alongside fellow prisoners. He already looked a broken man after just one night in a police station. A prison sentence would surely kill him.
I prayed for a miracle to happen. Perhaps the people in the court would see that Father was a gentleman and a scholar and decide to let him off with a warning, provided he paid the money back.
I
would certainly do such a thing. Surely they might have equal compassion . . . They must realize that Father wasn’t a true criminal, even though he had committed a criminal act. He hadn’t been thinking straight. He was exhausted and despairing, simply trying to make his family happy. He probably wrote the wretched cheque in a moment’s madness, scarcely realizing what he was doing.
I was acting like my father’s defence lawyer as I paced the pavement, convincing myself until I was ready to declare Father entirely innocent. Indeed, I found myself muttering, ‘
Innocent, innocent, innocent
,’ so that passers-by glanced at me nervously and hurried on. Then, suddenly, a hand grasped my shoulder, and a voice gasped, ‘Cassie! Oh, Cassie!’
It was Mother, dressed in her Sunday best, though her old fox-fur stole was thrown on askew. The sad little fox’s head nudged her neck as if about to take a tentative bite.
I stared at her and she stared at me, her face contorting. ‘Opal?’ she said. ‘What are you doing here – and in your sister’s clothes?’
‘I wanted to see Father in court, but they won’t let me in,’ I said.
‘They’ll let
me
in,’ said Mother.
‘Oh yes, please go!’ I said. ‘Oh, Mother, I’m so glad you came.’
‘Of course I had to come,’ she said. ‘I have to find out what’s going to happen.’ She reached out and squeezed my hand. ‘Let us both take courage.’
Then she went up the steps to the doors, and I saw that in her haste she was still wearing her old felt slippers with worn-down heels. Yet somehow she still managed to cut a dignified figure, draggled fox fur and all.
Mother was inside all morning. At one o’clock she came out with a little group of people, and I seized hold of her to hear the news.
‘The court is adjourned for lunch. Your father’s case hasn’t even been heard yet,’ she said.
She took me to a little eating house round the corner, and with the few coins in her purse bought us cups of tea and a meat pie to share. I was starving hungry, but as soon as I took a mouthful of hot fatty meat I felt my stomach turn over. I had to beg the woman behind the counter for permission to use her facilities. I rushed out the back to an unpleasant privy and was very sick. I returned so white and shaky that the woman took pity on me, and gave me another cup of tea and a slice of dry toast on the house. I managed to keep the toast down, and Mother spooned several sugars into my tea to give me extra energy.
‘You should go home now, Opal. There’s no point hanging about outside the court. I’ll come straight back when I have news,’ she said.
But I couldn’t go home. I kept my lonely vigil by the wall all afternoon. At last Mother came out, looking very pale.
‘They didn’t let him go?’ I asked desperately.
‘No, he’s been remanded. I asked the policeman where they were taking him, and it’s at Whitechurch – miles and miles away,’ she said.
‘How long will he be there?’
‘It could be months,’ Mother said hopelessly. ‘And he hasn’t a chance of getting off because he’s still pleading guilty. And another thing – all the money in his account is being frozen. I checked at the bank before coming here. We are destitute, Opal. I have been driving myself demented all day long, trying to work out what to do.’ She looked at me, and a little of her animosity crept back. ‘You think you’re so clever, Opal. Do
you
have any suggestions?’
I shook my head, so worn out and despairing that I couldn’t stop the tears trickling down my cheeks.
‘Now, now, aren’t we both done with crying?’ Mother
I prayed for a miracle to happen. Perhaps the people in the court would see that Father was a gentleman and a scholar and decide to let him off with a warning, provided he paid the money back.
I
would certainly do such a thing. Surely they might have equal compassion . . . They must realize that Father wasn’t a true criminal, even though he had committed a criminal act. He hadn’t been thinking straight. He was exhausted and despairing, simply trying to make his family happy. He probably wrote the wretched cheque in a moment’s madness, scarcely realizing what he was doing.
I was acting like my father’s defence lawyer as I paced the pavement, convincing myself until I was ready to declare Father entirely innocent. Indeed, I found myself muttering, ‘
Innocent, innocent, innocent
,’ so that passers-by glanced at me nervously and hurried on. Then, suddenly, a hand grasped my shoulder, and a voice gasped, ‘Cassie! Oh, Cassie!’
It was Mother, dressed in her Sunday best, though her old fox-fur stole was thrown on askew. The sad little fox’s head nudged her neck as if about to take a tentative bite.
I stared at her and she stared at me, her face contorting. ‘Opal?’ she said. ‘What are you doing here – and in your sister’s clothes?’
‘I wanted to see Father in court, but they won’t let me in,’ I said.
‘They’ll let
me
in,’ said Mother.
‘Oh yes, please go!’ I said. ‘Oh, Mother, I’m so glad you came.’
‘Of course I had to come,’ she said. ‘I have to find out what’s going to happen.’ She reached out and squeezed my hand. ‘Let us both take courage.’
Then she went up the steps to the doors, and I saw that in her haste she was still wearing her old felt slippers with worn-down heels. Yet somehow she still managed to cut a dignified figure, draggled fox fur and all.
Mother was inside all morning. At one o’clock she came out with a little group of people, and I seized hold of her to hear the news.
‘The court is adjourned for lunch. Your father’s case hasn’t even been heard yet,’ she said.
She took me to a little eating house round the corner, and with the few coins in her purse bought us cups of tea and a meat pie to share. I was starving hungry, but as soon as I took a mouthful of hot fatty meat I felt my stomach turn over. I had to beg the woman behind the counter for permission to use her facilities. I rushed out the back to an unpleasant privy and was very sick. I returned so white and shaky that the woman took pity on me, and gave me another cup of tea and a slice of dry toast on the house. I managed to keep the toast down, and Mother spooned several sugars into my tea to give me extra energy.
‘You should go home now, Opal. There’s no point hanging about outside the court. I’ll come straight back when I have news,’ she said.
But I couldn’t go home. I kept my lonely vigil by the wall all afternoon. At last Mother came out, looking very pale.
‘They didn’t let him go?’ I asked desperately.
‘No, he’s been remanded. I asked the policeman where they were taking him, and it’s at Whitechurch – miles and miles away,’ she said.
‘How long will he be there?’
‘It could be months,’ Mother said hopelessly. ‘And he hasn’t a chance of getting off because he’s still pleading guilty. And another thing – all the money in his account is being frozen. I checked at the bank before coming here. We are destitute, Opal. I have been driving myself demented all day long, trying to work out what to do.’ She looked at me, and a little of her animosity crept back. ‘You think you’re so clever, Opal. Do
you
have any suggestions?’
I shook my head, so worn out and despairing that I couldn’t stop the tears trickling down my cheeks.
‘Now, now, aren’t we both done with crying?’ Mother
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