For all of her life Esther Falconer had believed that things happened by chance … both good things and the bad. They just happened, and that was that, as far as she was concerned. Life either came up hard to hit you in the face or it came up soft and gave you something beautiful.
But she no longer believed in chance happenings, not now, after the horrendous attack on her golden boy, her beloved grandson James. He had been targeted on purpose, along with his friend Denny. No question about that.
She would never forget how shocked and frightened she was when Sergeant Mick Owen and Constable Tony Roy had arrived at the Montague residence on Sunday morning, earlier in the week.
Her fear for her grandson’s life had permeated every cell of her body. Even after Sergeant Owen had endeavored to reassure her and Philip that he would be fine, that fear had lingered. Yes, James might well live, she had thought on that horrific morning, but would he be brain-damaged? Or facially disfigured? No one could really answer that. The entire family had rushed over to King’s Hospital; his parents and siblings first, then she and Philip, later his uncles, George and Harry. Everyone had visited every day to comfort and console James. It had been five days of anxiety for them all. Now it was Thursday, and on Friday, the old bandages would come off and new ones would go on. The healing process had begun. This thought helped her to relax. She believed he would be as good as new.
Esther was sitting next to James’s bed, her sewing in her hands, although the needle was still. Her grandson was sleeping, breathing gently, at rest. He was now in one of the main wards in the hospital, with screens around him for peace and quiet, and also privacy. Two detectives from Scotland Yard had been to see him, following up on the policemen Roy and Owen, who had found the boys on Chalk Farm Road. Unfortunately, there were no leads, nothing to go on. Seemingly it was a dead end.
WHY?
That was the question which haunted Esther. Why had someone wanted to harm her grandson and his friend Denny Holden? Innocent boys, minding their own business, never in trouble. Jack Holden had asked her that on Sunday and every day since. She had no answer for him or for herself. It was a mystery.
An image of Jack Holden’s face came into her mind, and a slight shiver passed through her. On Sunday, he had looked stricken, was white with shock, anguish making his body taut, tension surrounding him like an aura. His Denny was in a coma, and Jack feared for his son’s life.
Esther had endeavored to comfort him, wanted to help him get through the ordeal. He had no one else. His wife was ill, and his daughter, Nancy, was in service and it had been difficult to reach her. Thankfully, she had finally been contacted and was now with Jack, supporting him as best she could. But she was just a young girl, with little experience of life, not much to draw on.
A sigh escaped. Esther leaned back against the chair, her thoughts whirling in her busy mind. Sunday had been the worst day. Then slowly, things had settled down, and the news for them had been good … James was improving on a daily basis. But not Denny. He was still in a coma, and Jack Holden was beside himself, his pain a palpable thing. Philip was spending time with him at this moment, hoping to ease his suffering …
“Grans?”
At the sound of James’s voice, Esther was on her feet. She went to her grandson swiftly and stared down at him. “Do you need something, James?”
“A drink of water, please.”
Esther reached for the glass, propped him up, and helped him to hold the glass. He drank half of the water in the glass, obviously thirsty. “That’s better,” he said, smiling at her.
Placing the glass on the nightstand, she returned to her chair, pulled it closer to James, and sat down. “How are you feeling, my boy?”
“All right, really, Grans, but I’m still a bit stiff. My whole body aches.”
“The doctors believe you will come out of this all right, James. Be as good as new, one of them said.”
“That’s what they told me earlier. How’s Denny? I’m worried about him.”
“He’s still in a coma, but apparently that’s not uncommon under the circumstances after that kind of beating. They think he’ll be out of it soon and that he’ll be fine.”
“I hope so. He’s not as strong as I am, you know. I often call him Tiddler, just as a joke, because he is shorter, smaller than me.”
Esther nodded. “That’s true, but I want you to know he will get the best of treatment when he comes around,” Esther assured her grandson. “Now, I need to ask you a question regarding Denny. You told me yesterday that you went to that bar Tango Rose because Denny liked the barmaid there. Sergeant Owen went to speak to her … she’s called Milly Culpepper, I believe. Is that the girl you mean?”
“Yes, that’s her. Very pretty. A blond girl with a nice manner. They really liked each other, she and Denny, I mean.”
“Sergeant Owen told me she’s not married, so it can’t be a jealous husband who attacked you both. However, does she have a boyfriend? A young man who might be interested in her?”
“Not that I know of, Grans. She met with Denny several times, just the two of them. They hit it off, you see.” James fastened his blue eye on his grandmother, and asked uneasily, “Do you think she lied to Denny? Do you think we were attacked because of her?”
“I don’t know. No one knows. But Scotland Yard is going to investigate her. She might not have been telling Denny the truth about being unattached.”
“Oh my God!”
“Don’t be upset. Let the police do their work. You and I have other fish to fry.”
“What do you mean?”
“I have a plan for you, James, a wonderful plan that we shall put into place when you are feeling better. I’d like to tell you about it.”
“Tell me, Grans. I’m all ears … I can’t wait to be up and about and out of here.”
Leaning forward slightly, Esther said, “I am going to take you away from here, far away from Camden and up to Hull. It is there that you will recuperate properly, at my sister’s house on the High Street. Great-Aunt Marina and Great-Uncle Clarence will look after you, and I shall stay at least two weeks. When you are up to it, you will go and work with their son William at their shipping company. You will learn a lot from Clarence and William, which will serve you in good stead when you return to London.”
“It’s a good plan, Grans, but when will that be? When will I return to London?”
“In about a year from now. You’ll come back strong and whole, and you’ll have learned a lot. Then you can put your own plan into operation. The plan you have about working for Mr. Henry Malvern at his Piccadilly office.”
James began to laugh. “If I could clap my hands I would, Grandmother!” he exclaimed. “I’m thrilled you think I can still have a plan and make it work.”
“Of course you do, silly boy. You are not a defeatist. You are a winner … winners always go up and up and up! And I bet my bottom dollar on you. I know in my deepest heart that you will always be the winner, James Lionel Falconer. You see, that’s what I trained you to be.”