then he ran. It happened in London, just before midnight. He ran round the corner of Ladbroke Grovestraight into the arms of the State Security Police. He’s had bad luck all his life.”
“Were you in court?”
“My mother and I, both of us. My father died two years ago. We got Henry a lawyer—paid him too—but he wasn’t really interested. Took our money and did nothing. We could see that he agreed with the prosecution that Henry ought to be sent to the island. After all, it was an Omega he robbed. That counted against him. And, then, he’s black.”
Rolf said impatiently: “Don’t start all that crap about racial discrimination. It was the push that did it for him, not his colour. You can’t be sent to the Penal Colony except for a crime of violence against the person or for a second conviction for burglary. Henry had no convictions for burglary but two for theft.”
Miriam said: “Shoplifting. Nothing really bad. He stole a scarf for Mum’s birthday and a bar of chocolate. But that was when he was a kid. For God’s sake Rolf, he was twelve! It was over twenty years ago.”
Theo said: “If he knocked the victim down, he was guilty of a crime of violence whether or not he kicked her.”
“But he didn’t. He pushed her aside and she fell. It wasn’t deliberate.”
“The jury must have thought otherwise.”
“There wasn’t a jury. You know how difficult it is to get people to serve. They’re not interested. Won’t bother. He was tried under the new arrangements, a judge and two magistrates. They’ve got power to send people to the island. And it’s for life. There’s no remission, you never get out. A life sentence in that hell for one push which he didn’t mean. It killed my mother. Henry was her only son and she knew she’d never see him again. She just turned her face to the wall after that. But I’m glad she did die. At least she never knew the worst that happened to him.”
She looked at Theo and said simply: “You see, I did know. He came home.”
“You mean he escaped from the island? I thought that was impossible.”
“Henry did it. He found a broken dinghy, one that the security force had overlooked when they got the island ready for the convicts. Every boat which wasn’t worth taking away they burnt, but one was hidden or got overlooked, or perhaps they thought it was too damaged to be useful. Henry was always good with his hands. He repaired it in secretand he made two oars. Then, four weeks ago, January the third it was, he waited until it was dark and pushed off.”
“It was incredibly foolhardy.”
“No, it was sensible. He knew that he’d either make it or drown, and drowning was better than staying on that island. And he got home, he got back. I live—well, never mind where I live. It’s in a cottage on the edge of a village. He arrived after midnight. I’d had a heavy day at work and I meant to go to bed early. I was tired but restless, so I made myself a cup of tea when I got in and then I fell asleep in my chair. I only slept for about twenty minutes but when I awoke I found I wasn’t ready for bed. You know how it is. You get beyond tiredness. It’s almost too much of an effort to undress.
“It was a dark night, starless, and the wind was rising. Usually I like the sound of the wind when I’m snug at home, but that night it was different, not comforting, wailing and hissing in the chimney, menacing. I got the blues, the black dog on my shoulder, thinking of Mother dead and Henry lost for ever. I thought I’d better shake myself out of it and get up to bed. And then I heard the knocking on the door. There is a bell but he didn’t use that. He just used the knocker twice, and feebly, but I heard. I went to the peep-hole but I could see nothing, only blackness. It was after midnight now and I couldn’t think who could be calling and so late. But I put on the chain and opened the door. There was a dark shape, collapsed against the wall. He had only the
“Were you in court?”
“My mother and I, both of us. My father died two years ago. We got Henry a lawyer—paid him too—but he wasn’t really interested. Took our money and did nothing. We could see that he agreed with the prosecution that Henry ought to be sent to the island. After all, it was an Omega he robbed. That counted against him. And, then, he’s black.”
Rolf said impatiently: “Don’t start all that crap about racial discrimination. It was the push that did it for him, not his colour. You can’t be sent to the Penal Colony except for a crime of violence against the person or for a second conviction for burglary. Henry had no convictions for burglary but two for theft.”
Miriam said: “Shoplifting. Nothing really bad. He stole a scarf for Mum’s birthday and a bar of chocolate. But that was when he was a kid. For God’s sake Rolf, he was twelve! It was over twenty years ago.”
Theo said: “If he knocked the victim down, he was guilty of a crime of violence whether or not he kicked her.”
“But he didn’t. He pushed her aside and she fell. It wasn’t deliberate.”
“The jury must have thought otherwise.”
“There wasn’t a jury. You know how difficult it is to get people to serve. They’re not interested. Won’t bother. He was tried under the new arrangements, a judge and two magistrates. They’ve got power to send people to the island. And it’s for life. There’s no remission, you never get out. A life sentence in that hell for one push which he didn’t mean. It killed my mother. Henry was her only son and she knew she’d never see him again. She just turned her face to the wall after that. But I’m glad she did die. At least she never knew the worst that happened to him.”
She looked at Theo and said simply: “You see, I did know. He came home.”
“You mean he escaped from the island? I thought that was impossible.”
“Henry did it. He found a broken dinghy, one that the security force had overlooked when they got the island ready for the convicts. Every boat which wasn’t worth taking away they burnt, but one was hidden or got overlooked, or perhaps they thought it was too damaged to be useful. Henry was always good with his hands. He repaired it in secretand he made two oars. Then, four weeks ago, January the third it was, he waited until it was dark and pushed off.”
“It was incredibly foolhardy.”
“No, it was sensible. He knew that he’d either make it or drown, and drowning was better than staying on that island. And he got home, he got back. I live—well, never mind where I live. It’s in a cottage on the edge of a village. He arrived after midnight. I’d had a heavy day at work and I meant to go to bed early. I was tired but restless, so I made myself a cup of tea when I got in and then I fell asleep in my chair. I only slept for about twenty minutes but when I awoke I found I wasn’t ready for bed. You know how it is. You get beyond tiredness. It’s almost too much of an effort to undress.
“It was a dark night, starless, and the wind was rising. Usually I like the sound of the wind when I’m snug at home, but that night it was different, not comforting, wailing and hissing in the chimney, menacing. I got the blues, the black dog on my shoulder, thinking of Mother dead and Henry lost for ever. I thought I’d better shake myself out of it and get up to bed. And then I heard the knocking on the door. There is a bell but he didn’t use that. He just used the knocker twice, and feebly, but I heard. I went to the peep-hole but I could see nothing, only blackness. It was after midnight now and I couldn’t think who could be calling and so late. But I put on the chain and opened the door. There was a dark shape, collapsed against the wall. He had only the
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