Emma smiled weakly.
'I want you to know,' continued Kristin, 'that Richard and I never doubted even for a moment that he was innocent. The man I nursed back to life wasn't capable of murder.'
'Thank you,' said Emma.
'I have some photographs of Tom while he was with us on the Kansas Star. Would you like to see them?' asked Kristin.
Emma nodded politely, although she had no interest in seeing any photographs of Lieutenant Thomas Bradshaw. She decided that once Kristin had left the room, she would quietly slip out of the apartment and return to her hotel. She had no desire to continue making such a fool of herself in front of a complete stranger.
As soon as Kristin went out, Emma jumped up. As she did so, she knocked her cup off the table and on to the floor, spilling some coffee on the carpet. She fell to her knees and began weeping again, just as Kristin came back into the room, clutching a handful of photographs.
When she saw Emma on her knees in tears, she tried to comfort her. 'Please don't worry about the carpet, it's not important. Here, why don't you look at these, while I find something to clear it up?' She handed the photographs to Emma and quickly left the room again.
Emma accepted she could no longer make good her escape, so she returned to her chair and reluctantly began to look at the photos of Tom Bradshaw.
'Oh my God,' she said out loud. She stared in disbelief at a picture of Harry standing on the deck of a ship with the Statue of Liberty in the background, and then at another with the skyscrapers of Manhattan as the backdrop. Tears came to her eyes once again, even if she was unable to explain how it was possible. She waited impatiently for Kristin to return. It wasn't long before the conscientious housewife reappeared, knelt down and began to remove the small brown stain with a damp cloth.
'Do you know what happened to Tom after he was arrested?' Emma asked anxiously.
'Didn't anyone tell you?' asked Kristin, looking up. 'Apparently there wasn't enough evidence to try him for murder, and Jelks got him off. He was charged with desertion from the navy, pleaded guilty, and was sentenced to six years.'
Emma just didn't understand how Harry could have ended up in jail for a crime he obviously hadn't committed. 'Did the trial take place in New York?'
'Yes,' Kristin replied. 'As his lawyer was Sefton Jelks, Richard and I assumed he wasn't in need of any financial help.'
'I'm not sure I understand.'
'Sefton Jelks is the senior partner of one of New York's most prestigious law practices, so at least Tom was being well represented. When he came to see us about Tom, he seemed genuinely concerned. I know he also visited Dr Wallace and the ship's captain, and he assured all of us that Tom was innocent.'
'Do you know which prison they sent him to?' Emma asked quietly.
'Lavenham, in upstate New York. Richard and I tried to visit him, but Mr Jelks told us he didn't want to see anyone.'
'You've been so kind,' said Emma. 'Perhaps I can ask one more small favour before I leave. May I be allowed to keep one of these photographs?'
'Keep them all. Richard took dozens, he always does. Photography is his hobby.'
'I don't want to waste any more of your time,' said Emma, rising unsteadily to her feet.
'You're not wasting my time,' Kristin replied. 'What happened to Tom never made sense to either of us. When you see him, please pass on our best wishes,' she said as they walked out of the room. 'And if he'd like us to visit him, we'd be happy to.'
'Thank you,' said Emma as the chain was removed once again. As Kristin opened the door she said, 'We both realized Tom was desperately in love, but he didn't tell us you were English.'
15
EMMA SWITCHED ON the bedside light and once again studied the photographs of Harry standing on the deck of the Kansas Star. He looked so happy, so relaxed, and clearly unaware what awaited him when he stepped ashore.
She drifted in and out of sleep as she tried to work out why Harry would be willing to face a murder trial, and would plead guilty to desertion from a navy he'd never signed up for. She concluded that only Sefton Jelks could provide the answers. The first thing she needed to do was make an appointment to see him.
She glanced again at the bedside clock: 3.21. She got out of bed, put on a dressing gown, sat down at the little table and filled several sheets of hotel stationery with notes in preparation for her meeting with Sefton Jelks. It felt like prepping for an exam.
At six, she showered and dressed, then went downstairs to breakfast. A copy of the New York Times had been left on her table and she quickly turned the pages, only stopping to read one article. The Americans were becoming pessimistic about Britain being able to survive a German invasion, which was looking increasingly likely. Above a photograph of Winston Churchill standing on the white cliffs of Dover staring defiantly out across the Channel, his trademark cigar in place, was the headline, 'We will fight them on the beaches'.
Emma felt guilty about being away from her homeland. She must find Harry, get him released from prison and together they would return to Bristol.
The hotel receptionist looked up Jelks, Myers & Abernathy in the Manhattan telephone directory, wrote out an address on Wall Street and handed it to Emma.
The cab dropped her outside a vast steel and glass building that stretched high into the sky. She pushed through the revolving doors and checked a large board on the wall that listed the names of every firm on the forty-eight floors. Jelks, Myers & Abernathy was located on floors 20, 21 and 22; all enquiries at reception on the twentieth floor.
Emma joined a horde of grey-flannel-suited men who filled the first available elevator. When she stepped out on the twentieth floor, she was greeted by the sight of three smart women dressed in open-neck white blouses and black skirts, who sat behind a reception desk, something else she hadn't seen in Bristol. She marched confidently up to the desk. 'I'd like to see Mr Jelks.'
'Do you have an appointment?' the receptionist asked politely.
'No,' admitted Emma, who'd only ever dealt with a local solicitor, who was always available whenever a member of the Barrington family dropped in.
The receptionist looked surprised. Clients didn't just turn up at the front desk hoping to see the senior partner; they either wrote, or their secretary phoned to make an appointment in Mr Jelks's crowded diary. 'If I could take your name, I'll have a word with his assistant.'
'Emma Barrington.'
'Please have a seat, Miss Barrington. Someone will be with you shortly.'
Emma sat alone in a little alcove. 'Shortly' turned out to be more than half an hour, when another grey-suited man appeared carrying a yellow pad.
'My name is Samuel Anscott,' he said, offering his hand. 'I understand that you wish to see the senior partner.'
'That is correct.'
'I'm his legal assistant,' said Anscott as he took the seat opposite her. 'Mr Jelks has asked me to find out why you want to see him.'
'It's a private matter,' said Emma.
'I'm afraid he won't agree to see you unless I'm able to tell him what it's about.'
Emma pursed her lips. 'I'm a friend of Harry Clifton.'
She watched Anscott closely, but it was obvious that the name meant nothing to him, although he did make a note of it on his yellow pad.