“You can’t tell anyone what I’m going to tell you.”
“What you did?”
“What I didn’t do. The day before I was due to take a history A level exam, my family set me up to take the blame for an armed robbery that my brother Phelan had carried out.”
River sucked in a breath.
Newt stared down at the card on his knee. “My family had a reputation. My father and Sean had solid alibis, and they made sure Phelan had one too. My mother drugged me and while I was out of it, they planted Phelan’s clothes, some of the proceeds of the robbery and a gun in my room.”
“Oh God.”
“Phelan had a previous conviction, which meant he’d get a fifteen-year sentence. Because I was still seventeen, with no record, I might only have got three years. Though I couldn’t tell them where to find the rest of the cash, watches and jewellery that had been stolen because I had no bloody idea, so it looked like I wasn’t cooperating. Phelan would have gone straight into an adult jail, whereas I might have only spent a few years in a young offender institution, which is a lot cushier than prison. I was…emotionally blackmailed into saying I’d done it. I did think about telling the truth but…”
Newt rubbed the back of his neck. “The guy Phelan robbed had a heart attack a couple of weeks later and he died. It was attributed to stress brought on by the robbery. The gun was fired. No one was injured but the guy would have been scared shitless. So would I. He had a wife and two daughters. He wasn’t there to give one of his daughters away when she married a few months later. He was a good man. I was just the punk kid of a criminal family who didn’t care about the consequences of his actions, the people I hurt. Three years was suddenly a fantasy. It could have been fourteen.
“I was too shocked about the situation I found myself into show much reaction. I had some sort of mental breakdown. I didn’t speak, didn’t react to anything. I know the word for it now. Dissociation. The only way to cope with the trauma was to cut off thoughts, feelings, memories and reality. Like extreme daydreaming. My visible lack of reaction condemned me. The judge saw a young man showing no remorse, no regret…” He let out a shaky sob. “He didn’t see someone who was literally scared out of his fucking mind.”
“How long?”
“Did I spend locked up? Seven years. I was released a few weeks before I met Max. Did he tell you how that happened?”
“No.”
“A guy on the back of a motorbike grabbed Max’s phone. I got it back. Max bought me a coffee. When he found out I had a psychology degree he offered me this job. As long as I signed an NDA.”
Newt still couldn’t look at him. “I’d been living in a hostel in Tunbridge Wells, trying and failing to find employment. When an ex-con applies for a job, they don’t have to tell people they have a criminal record but if asked, they must reveal it. Everyone asked the question. Max didn’t.”
River huffed and Newt looked at him then. River squeezed his hand a little harder.
“Max…des…perate not to look after me.”
“Anyone would do?”
“No. Max likes you.”
“I think he couldn’t believe how lucky he was. Someone who could start right away and knew about speech therapy? I couldn’t believe how lucky I was either. A live-in job paying good money? Of course I signed the NDA. I know how to keep my mouth shut. I’d spent seven years doing exactly that.And I do know what I’m talking about as far as speech therapy’s concerned, but I’m not an actual speech therapist and probably never will be.”
“Don’t care.”
“About the speech therapy bit?”
River took hold of Newt’s chin and turned his head so he was looking at him.
“Any of it. You are…a good person.”
Oh don’t fucking cry.Newt could feel his eyes brimming.
“We go to see your…brother to…morrow. He…better…say…sorry.”
Fifteen
River was pretty sure Newt didn’t really want him there when he went to see his brother. The only reason Newt was taking him was because he didn’t want to leave him on his own, but River wasn’t letting him go by himself. He’d been completely stunned by what Newt had told him, then angry at the injustice of it and now he was feeling protective and vindictive, which was crazy because he couldn’t even get the words out to speak on Newt’s behalf. And lashing out at a guy who was dying seemed wrong even if what he’d done was fucking appalling.
He remembered all too well what he’d thought about Newt when he’d first met him. About his fucking perfect body and fucking perfect speech, that Newt had no fucking idea what River’s life was like.Oh God. What a twat I was.Nobody’s life was perfect.
River didn’t know how Newt had survived all that time locked up for something he didn’t do. He couldn’t think of anything about Newt that suggested he’d been in jail. No freak outs about locking doors or the dark or nightmares. Although he did eat fast. Maybe that was something. And he got up early. Then again, maybe time spent in a comfortable house in the countryside with a guy who could barely talk had given him chance to breathe. Newt seemed remarkably well adjusted.
They went in the Aston. Newt had called ahead to tell the hospice he was visiting. No music on this journey, no language games. River didn’t know what to say to him—to tryand say. He did wonder whether to tell him about his family, but the moment didn’t feel right, not when Newt was struggling. In any case, long explanations for anything were still beyond River. He sort of wanted Newt to talk to him about prison, but he wouldn’t push.
