Free Lies and Misdemeanours by Rebecca King Page A

It was far too probing; as though he knew who she was. But, just like the old man, she was positive she had never seen him before in her life. He was older than Charlie by a good five years, and had a rather rough street-fighter type look about him that warned her that he wasn’t a man to be crossed.
    A strange shiver of unease swept down her spine. She was fairly certain that he wasn’t one of Meldrew’s men either. Nor did he look anything like the old man who had nodded and winked at her.
    What on earth was going on? She mused with a scowl.
    Whatever it was, she was positive now that something was amiss. She gave him one last searching look before she quite pointedly turned her back. She moved several feet to one side in an attempt to break his stare. When she did eventually glance back at the spot where he had been standing, he too had vanished, just like the old man.
    She looked toward the wall of people Wally had disappeared into, and now wished that she had told him about the old man. It was too late now though because there wasn’t the time to look for him.
    She jumped when the church bell began to chime. The early morning mist had only just started to lift, and gave the town of Derby a somewhat haunted atmosphere which, to her, seemed to fit the occasion they had gathered for.
    The crowd quietened down and counted the chimes.
    The seventh hour was upon them.
    Hetty’s fists clenched. She took a moment to look around her. For all intents and purposes, it could have been a fayre, or something equally banal. The scattered buildings of Derby lay all around them, and were packed to the rafters with people sipping ale. Traders were selling penny dreadfuls. Artists were drawing pictures to capture a record this particularly gruesome day, some of which would appear in the broadsheets tomorrow. It seemed macabre to think that all of this was to mark the fateful day when several unfortunate souls were to be put to death.
    “No,” she snapped to a man who offered her a penny dreadful.
    She glared balefully at another trader who offered her roast chestnuts, and curled her lip at a man who waved a broadsheet in front of her face.
    Thoroughly sick of people trying to make a profit from such an occasion, she pushed roughly through the crowd and moved the final three feet to get to where she needed to be, and suddenly wished she hadn’t.
    The sight of the wooden platform only a few feet away made her head swim but, what was worse, was the sight of the grimy faces pressed to the bars of the huge jail, which now sat right beside her.
    She knew that if she didn’t step back a little, she was not going to be able to do what she needed to do to save even herself. She was too close, but the crowd had closed the space behind her, and now blocked her exit.
    A jailer stood a few feet away and studied her with a scowl. Their eyes met for several moments before Hetty turned her gaze away. She tried not to look guilty, she really did but, unless she was mistaken, that jailer knew why she was there.
    Don’t be absurd, she sighed to herself. How can he possibly know ?
    She wanted to dismiss the notion as ridiculous but, when she turned around to look at him again, he had vanished. There had been something in his face that had warned her that he knew who she was, and why she was there.
    Were some of Meldrew’s men in the crowd? The thought made her knees shake.
    She closed her eyes on a silent prayer that he didn’t. She quickly shook off the growing sense of disquiet and studied her new position a bit more carefully. She now had a perfect view of the path the condemned would walk on their way to the gallows. It was by far the very worst place to be but, right now, she desperately needed to make eye contact with Charlie and Simon when they came out. If only so she could let them know that she was there; and they were not alone in this.
    She hadn’t been allowed to see her husband this morning. Their brief visit yesterday hadn’t been