by Freer, Echo;
‘Too late for that, Barty, my old china. You are in this up to your mince pies - in fact some people might say you’re already six feet under with it,’ Archie replied, his eyes firmly fixed on Modesty walking slowly towards him.
Modesty stopped about twenty metres from the gang. ‘Good morning, Mr Peggitt; Mr Bigg. I’ve got the diamond, so let my sister go please.’ She took Gemma’s handkerchief out of the pocket of her parka, unwrapped the diamond and held it up so that the sunlight sparkled on it and glinted around the alley. Carefully, she laid out the hankie on the concrete path before standing up again and addressing them. ‘As soon as you release my sister, I’m going to place the diamond on this hankie and then we’ll go and you can come and collect it, OK?’
Archie gave a chuckle. ‘ ‘Fraid it don’t work like that, darlin’. You see, ‘ow do we know that you ain’t tryin’ to fob us off with a lump of pink glass? I want to see the stone first.’
Modesty was nonplussed. In her mind, the scenario had been simple: she’d put down the diamond, they’d release Grace, she and Grace would walk out of the alley as the police walked in and arrested the gang. She hesitated.
‘But how do I know that you’ll release my sister once you’ve got the diamond?’
Now it was Archie’s turn to look nonplussed.
‘Trust,’ Bartholomew Peggitt called. ‘You’ll just have to trust us.’
Grace gave a muffled squeal from beneath Cynthia’s pink scarf and shook her head violently.
Harley Spinks stepped forward and prodded Grace in the arm. ‘Put a sock in it.’
‘ ‘Ow’s she gonna do that, ‘Arl darl?’ Mickey queried. ‘She’s already got a scarf in it, babe.’
‘Leave her alone!’ Modesty ordered, seeing the terror in her sister’s eyes. Then, addressing the two men, she spoke in a more level tone. ‘How do I know I can trust you when you won’t trust me?’
The men looked at each other, then Councillor Peggitt spoke, his voice like crude oil. ‘Well, my dear, you don’t - any more than we know that we can trust you when you don’t trust us.’
Modesty gnawed on her bottom lip. They seemed to have reached an impasse.
‘Very well,’ she conceded, ignoring the frown on her sister’s forehead. ‘You can examine the diamond but then you let her go, all right?’
Modesty walked slowly forward, holding the diamond out in front of her as she did so. When she was within an arm’s distance of the two men, she stopped.
‘There you are,’ she said, holding the diamond up so that they could get a good look at it.
‘I’ll need to examine it more closely,’ Bartholomew Peggitt said slimily.
Suddenly he reached out his hand and grabbed Modesty by the arm, twisting it round and snatching the diamond from her hand.
Modesty let out a scream. Grace groaned.
Oz ran out from behind the corner where he’d been watching the entire episode.
‘Take your hands off her!’ he cried, rushing forward.
Mickey Bigg ran towards him. ‘What the ‘ell do you want, you little runt? Clear off. We don’t want you round ‘ere, Toss-car!’
Archie Bigg looked startled. ‘Oscar?’ The colour drained from his cheeks and he loosened his clutch on Grace.
Modesty saw Archie let go of her sister and brought down her elbow into Bartholomew Peggitt’s ribs. He doubled up, releasing his grip on her arm, and she grabbed Grace.
‘Run!’ she cried, pulling the younger girl away from her captor and dragging her towards Oz.
The instant both girls were free, a loudhailer sounded down the narrow passage. ‘This is the police. Do not move.’
As a dozen uniformed officers moved in from either end of the passage, Modesty, Grace and Oz retreated back to behind the corner to observe the arrest in safety. But as they watched, they saw Harley Spinks land a DM across the shin of a WPC, knocking her off balance and sending the poor woman sprawling across the concrete.
‘Assaulting a police officer!’ a young policeman called as he rushed towards her.
‘Gerroff me!’ they heard her bellow as she lashed out, arms and legs flailing like a disjointed helicopter.
