The Sins of the Father (The Clifton Chronicles, #2)(2)

It is important that you realize my love for Emma has in no way diminished; far from it. I cannot believe I shall ever experience such love again. But I do not feel I have the right to expect her to spend the rest of her life clinging on to the vain hope that at some time in the future I might be able to prove that Hugo Barrington is not my father, and that I am, in fact, the son of Arthur Clifton. At least this way, she can consider a future with someone else. I envy that man.

I plan to return to England on the first available ship, so should you receive any communication from a Tom Bradshaw, you can assume it’s me. I’ll be in touch with you the moment I set foot in Bristol, but in the meantime, I must beg you to keep my secret as steadfastly as you kept your own for so many years.

Your loving son,

Harry





When Jelks had finished reading the letter, he once again took Harry by surprise. ‘Did you post the letter yourself, Mr Clifton,’ he asked, ‘or did you give that responsibility to someone else?’

For the first time Harry felt suspicious, and decided not to mention that he’d asked Dr Wallace to deliver the letter to his mother when he returned to Bristol in a fortnight’s time. He feared that Jelks might persuade Dr Wallace to hand over the letter and then his mother would have no way of knowing he was still alive.

‘I posted the letter when I came ashore,’ he said.

The elderly lawyer took his time before he responded. ‘Do you have any proof that you are Harry Clifton, and not Thomas Bradshaw?’

‘No, sir, I do not,’ said Harry without hesitation, painfully aware that no one on board the Kansas Star had any reason to believe he wasn’t Tom Bradshaw, and the only people who could verify his story were on the other side of the ocean, more than three thousand miles away, and it would not be long before they were all informed that Harry Clifton had been buried at sea.

‘Then I may be able to assist you, Mr Clifton. That’s assuming you still wish Miss Emma Barrington to believe you are dead. If you do,’ said Jelks, an insincere smile on his face, ‘I may be able to offer a solution to your problem.’

‘A solution?’ said Harry, looking hopeful for the first time.

‘But only if you felt able to retain the persona of Thomas Bradshaw.’

Harry remained silent.

‘The district attorney’s office has accepted that the charge against Bradshaw is at best circumstantial, and the only real evidence they are clinging on to is that he left the country the day after the murder had been committed. Aware of the weakness of their case, they have agreed to drop the charge of murder if you felt able to plead guilty to the lesser charge of desertion while serving in the armed forces.’

‘But why would I agree to that?’ asked Harry.

‘I can think of three good reasons,’ replied Jelks. ‘Firstly, if you don’t, you’re likely to end up spending six years in prison for entering the United States on false pretences. Secondly, you would retain your anonymity, so the Barrington family would have no reason to believe you are still alive. And thirdly, the Bradshaws are willing to pay you ten thousand dollars if you take their son’s place.’

Harry realized immediately that this would be an opportunity to repay his mother for all the sacrifices she’d made for him over the years. Such a large sum of money would transform her life, making it possible for her to escape the two-up-two-down in Still House Lane, along with the weekly knock on the door from the rent collector. She might even consider giving up her job as a waitress at the Grand Hotel and start living an easier life, although Harry thought that was unlikely. But before he agreed to fall in with Jelks’s plans, he had some questions of his own.

‘Why would the Bradshaws be willing to go through with such a deception, when they must now know that their son was killed at sea?’

‘Mrs Bradshaw is desperate to have Thomas’s name cleared. She will never accept that one of her sons might have killed the other.’

‘So is that what Tom is accused of – murdering his brother?’

‘Yes, but as I said, the evidence is flimsy and circumstantial, and certainly wouldn’t stand up in court, which is why the DA’s office is willing to drop the charge, but only if we agree to plead guilty to the lesser charge of desertion.’

‘And how long might my sentence be, if I agreed to that?’

‘The DA has agreed to recommend to the judge that you’re sentenced to one year, so with good behaviour you could be free in six months; quite an improvement on the six years you can expect if you go on insisting that you’re Harry Clifton.’

‘But the moment I walk into the courtroom, someone’s bound to realize that I’m not Bradshaw.’

‘Unlikely,’ said Jelks. ‘The Bradshaws hail from Seattle, on the west coast, and although they’re well off, they rarely visit New York. Thomas joined the navy when he was seventeen, and as you know to your cost, he hasn’t set foot in America for the past four years. And if you plead guilty, you’ll only be in the courtroom for twenty minutes.’

‘But when I open my mouth, won’t everyone know I’m not an American?’

‘That’s why you won’t be opening your mouth, Mr Clifton.’ The urbane lawyer seemed to have an answer for everything. Harry tried another ploy.

‘In England, murder trials are always packed with journalists, and the public queue up outside the courtroom from the early hours in the hope of getting a glimpse of the defendant.’