The lane thinned, and then turned a sharp left. I followed behind Nancy when the lane became too narrow for us to walk side by side. I held my skirts up so that the hem of the dress didn’t drag in the mud, but my boots – they were the ones I’d had in 1755 – were caked in filth.
We walked along a quiet terrace to the end building, which was a larger, red brick affair. Its door was heavy, painted a dark blue, with a circular iron door handle. Nancy stepped up to the door and rapped on it.
We listened to the echo of her knock reverberate deep into the building. Nothing happened. We exchanged a glance. Nancy knocked again.
This time, after we’d waited a few moments, we heard the noise of keys jingling and someone on the other side of the door. Nancy stepped back down onto the street.
The door swung open to reveal a stout man in a policeman’s uniform.
‘’Elp you, miss?’ he enquired, blinking in the daylight.
‘Oh. Yes. Good day,’ Nancy began. ‘I am Nancy Willcock of St Nantes, and this is my dear friend, Mrs Tegan Penrose, of Penzance. We believe that you have her husband William Penrose, here, and we have come to ask that he may be released.’
Nancy was using a much more proper accent than she usually did, and it seemed to work, because the policeman nodded and stood aside to let us in.
‘Right y’are. Big fella, is it?’ he asked, gruffly, as they entered. ‘’Ee’s been a right pain in the arse, if you don’t mind my French, missus.’
‘That’s the one,’ Nancy replied. ‘What’s the bail amount?’ She was brisk and businesslike. I wondered if she’d done this before.
My heart was beating in my throat. I was so nervous; the prospect of seeing William again made me want to cry with joy and grief at the same time. But I was also nervous that the police would want to see some document that would prove William was my husband. There was no way I could make them believe me, if it came to proof.
‘No bail. ‘’Ee’s not done anything wrong; ’ee just was a nuisance. We thought ’ee was drunk, so we brought ’im in. Fought a bit, but nothin’ terrible. Just as well you found ’im, miss, otherwise we would’ve sent ’im to the workhouse up Exeter way in another day or two.’
The fact that there was no bail required was a huge relief. I was surprised to see that Nancy had come prepared with some candlesticks and the money she’d earned the day before in Tintagel, reading fortunes and selling remedies, but it wasn’t much. I’d been so touched that she’d even offered to help me, let alone potentially bail William out of gaol. But Nancy just said,I took a vow to ’elp the travellers, and ’elp is what I’ll do.
The policeman led us through a reception area with a heavy wooden desk and two leather-topped chairs, and into a back roomwhich featured two cells, barred off with iron doors. He opened a viewing slot on the door on the right and peered in, then stood aside and gestured to me that I should look inside.
‘That your husband?’ he asked, as I peered into the gloom.
Inside the cell, I could only make out a slumped figure, sitting on a chair. I squinted. It was a man, I could see that, but not much else.
‘I can’t really see him,’ I whispered.
‘Ah.’ The policeman nodded. ‘May I?’ He indicated the spot where I was standing, and I stood aside again. He peered into the viewing slot and addressed the man.
‘Sir. Your wife is here. Kindly stand and come towards the door so that she might see your face,’ he said, firmly.
There was a scuffling noise behind the door.
‘I don’t have a wife. Not anymore,’ a voice replied. It was low and sonorous; a voice that I would have recognised anywhere.
The policeman stood by so that I could look in again.
William De Vere Trevarron’s dark brown eyes met mine in the gloom. The eyes that I knew so well. The eyes that I’d thought I’d never see again.
‘William,’ I breathed. ‘It’s me. Tegan.’
There was a silence.
‘William?’ I whispered. ‘Can you hear me? It’s me, Tegan. I’ve come for you.’
‘Tegan?’ His voice was hoarse. I heard a noise like a thud. I looked in through the flap and saw that he stood with his forehead resting against the iron door. ‘Can it be you?’
‘Yes. I’m here,’ I repeated. My heart swelled at the familiar tone of his voice.
It was him. I hadn’t been sure at first – it was all so unlikely, so ridiculous that I would find William on the other side of that iron door. It should have been someone else; a stranger. I hadn’t been sure until I saw his eyes and heard his voice.
I turned to the policeman.
