Read Online Touched by Angels by Alan Watts - Free Book Online

place.”
    “Yeah, there were.”
    “Who was the third person?”
    Robert gulped and said, “It were me. Mum was in the kitchen, like I said. She was cookin’ or some’ing an’ she didn’t come in ’til after it had happened.”
    The barrister scratched his head.
    “Are you aware that your father may be hanged ?” he asked, looking suitably appalled at such a dreadful prospect.
    Lil started squirming.
    “Yeah,” Robert said. “But only if he killed Mr King on purpose and he didn’t. It were an accident, I swear.”
    The barrister’s lips thinned and Lil could see his agile mind working, but in the end he shook his head and said, “No further questions, your honour.”
     
    ***
     
    As the jury were returning, nearly two hours later, the whole of the courtroom was lit in hues of ochre and flame through the windows, while the warm spring sunshine broke through the clouds. Lil felt cautiously optimistic at last, as the Clerk of the Court asked the Foreman, “Have you reached a verdict?”
    “We have.”
    “And is your verdict unanimous?”
    “It is.”
    “Do you find the accused, Robert Smith, guilty, or not guilty of the wilful murder of Mr Horace King?”
    “Guilty…”
    Lil swayed with horror, though a great cheer came from the gallery, and somebody piped up, “Hang the bastard!”
    “Yeah”, cried another, “Slowly, so he feels it!”
    “ Please, no!” Lil thought, as Robert steadied her, “Not this. Anything but this!”
    The gavel banged like a drumstick and then the foreman finished his sentence, “…with a recommendation for clemency.”
     
     

Thirteen
    Bob wasn’t the only the only one to get a life sentence that day. There were the Inkpens too. All eleven of them.
    Scared to death, they were sitting on hard benches in the cold Receiving Rooms of Marylebone Workhouse, under the chilly grey eyes of Miss Beckersdeth, the Matron, and Alistair King, here as always to watch as they removed their clothes. Mr Pocket stood in the background, muttering, Bible in hand. It was he who had received them at the doors. The family shivered in their nakedness, the older ones feeling their skin crawling as King’s eyes wandered over them.
    There was an assortment of other internees too, who couldn’t cope any more. Some were hopping with fleas and lice, as Mr Parsons, the Medical Officer, started counting boils and carbuncles.
    Miss Beckersdeth was pacing up and down, tapping her thigh with a strap as they donned their blue serge uniforms.
    “Silence is the rule,” she barked.
    Her voice was like a reed, her mousy hair tied back in a bun.
    “The penalties for laziness and disobedience are solitary confinement, on bread and water, for adults, and flogging for any brood. There will be no nonsense. There will be no appeal. Clear?”
    There were nervous murmurs of agreement, but then grasping hands appeared from nowhere, plucking away her children, and Mrs Inkpen screamed, flying at her, “You’ll not take me kids, you bitch! Give ’em back! You give ’em back!” Her hands were locked into claws. Spit flew from her lips. Her eyes burned with hate.
    Her husband tried to pull her back, soothing, “We’ll be together again soon, love. Promise…”
    “Let me go. I want me kids!”
    “We’re a family,” he assured her, “we’re united. Soon as I can get work we’ll…”
    “You stupid damn fool!” She tore herself away from him. “It’s cos o’ you we’re ‘ere, you an’ yer ale, yer good fur nuthin’…” She started slapping his face and he put his arms up to shield himself.
    Beckersdeth nodded at two of the orderlies, who calmly restrained her.
    She kicked and scratched to be free, hollering as her kids were dragged away, one carrying the screaming baby, as urine trickled down her legs. She tore at Beckersdeth once more, shrieking, and managed to kick her before the orderlies held her back, while Alistair watched on in fascination.
    Her screams echoed down the dreary corridors,