At the other side of the white van, Councillor Peggitt was standing very upright with his hands cuffed behind his back. ‘You haven’t heard the end of this,’ he shouted. ‘I play golf with your Chief Superintendent. I’ll make sure you never rise from the rank of constable as long as...’ His voice trailed away as he was bundled into the back of a police van.
Above all the noise Cynthia’s high-pitched whimpering echoed along the passage. She was wandering about in a trancelike state, arms outstretched with her wrists together, pleading for someone to put handcuffs on her. And while Cynthia seemed desperate to be arrested, her best friend had sent another young officer reeling in pain after a well- aimed kick to a very sensitive part of his body.
‘Mickey!’ Harley screeched. ‘Where the ‘ell are you? Call yourself a bleedin’ boyfriend!’
At that Mickey appeared from inside Peggitt’s garage, looking pale and terrified.
‘ ‘Ere I am, ‘Arl darl...’ He skulked forward half- heartedly to her rescue.
But Harley was taking on allcomers: a fist to the chin of one officer to her left, a boot to the thigh of another to her right. As Mickey approached her from behind she mistook him for another officer and swung round, landing a left hook to his jaw. He was propelled backwards a couple of metres, eyes momentarily wide with shock before closing in oblivion.
‘Flamin’ ‘ell, Mickey!’ Harley cried furiously. ‘Can’t you do nuffink right?’
Cynthia stopped wailing. She stood very still, looking from her best friend to her unconscious brother, then walked calmly over to Harley and slapped her across the face. Harley couldn’t move; incredulity paralysed every muscle of her body.
‘I’m goin’ to get in the police car now,’ Cynthia said calmly. ‘Goodbye, ‘Arley.’
Harley was in a catatonic state, unable to believe that her best friend and boyfriend could both betray her within seconds. Taking advantage of her shock and immobility, several police officers limped, crawled or shuffled towards her. One man took out his handcuffs and, still holding a wad of tissue to a bloody nose, flipped them on to one of Harley’s wrists before handing the other side to a young woman (whose shoulder was hanging at a strange angle) to finish the job.
Modesty turned to Oz and let out a deep sigh. ‘Thank you,’ she said, kissing him.
Oz wrapped her in his arms, gently soothing her as he drew her to his chest.
‘Er, hello!’ Grace interrupted. ‘Don’t you think I deserve a little sisterly comfort after my ordeal?’
Modesty pulled one arm away from Oz and wrapped it round her sister so that the three of them embraced.
Grace pulled away slightly, looked at Modesty and cocked her head on one side. ‘I never thought I’d say this, but you’re kinda cool, you know?’
Modesty nodded and smiled. ‘You’re not so bad yourself.’
‘I’ll second that on both counts,’ Oz laughed and the three of them hugged again.
But their relief was premature. Archie Bigg’s voice was alarmingly close. ‘Oscar!’
In the commotion, Archie had managed to sneak, unobserved, round the back of the garages. He was walking towards Modesty and Oz with his arms outstretched.
Another officer, holding a loudhailer with one hand and clutching badly bruised ribs with the other, called out again. ‘I repeat - this is the police. Stay exactly where you are.’
But Archie took no notice. He was almost upon them when he reached into his inside pocket.
‘Get down!’ Modesty cried, pushing Oz back towards the alley and safety.
‘Put your hands in the air and don’t move!’ shouted the police officer.
>
‘Oscar!’ Archie cried, pulling nothing more lethal than a large white handkerchief from his pocket. He wiped away the tears that were streaming down his cheeks and a WPC ran forward, taking the opportunity to slap handcuffs around his wrists.
Modesty shook her head. ‘Phew! That was close.’ She looked at Oz, puzzled. ‘Whatever your mum’s done to offend him, he’s well out of the way now.’
They watched as Archie stepped up to sit with the others in the police van, then he turned and gave them one last look, tears still pouring down his face.
‘Oscar!’ he called. ‘My son!’
