September last, when he visited Arbour Square police office to inform me of the time and place so that my officers could apprehend the villains in full possession of their ill-gotten gains.’ Jackson’s face grew dark. ‘Unfortunately, I was not on duty that night so Mr Nolan spoke to another officer. I am ashamed to tell the court, but that officer, a Sergeant Plant, was in Mrs Tugman’s pay and told her of the plan. She then set about secreting stolen items, notably some of the Pettit silver, from the Bedford Park robbery on Mr Nolan’s boat and kidnapped his children to force him to take his boat up river to the Horse Ferry Landing at Westminster that same day. Plant informed the constabulary at St Anne’s Gate police office, who duly arrested Mr Nolan.’ Jackson turned and looked at Patrick. ‘It is only now by the courageous actions of Miss Josephine O’Casey that all the real evidence in this case has come to light.’
Patrick’s gaze rested on Josie.
God, how he loved her!
God, how he loved her!
Mr Vaneweather sprang to his feet. ‘I move that all charges against Mr Nolan be dropped and that he be released at once!’ he demanded.
From the lofty height of his bench the judge looked down. ‘Mr Gilchrist?’
The stout barrister at the other end of the polished oak table ground his teeth for a second, then grabbed the side of his black gown and puffed out his chest.
‘I have no further evidence to offer the court,’ he said, with as much good grace as he could muster.
Josie’s heart fluttered and her stomach turned over and over as she stood in the entrance hall of the Old Bailey, her eyes glued to the oak door that led to court number one. Beside her Annie and Mickey could hardly stop from jumping on the spot and Sarah hadn’t stopped crying since Josie and her father had come out of the public gallery and told her that the case against Patrick had been dismissed. Even Gus, who’d accompanied his mother to court, turned and quickly wiped his eyes when he heard the news. Ellen sat with her old friend on the bench while she dabbed her eyes, while Robert and Superintendent Jackson shared a joke over by the staircase.
‘Mam, how much longer?’ Mickey asked for the tenth time in as many minutes.
‘I’m afraid, Master Nolan, there are procedures to be followed, ’ Superintendent Jackson said, as he and Robert came over to join them. ‘They can’t just take your father’s chains off and let him stroll out. English Law works slowly, and with attention to detail, so your father has to be recorded, logged and signed for.’ Superintendent Jackson leant down closer to the boy until they were almost nose to nose, and added, ‘In triplicate.’
Mickey pulled a face. ‘Well, I think it’s daft,’ he announced.
Superintendent Jackson and Josie’s father laughed.
‘You want to be
very
glad that it does, young Mickey,’ Robert said, ‘because it was Sergeant Plant’s recorded, logged and signed for pocket book that proved your father’s innocence.’
very
glad that it does, young Mickey,’ Robert said, ‘because it was Sergeant Plant’s recorded, logged and signed for pocket book that proved your father’s innocence.’
‘That, and Miss O’Casey’s bravery in rescuing you two and discovering the Bedford silver,’ added Superintendent Jackson. He glanced at Robert. ‘You should have heard the ruckus she made in the police station to make them fetch me.’
Robert’s face creased into a smile. ‘I don’t have to; I’ve lived with her for twelve years.’
‘Mam was very brave,’ Annie said, as she squeezed Josie’s hand.
‘Aye,’ Robert replied in a softer tone. He put his arm around Josie’s shoulders, avoiding the still tender wound, and kissed her lightly on the forehead.
Josie swallowed. Despite the difficulties of her choice that living out of wedlock with Patrick posed for Robert, he had worked tirelessly, pulling all the strings he had over the last week to try and have the charges against Patrick withdrawn and get him released, but due process of the law had to be observed. She only hoped that any gossip about her living in sin with a married man wouldn’t revive the old scandal about Robert’s marriage to her mother.
But that was for the future, and she couldn’t dwell on that now because every part of her longed for the moment she would be in Patrick’s arms again.
The door opened and Patrick stepped out into the open space. Josie’s eyes ran over him. He was dressed in the same clothes she had waved him goodbye in three weeks ago. Although he was clean shaven and his hair had seen a comb sometime that morning, it was over-long and in need of a wash. But, even so, Josie had never seen him look finer.
Annie and Mickey let go of her hands and, dodging through the black-gowned barristers and the less well-heeled plaintiffs and witnesses, they dashed across the floor and threw themselves at their father. Sarah rose from the bench and joined her grandchildren.
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