Page 150 of Crocodile Tears

“Not that it’s a secret, just that it’s been a long time since I won any medals, and the press aren’t as interested in me as they once were, so nobody has noticed until now. Right – you have some questions for me. Go ahead – I’m all ears.”

“When did you last have contact with your brother?”

“Ah, well, that’s what those reporter fellows asked, and my answer remains the same – I haven’t seen him since he was sentenced to servitude.”

“That’s not quite what I asked.” Josiah watched Charles frown as he pondered that; he clearly wasn’t as bright as his brother.

“Oh! Right – yes, I see. Well, the answer is the same – I haven’t had any contact with Alex since that day – nothing at all.” He gave a sad smile. “I do miss him, terribly.”

“I can understand that. He’s your brother, after all.”

“Well, quite.”

“You must be a very forgiving person,” Josiah mused. “I’ve read your family history – Alexander was driving under the influence of drugs on the day you suffered your terrible accident.” He gestured at Charles’s walker. “Your brother’s actions ruined your life, and yet you forgave him.” He sat back, trying to get the measure of the man.

“Well, yes, but Alex is my little brother. I love him. I was four years old when he was born, and I adored him from the minute I first saw him.” Charles smiled fondly.

“We were close growing up; he was always so naughty, and I used to get him out of trouble. I couldn’t hate him if I tried. Besides, it wouldn’t help – it just eats you up inside. Forgiveness is the better path in the long run, wouldn’t you say?”

“I wouldn’t know. I don’t forgive easily,” Josiah replied tautly.

“Oh. Right. No.” Charles looked down at his hands. Clearly, heknew Josiah’s history, as most people did. It made Josiah long for the days when he could get on with his job anonymously, without his past getting in the way.

“You must know that the seven-year sentence imposed by the court came to an end in June,” he said. “So, if his houder didn’t mind losing a hundred and sixty million pounds, then Alexander could be freed now.”

“Are those seven years up already? I knew it must be sometime this year, of course.” Charles looked flustered.

“So, I was wondering – did you make Elliot Dacre an offer to buy Alexander now that he’s served his sentence?”

Charles stared at his knees for a long time. When he looked up, Josiah was startled by his guilty expression.

“No, I didn’t,” Charles said in an agonised voice. “I should have. I promised him I would, only, well, at first, the end of his sentence seemed very distant. I thought I had plenty of time to get the money together. I was earning well, and there was always Lytton AV. I thought the business might recover, and then I could get part of the money from Dad. But then Dad had his stroke, and the business had to be sold off, and it was in so much debt that we didn’t make a penny.” He gazed despondently out of the window.

“So, you’re saying you didn’t make an offer to buy him?”

“Hmm?” Charles tore his gaze away from the unkempt garden outside. “Oh, no, I didn’t. I feel terrible about it, but we simply don’t have the money.”

Josiah gazed at him steadily. Charles, clearly sensing judgement, flushed.

“I wanted to walk again,” he admitted suddenly. “Medical treatment for my kind of spinal cord injury isn’t cheap.”

“No. I’d imagine not.” The National Health Service was long gone, the distant memory of a bygone age. Access to decent medical insurance was one of the main reasons people sold themselves into indentured servitude.

“Do you blame me?” Charles whispered pathetically. “I just wanted it so badly.”

Josiah sighed. Did he blame him for choosing his mobility over his brother’s freedom, especially given Alexander’s crimes? It was a tough call.

“I wish there’d been more money, but as you can see…” Charles waved his hand at the rundown room, with its peeling wallpaper.

“We used to have dozens of indentured servants, but we couldn’t afford to keep feeding them and pay for their medical insurance, so they had to go. I do okay with my commentating work and after-dinner speeches, but I have to pay for the upkeep of this place, and medical expenses for my father and myself, and so on.”

“Why not sell the house to pay for Alexander’s freedom?”

“Well, I would in an instant, of course, but Dad owns the house, not me, and he won’t hear of it. It’s his family home; the Lyttons have lived here for generations. He wouldn’t do it, anyway – he’s never forgiven Alex for what he did. Besides…” Charles sighed. “Look, the truth is that the house is mortgaged up to the hilt, and even if it wasn’t, we still wouldn’t have the money to buy Alex back. He’s far too expensive.”

“I see.” Josiah studied Charles thoughtfully. “I’m sure you won’t mind me taking a look at your bank accounts and mortgage statements to verify that?”

“Of course not. In fact, you can see them while you’re here.” Charles took out his holopad and zapped the files over.

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