Fourteen
Ten months later
Modesty squeezed Oz’s hand tightly. She wriggled nervously on the hard plastic chair as they waited. The sound of muted mutterings from other visitors echoed round the stark interior and she turned, relieved to see him offer her an encouraging smile. Even though it was sweltering outside, the grim grey walls of the visitors’ room sent a chill down her spine.
Suddenly a door at the other end of the large room opened. Two prison warders entered, followed by several men in jeans and pale blue shirts. Archie Bigg grinned and raised his hand in recognition.
Modesty felt herself stiffen slightly as Archie took his seat at the other side of the plain Formica-topped table.
‘Hi...’ Oz paused, still unused to the epithet he was about to use, ‘...Dad.’
‘Orright, son!’ Archie beamed. Then, looking shamefaced in Modesty’s direction, he said, ‘Good of you to come, darlin’. I told Oscar, ‘ere, ‘ow as I wanted to set things straight with you face to face like.’
Modesty nodded. ‘I appreciate that, Mr Bigg, but it’s water under the bridge now.’
Archie’s face was serious. ‘I know that, darlin’, but there’s things what need to be said.’ He took a deep breath and looked Modesty straight in the eye. ‘I want you to know, sweetheart, that it weren’t my idea to kidnap your sister - things just got out of ‘and. I done a lot of bad things in my life but kidnapping kids ain’t me.’
‘I’ve explained everything to Modesty, Dad.’ Oz stretched out his hand to comfort his father but a prison warder moved swiftly in his direction.
‘No contact, Bigg!’
‘Sorry, Mr Burke, sir. Won’t ‘appen again,’ Archie apologised. Turning back to Modesty and Oz, he whispered, ‘Poor geezer, name like Burke working in a place like this - don’t stand a chance, do ‘e?’
Modesty felt herself relax. ‘Grace is fine,’ she reassured him. ‘In fact, she’s still dining out on her experience - done interviews in magazines and everything. She was even on television just after it happened.’
Archie gave a nod of satisfaction. ‘Pleased to ‘ear it, darlin’. She’s a nice kid. And what about the gel whose dad died, d’you still keep in touch?’
‘Oh yes,’ Modesty replied. ‘She’s doing brilliantly. She’s running the business herself and has moved away from the more traditional stuff her dad used to do. She’s specialising in really trendy jewellery now. And do you remember her friend who was staying with her, from the trial?’
‘I do, darlin’, I do.’ Archie frowned. ‘The one what gave my Mickey a rough time with a rake, if I remember right.’
Modesty raised her eyebrows. ‘Well, he was trying to break into their house,’ she pointed out.
Archie grimaced. ‘Point taken, darlin’. Carry on.’
‘Anyway, she’s gone to college to study jewellery design and they’re going to go into business together.’
‘Good for the pair of them.’ Archie sat back on his chair and smiled.
Oz leaned forward and spoke earnestly. ‘How is Mickey, Dad? I’ve written to him a few times but he doesn’t write back.’
Archie shook his head sadly. ‘Mickey ain’t big on writin’, son. It ain’t nothing personal.’ Then he hesitated and screwed up his nose. ‘All right - the truth is, with you it is personal.’
Oz sighed. ‘So what can I do? I’ve always wanted brothers and sisters - and now I find I’ve got them, Mickey doesn’t want to know.’
Archie shrugged. ‘Ain’t nothing you can do, son.’ He leaned forwards and opened his hands. ‘You see, I didn’t even know you existed till you was eleven years old. By that time Mickey was fourteen an’ it come as a shock to the lad to suddenly find out ‘e got a brother. It did ‘is ‘ead in. Jealousy don’t even come near to ‘ow my poor Mickey felt. ‘E got this idea in ‘is ‘ead that if you come on the scene, ‘e wouldn’t get to see ‘is old man so much.’ Archie raised his eyes in an ironic gesture. ‘What ‘e didn’t realise is that it weren’t ‘aving a brother what meant ‘e sees less of me, it was ‘aving a criminally insane girlfriend!’
