Refuge of Delayed Souls

Part 13 - Help Yourself

1940  

Billy found himself face to face with the solicitor who had been appointed to represent him at his trial. He looked on absently as Stanley Birch brushed an invisible fleck from his immaculately pressed grey flannel trousers and then pushed a packet of cigarettes and a box of matches across the wooden table between them.

“Help yourself.”

Billy, taking a cigarette from the packet and placing it between his dry lips, shook out a match from the box and struck it; as much as he hated accepting charity he accepted that beggars couldn't be choosers.

“I know about the Lancastria,” Stanley announced.

Billy glanced up at Stanley and made eye contact with him for the first time.

“It must have been a terrible thing to have lived through. I can't say I've ever experienced anything quite like it myself. I can only relate to my experiences of the Somme during the Great War.”

Billy remained silent.

Stanley continued , “There is no doubt that you fired that shot, no doubt whatsoever. What is arguable is whether that shot was intended for someone else.”

Billy started coughing violently. Retching and spluttering, he tried to stand up but tripped over the legs of his chair and fell to the floor.

Stanley rushed forward, helped him up and took him back to his chair. Retrieving the lighted cigarette from the floor where it had fallen, Stanley stubbed it out in the ashtray and offered Billy a pristine white handkerchief to clean up the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

“I suspect that you’ll be suffering from the damage you sustained that day for the rest of your life.”

Billy took the handkerchief and wiped his mouth. "Thanks," he muttered begrudgingly.

Stanley smiled. “We need to prepare for the trial. Even if you don't want to save your own neck, there is still your family to consider.”

“I didn't mean it for her!”

“I understand." Stanley seemed to be trying to sound reassuring.

Billy bowed his head. “I’ll never forgive myself for killing Peg! Never!”

***

Five years’ hard labour! He had thought he would hang for sure. Part of him felt the death penalty would have been an easier sentence. Still, he had done well getting away with murder -– crying shame he had shot Peg instead of Michael.

“Never fret, Lawrence. We’ll get you one way or the other,” sneered the police officer guarding him. “You get five minutes with your Brief and then five with the lovely Mrs Lawrence. I’d lay money on her not going without for the rest of the war!” he grinned lewdly.

Billy clenched his fist and his stomach snapped tight. “Bastard! If it wasn’t for these bloody handcuffs I’d kill you,” he raged.

“No doubt you’d love to, Lawrence. But then I’d just be another one to add to your list now wouldn’t I?”

Billy kicked out violently with his foot and toppled the chair in front of him.

Stanley Birch entered and discovered Billy and the middle-aged police constable glaring at one another. He could have cut the tension in the atmosphere with a knife.

“Five minutes, sir,” stated the constable to Stanley as he prepared to leave the lawyer alone with his client.

“Constable Allen, isn’t it?” enquired Stanley.

“Yes, sir. Have we met before? I thought you were from out of town?”

“I’m sure one day I’ll have the pleasure, Constable,” replied Stanley sarcastically. Constable Allen stared back quizzically and then left the room.

Stanley turned to face Billy and gestured towards the wooden table and chairs in the middle of the room. Both men sat down across the table from one another.

“Thank you, sir,” said Billy sincerely.

“I was only too willing to help, Corporal Lawrence,” replied Stanley. “When the jury returned the manslaughter verdict I had hoped that the judge would have been merciful.”

Billy seemed to be avoiding Stanley's gaze and kept his eyes aimed down at the table’s rough surface. “I don’t deserve to go free, Mr Birch. I'll never be able to forgive myself for what I've done. It'll haunt me for the rest of my life!”

“Only if you let it,” replied Stanley. “Imagine that Peg is here in this room with us now. What would she say? Do you think that she would forgive you?”

“Yes,” answered Billy, wiping away an escaped tear. “She was a good woman was Peg. The best I ever met. She did not deserve to die like that.”

“Then you need to learn to forgive yourself,” declared Stanley, standing up and offering his hand. “Goodbye and good luck, Corporal Lawrence. Perhaps we’ll meet again one day under more fortunate circumstances.”

Billy came to his feet quickly and clasped Stanley’s extended hand with both his own. “I owe you a great debt, Mr Birch. I am very grateful to the Army for sending you to help me.”

Stanley walked towards the door then halted and turned to face Billy with a twinkle in his eye. “It wasn't the Army who sent me, Corporal Lawrence.”

“Well if it wasn’t the Army that sent you, Mr Birch, who did?”

“Peg!” replied Stanley over his shoulder as he left the room.