The Road Between Us Read Online Free PDF

With these handcuffs I thee wed.
    The judge is shouting now, but Anselm can register only randomwords … ‘ Deutschland … traitor … repulsive … sodomical … corruption … Schweinehund .’ Each word is accompanied by a thump of the table.
    There were two additional policemen waiting for them in the lobby that night in London and, when he saw them, Anselm fought a pointless impulse to run for it, to keep Charles’s hand in his and disappear into the night. They could lose themselves in the crowds of Piccadilly. What sweet anonymity that would have been. He had often dreamed of them doing that since. Running down narrow streets, over lush meadows, to the bare, rugged safety of the mountains.
    Instead they were taken outside into the street. There, to the curiosity of a newspaper vendor who had piled sandbags up against his stall, the handcuffs were unlocked and Charles was led to a waiting Black Maria, without even being permitted a backward glance over his shoulder. Moments later, Anselm was led away to a nearby police station. Neither had had a chance to say goodbye.
    The Judge-President is banging the table furiously now. ‘Why?’ he is demanding, his voice hoarse from shouting. ‘ WHY? ’
    ‘Love,’ Anselm answers. ‘Because of love.’
    ‘ Silence! ’ the judge screams. He seems like a rabid dog, flecks of spittle appearing at the corners of his mouth.
    Anselm feels his eyes welling, but wills himself not to cry. He also feels an insane urge to reach for the hand of the kind-eyed policeman and hold it.
    ‘I hereby sentence you to five years’ hard labour,’ the judge says, with a bang of his gavel. ‘Take him away.’
    Anselm is led to a door at the back of the court. His trial has lasted seven minutes, three fewer than the previous case.

V
    London. Present day. Five weeks after Edward’s release
    UPON RETURNING TO THE HOSPITAL, HANNAH FINDS HER FATHER on the floor and rushes to help him up. ‘Did you fall out?’ she asks. ‘Why haven’t the nurses been in?’
    ‘I was more comfortable here,’ Edward says, getting to his feet. ‘Still not used to this mattress.’
    Supporting him as he goes to sit on the bed, she asks: ‘Would you rather I slept on the bed and you slept on the pull-down?’ For the past few weeks she has been sleeping in the small pull-down bed next to her father’s. Her routine has been to rise early and slip away before he wakes up. Sometimes she heads back to the house to wash and change, sometimes she finds a café for breakfast and to catch up with her friends online. But the truth is, she would rather not be sleeping by his side at all. She is scared by her inability to read his needs. Perhaps, she tells herself, things will improve once he talks about his time in captivity. Niall says that he still hasn’t said a word on the subject, not to him, not to anyone.
    She pours him a glass of milk. It seems to be his favourite drink.
    ‘Thank you,’ Edward says as he takes a sip. ‘You really don’t need to sleep here, you know. I’m much better.’
    ‘I want to,’ she says.
    ‘Well, I appreciate the company.’ Edward looks as if he is going to say something more but checks himself.
    ‘What?’ Hannah prompts.
    ‘Nothing.’
    ‘What?’ Hannah insists. She is smiling a smile she hopes will look reassuring rather than nervous. Is he going to start telling her terrible things about what happened in Afghanistan? Oh God. She doesn’t feel ready. If he was tortured, or chained to a radiator, or was sharing a windowless cell with dozens of others, she would rather not know. She wishes Niall was here.
    ‘I thought you were Frejya just now.’
    He seems to find it hard to say the word ‘Mummy’. She understands. She is finding it hard to call him Daddy. The word doesn’t seem to fit her mouth. It is the wrong shape. The wrong weight. Dad might be better. ‘I know,’ she says. And I also know I am going to have to tell you about what happened to her, she thinks.