Elizabeth’s taxi came along the cobbles chased by kids. George was at Lawton’s perimeter fence when he heard the racket. He stopped, one leg through the wire, and watched. These grubby vagabonds crawled all over the docks. They challenged intruders great or small. George had already seen them in action against a fire engine and had kept out of sight ever since. When the taxi pulled up, they danced around it clapping and shouting. The driver sped off, leaving Elizabeth in the street. Unabashed, she walked towards George, followed by a chanting crowd.., well, there were only five or six of them, but they took over the place… and yet he didn’t dwell on their antics. Elizabeth was jubilant.
They went through the fence and picked their way towards the wharf. A couple of kids tailed them, but then vanished.
‘We’ve done it,’ said Elizabeth. A trial had taken her out of London, so they hadn’t met for three weeks. She sat on the remnant of wall, glad to be back, her heels tapping like a dancer’s. ‘He appears to be doing one thing, but hidden within the numbers is another animal. He keeps it right under Nancy’s nose.’
‘Would you write that down, please?’ George reached for his notebook.
‘In due course.’ Elizabeth fished in her bag for the whisky and the beakers. ‘There’s more to say, more that’s worth keeping; but now we celebrate.’ Out of a carrier bag she produced beef and horseradish sandwiches, and a tub of cherry tomatoes. The surface of the Thames ran upon itself with ripples. On the far bank empty barges hovered in a mist.
‘George, there’s something you need to remember… to dwell on, as I have. The stone you throw is small, picked from his own garden, but it will take away something he values above all else, and behind which he hides: a good character: the gift bestowed by the law upon the righteous, as well as the man who is never found out.’
George frowned. ‘Have you got a pen?’
Elizabeth laughed. She put a tomato in her mouth and took the notebook.
‘And lay off the stones and gardens stuff. I’d like it in black and white.’
‘I’ll give you both.’
When she’d finished, Elizabeth fetched out some Greek yoghurt with honey George was reading the label when an envelope wrapped in plastic blocked his vision.
‘Put this in a safe place,’ she said. ‘Inside is a detailed explanation of Riley’s scheme. It’s complicated and by no means obvious.’
‘What am I to do with it?’
‘For now, nothing. Tomorrow he’ll be at Mile End Park for an early Christmas fair. In all we have done, I’ve reserved for myself a small part: to see him face to face once more, and to accuse him.’
And what’s mine?’ He looked at the yoghurt pot. Nino had said the stuff was bad for the arteries.
‘You will deliver the explanation to Inspector Cartwright. It is the material upon which Riley’s conviction will stand. That belongs to you.
George shifted with importance and pride. The moment had become solemn. He felt he should stand up and make a brief speech.
‘Have you got a spoon?’ he said.
Elizabeth grimaced. ‘I completely forgot.’
Elizabeth stayed late that evening. As night fell, lights appeared upon the river, shuddering.
George said, ‘You asked me, once, if I’d ever thought of evil… whether it could be undone. I wrote it down, but I’ve been unable to forget the idea. It’s impossible. It’s greater than anything I can imagine.’
Elizabeth was writing in George’s notebook (recording what would happen in the morning, and where they’d meet). Without looking up, she said, ‘Many years ago, a wonderful monk told me we could only undo evil to the extent that it has touched us. I can’t do it for you; you can’t do it for me. It’s a wholly personal quest.’
George thought there should be a manual for this sort of thing – instructions with diagrams and a page at the back for troubleshooting. It would make life a hell of a lot easier.
‘I was told it’s more deadly than vengeance,’ she said, narrow-eyed, as if aiming.
‘What is?’
‘The forgiveness of the victim,’ she muttered, making a precise full stop. ‘It goes right to the heart.’
George wasn’t especially impressed. He’d expected a revelation, something to make you sit up.
‘I’m told it’s the only way evil can be undone,’ she said, closing the book. Becoming practical, she added sternly ‘Whatever happens, wait at Trespass Place.’
From beyond the bed of broken brick, outside the fence, a horn beeped three times. Elizabeth stood and faced George. She gave him fifty pounds, and checked that he had understood all that would happen tomorrow, confirming that they would meet in the afternoon at Trespass Place.
‘George,’ she said, with a sigh, ‘even tonight will you not stay inside? How about the Bonnington?’
He refused and she smiled fondly, placing a hand on each of his shoulders. As far as he could recall, she kissed him for the first time. Her hands remained there, heavy and reassuring. Perhaps it was the openness of her face that made George say what he hadn’t planned. It seemed to devastate her, on this the night of celebration.
‘John’s death had nothing to do with you. You didn’t bring Riley into court, I did.’
‘Yes, I know’ She spoke as if she were haunted; as if she didn’t mean what she said. Her arms dropped and she walked carefully along the edge of the wharf. At the far end she stopped and stared for an age into the black water. It chopped around the timber supports like a clock gone wrong, ticking in spasms.
Three times more the taxi beeped its horn.