Johnny Swanson - Eleanor Updale [44]
‘I didn’t know you were there,’ he said gruffly. ‘You should have rung the bell.’
Johnny was about to say that he had rung, but then he thought it might sound like answering back, and he could sense that the policeman wouldn’t like that.
‘What do you want?’ asked the policeman, angrily picking up the bread, which had fallen jam-side down.
‘I’d like to see my mother, please.’
‘And who might she be?’
‘Winifred Swanson,’ said Johnny. ‘She’s helping the police with their enquiries.’
At the sound of Winnie’s name, the policeman drew himself upright and adopted a more formal tone. ‘Mrs Swanson is here, yes. But I’m afraid you can’t see her. We don’t let children in to see the prisoners. This isn’t a playground. Only adult relatives or legal representatives.’
‘But she hasn’t got any adult relatives.’
‘Don’t be silly, boy. Everyone’s got adult relatives.’
‘But …’ Once again Johnny got the silent message that arguing would only make things worse. He tried asking a question instead. ‘When will she be coming home?’
‘Not for some time, I should think, son. Though it’s not my place to say. Your mother is in a great deal of trouble. Murder is a capital offence.’
A capital offence. Johnny knew what that meant, but hearing the policeman say the words made him admit to himself, for the first time, that there was a chance that Winnie would be put to death. A capital offence meant the gallows. Murderers were hanged. In all the agony of last night, Johnny had never imagined that he might lose his mother for ever. He was suddenly drenched in sweat. There was a rush of sickly acid from his stomach to his throat. Surely, now that the police had talked to Winnie all night – now that they could see how quiet and gentle she was, and she’d had a chance to explain everything – surely they couldn’t believe that she was guilty? And yet this policeman seemed to think it was possible. It was all a dreadful mistake. Johnny tried to say so, but the officer silenced him.
‘Now be on your way. I’m a busy man.’
‘Please would you tell her that I came? Tell her Johnny was here?’
‘Do I look as if I have time to pass on messages?’
Johnny stopped himself saying yes. ‘But if she asks …’
He had gone too far. The policeman had had enough, and wanted to get back to his breakfast.
‘Look, son. I’ve got work to do. And you should be getting off to school, shouldn’t you?’
‘But …’ It was no good. ‘Please give her my love,’ Johnny called as he went back through the swing doors. He ran to the shop in tears, imagining his mother alone in a cell, facing the death penalty.
Hutch returned looking ashen, and mumbling swear words under his breath. ‘You’re going to have to be careful, Johnny,’ he said. ‘There are people out there who have decided your mother is guilty before she’s even been charged. I don’t dare repeat some of the things I’ve heard this morning.’
‘She didn’t do it, Hutch.’
‘I know, son. I’m sure she can’t have done. But the police seem to think they have enough evidence against her. They’re not looking for anyone else. If we knew as much as the police, perhaps we could prove that they should.’
‘How can we find out?’
‘Well, if your mother could afford a fancy lawyer, he’d check everything. But I know there’s no money for that. It looks as if it’s down to you and me, son.’
Someone was tapping on the shop door.
Hutch shouted, ‘We’re not open till nine o’clock,’ without looking up. The knocking continued. It was the reporter again, signalling with fancy hand gestures that he wanted to use the phone.
‘I’d better let him in,’ said Hutch. ‘And anyway, he might have some new information. You go and sit in the stockroom. I don’t want him to know you’re here.’
Hutch tried to get on the right side of the reporter as soon as he opened the door. ‘Sorry, I didn’t realize it was you,’ he said. ‘You’re up early.’
‘I’ve got to move fast on this one,’ said the reporter. ‘I want to get everything I can into the early edition. If they charge her, we won’t be able to print much until