Page 114 of A Convenient Fiction

“He fell from the cliffs not long after Justin bought the Abbey. He’d been drinking.”

“And Cheevers?” Leonard Cheevers had run the orphanage. Had beat them, and withheld their food for the smallest infractions.

A look of satisfaction came over Tom’s face. “Tried and executed for theft. They hanged him in the public square.”

Alex briefly rested his head in his hands. “Perhaps there is justice in the world.”

“I believe that,” Tom said. “Eventually, it comes to us all.”

“That doesn’t bode well for me.”

“Have you committed so many crimes since you left North Devon?”

“Not crimes, no. Nothing like betraying my friends and leaving them to die.”

Tom’s light blue eyes softened behind his spectacles. “None of us died, Alex. None of us suffered any more than we already had. If that’s been on your conscience these twenty or more years—”

“It has.” Alex gave a huff of humorless laughter. It had ruined his life.

“You can’t be doing so badly. You’re newly married, traveling in high style through France. Besides, even if justice did come for you, you’d have something to weigh against your sins.”

“I don’t know what.”

“You saved Neville’s life.”

Alex clenched his fist where it lay. The memories were too painful. Too raw, despite the intervening years.

“The way you went in after him,” Tom said. “The sea was so rough that day, and you were under the water for so long. Justin and I despaired of you. But every time you came up, you went back down again—for longer and longer. Minutes at a time. It was miraculous. The most heroic thing I’ve ever seen. To this day, I still don’t know how you did it.”

“Do you want to know how I did it?” The words burst from Alex in a rush of whispered fury. “How I was able to swim so deep—to hold my breath for so long? It’s because I didn’t care whether I lived or died anymore. I was ready to drown down there. To let the sea take me. Anything to get away.”

Tom went white about the mouth. “Who was it? I want a name.”

“A friend of Crenshaw’s from Bournemouth. A man called Morley. He used to come to the shop to buy opium. Crenshaw supplied him with that, and more. Morley sold the drugs on the street for a profit. Crenshaw would have done anything to oblige him, even given him access to his apprentice.”

“Did he—?”

“No,” Alex said. “But his interest was plain. He made remarks. Little gibes about my appearance. How strapping I was. How handsome. And then one day he touched me. It was naught but a squeeze of the shoulder—and a lewd whisper in my ear. But later I saw him huddled with Crenshaw. Heard them mention my name. Crenshaw was going to give me to him. To work for Morley, he said. To live with him. I may have been just a lad, but I knew what was going to happen to me. And I knew then that I had to get out of there.”

“You should have told us.”

“Three orphan boys? What could any of you have done?” Alex scoffed at the idea. “No. There was no one to tell. No one who would have believed me. And even if they had…who on earth would have cared?”

Tom leaned across the table. “We would have cared. Justin, Neville, and I. Damnation, Alex. You could have told me. You didn’t have to break my blasted nose.”

“I was terrified. When you said we should wait—that we should talk to Justin about what to do next—I saw red. You were holding my future in the balance. My very life, to debate at your and Justin’s leisure.”

“That’s not what I—”

“That’s how it seemed.”

“You were in a frenzy.”

“I was angry. I’d been angry since things had started with Morley. And when you and I were struggling over the treasure—when you wouldn’t let it go—I hit you because…because I couldn’t hit him.” There was a burning sensation at the back of Alex’s eyes. “And then I kept hitting you, because it was the only way to save myself. To burn all of my bridges behind me. To do something unforgiveable. Something there was no going back from. Because I didn’t want to leave. You and the others…you were all I ever had.”

Tom fell quiet. His face was solemn, his eyes sad. For the barest instant, he resembled the boy he’d been so long ago. Young and earnest. “I wouldn’t call thrashing me unforgiveable,” he said. “Not after everything you did for me over the years. You protected me from Cheevers. From the other boys. Took beatings that were meant for me more times than I can count. If it wasn’t for you—”

“You’re rewriting history. Turning me into some self-sacrificing hero.”