Fifteen
“Name?”
The officer at the desk blew out a cloud of smoke with his words as he asked for my particulars. Ash was falling from his pipe as he scribbled on a piece of pre-printed paper, which he scrubbed away with the back of his hand leaving streaks of black across my information. He didn’t even look at me. Didn’t care to.
It was still dark when we’d arrived at the station in Aberystwyth. The wagon had taken a different route to the bus we’d travelled on previously and I found myself in an area of the city that I’d never seen before. The rusty sign clinging high in the corner of the building we had stopped at read, ‘Great Darkgate Street’, but it didn’t help me get my bearings.
As soon as we were taken from the back of the carriage Mair had been escorted off through an entrance at the side of the building while Gwyn and I were marched up the steps at the front and presented to the duty officer.
He blew out another plume of smoke that got caught in my throat, causing me to cough. With my hands constrained I was unable to cover my mouth and flecks of spit splashed over the man’s form. Finally, he looked at me, rather annoyed. “You are hereby charged with drunken behaviour, assault and resisting arrest. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
“Not guilty,” I replied, and the left side of his lips curled up in a snarly grin.
“That is for the courts to decide. Please empty your pockets into this.” He reached for something below him and then placed a small wooden box on the desk. Unable to reach my pockets, the officer behind me dug his hands into them, roughly grabbing for the contents before spilling the coins and pocket watch I was carrying into the tray. “You’ll now be held at Her Majesty Queen Victoria’s pleasure until you are put before the courts in two days hence.”
“Two days?” I shouted as I was dragged away down a side corridor. I tried to look back to see if Gwyn was ok but I received a smack to the side of my head for my efforts and was pushed through a huge metal door which slammed shut behind us.
“Where are we going?” I asked, but no reply came. We turned left and started down another corridor. It was dark and dingy with green tiles lining the walls and no windows to let in any light. At the end of the corridor was a row of holding cells and Graham marched me to the furthest one.
He smirked as he shoved me inside but said nothing while he undid my handcuffs. I wanted to plead my case but I knew it was pointless so I just watched as he locked the heavy steel door behind him, leaving me alone.
The room was damp and cold with the bare stone walls providing the minimum of shelter and the tiny window, too high up for me to see out of, not yet letting any sunlight in. Two benches lined the walls, not wide enough to sleep on and too hard to be comfortable, and in the corner near the door was a metal bucket. The smell coming from it let me know exactly what it was to be used for and I took a seat as far away from it as I could.
I waited alone in the dark for around fifteen minutes before I heard footsteps in the hallway again. When the cage opened, I allowed myself a brief moment of hope that perhaps someone was coming to tell me that it had all been a terrible mistake and that I was free to go, but the arrival of Gwyn and the re-locking of the door dashed that small bit of hope to pieces.
“Did they hurt you?” he asked, rushing over to me on the bench. I stood to greet him and he raised his hands to my face, kissing me, before drawing me into a hug.
“I’m fine,” I said. “What about you? Are your ribs ok?” I pulled his shirt up to take a look at him, running my hands across his stomach. He didn’t appear to be any worse off than before but I knew he wouldn’t tell me if he was in pain.
When I was sure that he was fine I sat on the bench and tried to get comfortable. The room was thin enough that I was able to put my feet up on the one opposite and Gwyn sat alongside me with his head in his hands.
“I hope Mair’s alright,” he said. “I don’t like that they took her off.”
“It’s Mair,” I said, trying to sound reassuring. “She’ll be fine. You know she can look after herself.”
“I just hope her mouth doesn’t get her into any more trouble.”
“What do you think he’s doing this for? Arthur, I mean.”
He leaned back against the wall and let out a long sigh. “Because he can.”
“What will happen to us?” I asked, worried I might be spending the rest of my life behind bars.
“Neither of us has been in trouble before. Arthur might be able to get his cousin to do his dirty work but neither of them is a judge and neither of them can decide our fate.” He paused for a second before adding, “At least, I hope not, anyway. If we’re lucky we might get a fine.”
“But they took all my money.”
“Mine too,” he said. “If they’re honest men we’ll get it back.”
“If they were honest men, we’d not be here in the first place.”
It was several hours before anybody came back to check on us and we were both irritable from the lack of sleep and the discomfort of the cell. Hearing the jingle of keys in the corridor outside, both of us bolted upright and stared at the door in anticipation.
When it swung open a man stood before us that I didn’t recognise. He was younger than the men who had dealt with us the previous night and his face seemed friendlier as his eyes flicked between us.
“Jacob? Griffiths?” he asked, as if we weren’t the only two men in the cell. “Come with me, please.”
Leaving the door wide open he turned heel and headed down the corridor. Gwyn and I gave each other a glance before rushing out and following behind him until we found ourselves back in the area of the station where we’d had our charges read to us.