Read Online Say Goodbye to the Boys by Mari Stead Jones - Free Book Online Page B

were about to join Idwal Morton on the bench before he marched out of the room.
    None of us spoke whilst he was out. Emlyn appeared to be reading an old Air Raid Precautions poster on the wall. MT kept on clearing his throat. Idwal Morton stared straight ahead, belching softly every so often. A waiting room tension in the air.
    Sergeant Watts was soon back. ‘I’ve arranged it for you, Mr Edmunds,’ he said. ‘If you’ll be so kind as to come this way. It’s Chief Inspector Marks, CID.’ As he ushered MT out he said to us, ‘You are permitted to sit.’
    We joined Idwal Morton on the bench under the Air Raid Precautions poster. For most of the time we were silent. Once I began to say something but Idwal said ‘Walls have ears,’ which earned him a glare from the Sergeant. Idwal kept on going out to the toilet. Emlyn looked around him with interest, as if trying to memorise the place. Half an hour passed.
    What happened then happened too quickly for me to remember afterwards. Emlyn nudged me suddenly and said ‘OK?’ I must have nodded. He got to his feet and marched to the desk, rapped his knuckles on it and said, ‘My name is Emlyn Rhys Morton, sane and over twenty one, and I wish to make a confession.’
    I saw Sergeant Watts take off his glasses; saw his mouth open. Then Emlyn said, ‘And this is Philip Roberts, lately of the army in India, who would like to do the same!’
    By then I was standing next to him at the desk, and Idwal Morton was howling behind us, ‘Stupid young buggers! You stupid, young buggers.’
    Sergeant Watts acted swiftly. He was out of the room in a couple of strides. He left the door wide open and came face to face with a tall man in a grey suit. He said something to the man and jerked a thumb at us.
    â€˜Have you taken leave of your senses?’ Idwal was yelling at us as the man came to the doorway.
    â€˜Both of you?’ the man said. He must have used all his clothing coupons on that suit. It was a glove fit, his shirt smooth and starched at the throat, showing at the cuffs crisp and white. But his face was crumpled and tired, pouches under his eyes.
    â€˜Don’t listen to them!’ Idwal roared. ‘Playing at silly buggers, that’s all!’
    â€˜Marks,’ the man said, ‘Chief Inspector...’
    â€˜Morton, E. R., sir,’ Emlyn said. ‘This is Roberts, P.’ You and your pissing brain waves, I thought. ‘We also want to confess.’
    â€˜Confess to what?’ Inspector Marks said. His voice was tired too.
    â€˜What about legal representation?’ Idwal joined us at the desk. ‘What about the caution?’
    Inspector Marks sighed. ‘You are a parent, obviously. Of one or the other. I am conducting a preliminary enquiry. Nothing more. No one has to say anything if they don’t want to. No one has to confess. To anything.’ He stared at each of us in turn. ‘Is that understood?’ I nodded eagerly. ‘Then please come this way, quietly and without disturbance of any kind.’
    I stepped aside to let Emlyn go first. ‘Bloody fascinating, don’t you think?’ he whispered as he went past. ‘I’ll bloody fascinate you later,’ I told him.
    The room was large and bare and smelled of disinfectant. There were two worn tables placed end to end and a number of straight backed chairs. Mash sat in front of the tables. Behind him against the wall sat MT. There was a young, greasy-haired man there as well, across the table from Mash, papers in front of him, an important pencil in his hand. Next to him, his hat tilted back, his gold-rimmed glasses low on his veinous nose, sat Amos Ellyott.
    The Inspector spoke, ‘I have two more probable confessors, Mr Stubbs.’
    Stubbs nodded. ‘That makes four, sir.’
    â€˜Four?’ Idwal Morton cried out. ‘How is it four?’
    MT stood to attention. ‘I have confessed