Modesty intervened. ‘Are they still together?’ Archie shook his head. ‘No, thank Gawd! Like I said, my Mickey ain’t big on writing an’ being in different young offenders’ units, it died a death.’ A look of pride spread across his face. ‘With good behaviour Mickey should be out by Christmas, all being well.’
‘And what about Harley?’ Modesty asked.
‘Neh! That gel wouldn’t know good behaviour if it come up and offered ‘er parole gift-wrapped with silver bows on! Chip off the old proverbial, that one.’
‘Cynthia wrote to me, though,’ Oz said, pulling a blue airmail letter from his pocket. ‘Shall I read it to you?’
Archie folded his arms and sat back against the chair. ‘Go on then, son. I ain’t ‘eard from Cynth since she went out to live with ‘er mum.’
Oz cleared his throat. ‘Dear Oscar,’ he read. ‘Thank you for writing to me. I am enjoying Florida very much. I go to a really nice school here and I have made some really nice friends. We go down the mall most days together. My mum’s house has a swimming pool and I can use it all year round here. Not like Dad’s. I don’t know if I’ll come back to England. Please write again. Your sister, Cynthia.’
Archie wiped a small tear from the corner of his eye. ‘Can’t say I blame ‘er,’ he said, philosophically. ‘Not much of a life ‘ere, ‘as she? ‘Er old man an’ ‘er brother both inside.’
Modesty felt a wave of compassion for the man she’d dismissed as a callous criminal. And it came as a sobering thought to realise that that was just the same attitude her parents had taken towards Laura, Oz’s mother, before they knew the whole story. At least they’d come round now.
There was a momentary silence between the three of them and Modesty took the opportunity to survey the other prisoners and their visitors. They were of all ages and all cultures; some of the visitors were in expensive designer clothes while others looked as though they’d had to scrimp and scrape just to afford the fare to get there. Prison was certainly a great leveller, she reflected.
‘I’ve just had an idea,’ she said eagerly. ‘I’m going to go and see the Head when we go back to school and ask her if we can start a correspondence service, writing to prisoners and young offenders.’
Archie nodded. ‘Nice one, darlin’. Specially for the young ‘uns. There’ll be plenty of ‘em don’t ‘ear from no one, the whole time they’re in.’
Oz put his arm round her shoulder and kissed her lightly on the forehead. ‘I’ll come with you.’ He turned to his father. ‘And did you hear what happened about the cemetery?’
Archie nodded. ‘Your granddad in Guernsey wrote and told me. The council have bought it and it’s going to be properly consecrated.’
Modesty’s eyes flashed with excitement. ‘And the best thing is, the part that was going to be developed is going to be a peace garden! Isn’t that fantastic?’
‘Modesty lobbied the council about that,’ Oz told Archie, proudly.
‘She’s a good ‘un, son. ‘Ang on to ‘er.’ He looked from Oz to Modesty and nodded approvingly. ‘You two are a right pair of diamond geezers if ever I saw one.’
A
siren sounded for the end of visiting time and the screech of chairs scraping on lino resounded round the room.
Archie stood up with a sense of resignation. ‘Thanks for comin’ - both of you.’
‘See you again in a month?’ Oz queried.
‘Sure, son - I’ll send you the visitin’ order,’ Archie called as he walked slowly back to the door and his cell.
Outside, in the sticky August afternoon, Oz took Modesty in his arms and kissed her.
‘So, we have the whole afternoon ahead of us - what do a pair of diamond geezers do now?’
‘Never mind the whole afternoon - we have the whole of our lives ahead of us!’ Modesty laughed. ‘But for now, there’s a protest in Trafalgar Square against animal cruelty. We could go along to that and have a paddle in the fountains too. How does that grab you?’
Oz pulled her closer and kissed her again. ‘I think that sounds like a diamond idea!’
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