Three Brothers Read Online Free PDF Page A

broke out.
    Mr. Peabody recalled the case very well. Harry himself had wanted to attend the trial, but the man had pleaded guilty to all charges and had thus dispensed with jury and witnesses. He had also confessed to two other offences of arson, connected with a garage and a gentlemen’s lavatory. He had been sentencedto three years and despatched to Wormwood Scrubs, where he would be subject to regular medical reports. Mr. Peabody consulted the registers and uncovered the name of Simon Sim.
    Harry applied for permission to interview Sim, and the prison authorities obliged. He then wrote to Sim, introducing himself once again, and to his surprise received a friendly response. So, on an early summer morning, he arrived at Wormwood Scrubs. The name itself was sinister. What could be worse than a wood full of worms? It had been designed to resemble a fortress, with a wooden gateway between two great towers. Harry’s pace slowed, and he approached the entrance with some hesitation. He had the curious sensation that, once he entered, he would never get out again. He went up to the prison officer on duty, and explained his presence. Doors were opened, and gates were unlocked. He was led into “C” wing, and taken to a small room containing nothing more than a table and three chairs. One chair was at each end of the table, and the third was by the door. The air of the prison smelled of wet paint and stale potatoes mingled.
    Simon Sim was accompanied by a warder, who sat by the door. “Wonderful to see you again,” Sim said. “I haven’t been well. But I wanted to talk to you. I know that I know you. Isn’t that peculiar?” Harry did not understand what he meant. “This is a fine place to have a fever, actually.” He looked appreciatively at the grey walls and the barred window. “It calms you down. Helps you to think.”
    “Are you feeling better?”
    “Over the worst. Just the occasional shake or two.” He fixed his stare upon Harry with the same plaintive force as before, when they had struggled in the church. “May I enquire, I mean, why do you want to see me?”
    “I wanted to ask you about the Blitz.”
    “Oh that’s an enormous subject. Vast.”
    “What was it like?”
    “What was it like ? Golly, that’s a hard question.” His laughter turned into a cough. “This is what it was like. The glass was raining down. It was raining glass. If you looked up, you would have been blinded. But that was not the worst thing.” His voice was curiously melodious. “I’m glad that you caught me. It would just have gone on.”
    “How old were you when you began?”
    “Eleven. Twelve. A ripe old age. Terrific noise sometimes. We were out one night, after the sirens had sounded, when the bombs came down on the high street. I saw one girl. Her face was smashed where pebbles had lodged in her cheeks. One man was running down the slope of Hannaford Street, making for the shelter, when a falling bomb got him. I saw his head rolling along like a football.” He paused for a moment. “We were as keen as mustard.” Sim then told him of the bombing of a jam factory, where the dead were found covered in marmalade. He told him of a girl whose back was blown off, so that her kidneys were exposed; she had continued talking as she was taken away. There were other stories that he related with a peaceful and sometimes even blissful expression. Harry wrote down all of them. “I told you,” Sim said, “that I knew you. As soon as you wrote to me, I remembered. Your name is Hanway.” Harry nodded. “I knew your parents. I knew your mother. Lovely lady.” Harry looked at him in alarm. “After the War I worked in the grocer’s on Sutcliffe Street. Do you remember it?”
    “It’s still there,” Harry said.
    “She used to buy bacon for you. Sometimes one of you boys came with her. She was always cheerful. And now you’re here. Isn’t it curious how things come about? But then, dear me, you found me. I never found you.