Midnight on Lime Street by Ruth Hamilton Read Free Book Online Page A

another, a proper crucifix this time.
    Right, that’s it – it’s going in the river and Laura will have a new one, a proper one. I’m walking on sand now towards the pretty echo of a rising sun, and it’s
almost as magnificent as it was yesterday. I’m throwing the thing in the river wrapped round a big, flat pebble – anyone watching will think I’m stone-skimming. When the
water’s still and glassy like it is today, I sometimes bring the kids down to play this game. We count the bounces. Everybody says I’m a very good dad.
    When the Lord left them, His apostles had to make decisions. I’ve been co-opted. I’m a new disciple, a secret one, and I have to follow the path prescribed by the Son of God.
    Oh, and if your mail’s been a bit dodgy lately, I’ll do my best to get it right in the future. God bless you. Neil Carson, servant of the Lord.
    In Ian Foster’s limited experience, things never worked out according to plan. Nobody went in the cellar the night following the attack on Healey. After all the trouble
the lads had gone to while in prison, digging at cement and brickwork, loosening bars so that they might escape, nothing happened. No, that wasn’t true, because Brothers Healey, Ellis and
Moorhead disappeared from the face of the school. At morning assembly the following day, pupils were advised by Brother Bennet that the three had gone on retreat and that new teachers would arrive
within days. On retreat? Ian’s fury continued white-hot. Oh yes, they were on retreat, all right, but from their evil doings. They were a cowardly army, and they’d fled to regroup far
from the front line of battle, that was all. Ian still needed to get away to tell the Queen and all the rest what had happened here. The flight of the three yellow-bellies served only to verify
allegations. ‘I’m still going,’ he told John-the-Stammer Lucas, who nodded his agreement. Phil Sharples announced his intention to flee with them, but the rest of the escape
committee withdrew. The abusers had gone, and that was case closed as far as they were concerned.
    Ian was angry with them, too, though after some thought he began to understand why they weren’t coming. It was fear. Like concentration camp prisoners, they were too terrified to take
risks, and Ian certainly understood terror.
    So just three boys wandered from the route during cross-country running. They picked up envelopes, paper and stamps from behind an empty milk crate, turned right, and legged it to the top field
where their stash, including outdoor shoes, was kept. They kept on their running shoes, though flight wouldn’t be easy with all the baggage. John knew where they were going, so the other two
simply trudged behind him, weighed down by spoils and tired after a shorter than normal supposedly character-building cross-country run.
    ‘What if Brother Jerrold notices we aren’t with the rest?’ Phil Sharples asked. ‘He’ll throw a blue fit .’
    ‘Don’t waste your worrying on that,’ Ian suggested. ‘And if he does throw a blue fit, let him do it in Bluebell Wood, cos nobody’ll notice with all the flowers
being blue.’
    ‘And what if the rest of the escape group tell where we are?’ Phil mumbled. ‘What if they get questioned and beaten till they talk?’
    ‘They won’t, because they don’t know where we’re going.’ Ian adjusted his burden in an attempt to make carrying easier. ‘Only Stammer knows that.’
    ‘But—’
    ‘Shut up, Phil. We’ve miles to walk.’
    ‘But what if—?’
    ‘Shut up. Like I said, we’ve miles to go.’
    He was right, of course. The school was south of Liverpool, and they had to get north of the city via a circuitous route, since they needed to stay away from populated areas to avoid being
noticed.
    ‘We’re getting nearer,’ John told them. ‘Another hour or two, and we’ll be there.’
    The other pair stopped dead in their tracks. ‘What happened to the stammer?’ Phil asked, wiping