Hell Is Too Crowded - Jack Higgins [9]
Brady was genuinely shocked. "I'm sorry to hear that," he said awkwardly. "Your father was a good friend of mine."
"That's exactly what he said about you," she said. "I flew out as soon as word reached me of his accident. I was with him for two days before he died. He'd heard about your trouble. He told me you could never have done such a thing. That you must have been telling the truth. He said you once saved his life."
"It's nice to know that somebody believed me," Brady said.
She opened her purse and took out an oldfashioned silver watch and chain. She held it close to the gauze screen so that he could examine it. "He wanted you to have this. He asked me to see that you got it personally. I suppose I could give it to the governor to put with your other things."
He shook his head gently. "It's no use to me here. You keep it for me."
"Would you really like me to?" she said.
He nodded. "I might be out of this place sooner than you think, then you'll be able to give it to me personally."
She slipped the watch back into her purse and leaned forward. "But I understand they'd turned down your appeal?"
"Oh, I've got a few things working for me." He smiled, dismissing the subject. "Tell me about yourself? How did you know where to find me?"
"There was a bit in the newspapers when they moved you," she said. "I'm with a show playing Manningham Hippodrome this week. It seemed like a good opportunity. I telephoned the governor this morning and he said it would be all right."
"How's business?" he said.
She grimaced. "Terrible. We're supposed to be on a twelve-week run of the provinces, but I think we'll fold on Saturday night." She sighed. "I really thought I'd got a break this time. A good second lead and three solo spots, but that's show business for you."
"I'd give a hell of a lot to be sitting slap in the middle of the front row tonight when you come on," Brady said.
Her eyes crinkled at the corners and she smiled warmly. "And I'd give a lot to have you there, Mr. Brady. I think my father was right. Do you think they'll let me come and see you again before I leave Manningham?"
He shook his head. "I'm afraid not, but you could write."
"I'd like to do that," she said. "I'll let you have my London address."
The duty officer touched him on the shoulder and Brady stood up. For a moment she just stood there, looking at him through the gauze and it was as if she wanted to speak, but couldn't find the words. She turned abruptly and went out and he followed the duty officer down to the dining-hall, thinking about her all the way.
When they paused for a smoke back on the job that afternoon, Evans quizzed him about her. "Who was she, son? I hear she looked pretty good."
"Is there anything you don't hear?" Brady demanded.
Evans grinned. "If there is, it isn't worth knowing."
Before Brady could think of a suitable reply, the whistle blew signifying the end of work for the day and they packed up and started to descend the scaffolding.
There was a press of men jammed together on the narrow platform which spanned the scaffolding at the third storey. Brady was at the front and as he started to turn to go down the ladder backwards to the next level, a hand shoved him violently in the small of the back.
He went head first into space with a cry of fear and then someone grabbed at his denim jacket, jerking him to one side. His hands fastened over a length of scaffolding and he hung there for a moment before scrambling to safety under the rail.
The whole incident had taken place in a second and the majority of the men hadn't even noticed it. Brady leaned against the rail and wiped sweat from his face as Evans pushed through the crowd towards him. "I've never moved faster," he said.
"Did you see how it happened?" Brady asked.
Evans shook his head. "There was a hell of a push back there at the top of the ladder. Everyone was in such an all-fired hurry to get down."
"I guess I was lucky you were on hand," Brady told him.
But the thought stayed with him, the niggling doubt.