Dark Remains: A Maggie Power Adventure (Maggie Power #1)

Chapter 8 - The Escape

Chapter 8 - The Escape

The children sat at the dining table inside Mr Tuner's home; it was filled with food they had, in recent times, only observed, and had the pleasure of imagining the taste of, from the wrong side of a shop window.

In great haste, and transmitting sounds Mr Turner last heard when once he had observed pigs at home in a sty before being readied for slaughter, the children devoured every last scrap of chop, potato and cabbage placed upon their plates. Never in his life had he seen the bones of chops so thoroughly cleaned of meat.

Afterwards there was pudding too: a wonderful apple pie, baked by the housekeeper herself. The smell of the thing, when it was taken from the oven, and filled the entire room, made the children feel like they were in heaven.

"I shall leave you now, Sir," the departing housekeeper, Mrs Harrison, announced. "After washing these two reprobates, I shall need a good wash myself. In all my years, I've never seen such -"

"Splendid, Mrs Harrison. Thank you. That shall be all for tonight. Also, thank you so much for staying on for the extra hours. Your kindness and generosity of spirit is limitless. I shall see you in the morning at breakfast."

"Of course, Mr Turner. And will that be breakfast for three?"

"Indeed of course."

"Well goodnight and God bless Mr Turner, Sir."

"Goodnight to you too, Mrs Harrison," he replied.

"Thank you so much for your assistance," said Maggie. "And thank you for this wonderful feast."

She nudged Thomas, who took a moment to realise her prompting.

"Thank you, Mrs Harrison. Good night. And God bless!" he said.

"And God bless to you children too. I'm sorry if I was a bit sharp and severe with you earlier. But you can never be sure..."

Mr Turner shushed her and once more thanked her, told her not to worry about what occurred earlier. "That is in the dim and distant past now, Mrs Harrison. We all part this evening as friends. Good night."

After they finished eating their pudding, Turner took the children to his desk and seated himself behind it. After removing some papers, and moving books, which were blocking his view of the children, he began to speak.

"Your father is a rather remarkable man," he began. "There is a fire which burns in such men's hearts. And it is a fire that cannot be extinguished through imprisonment either. For it is a fire fed by the very notion of imprisonment. And thus imprisonment merely feeds their relentless energy and passion. The fire that fed your father's passion was, of course, injustice. Injustice of any kind. He felt it whenever he looked at a child beggar on the streets, a working man turned out of his factory for lack of work, or even an impoverished thief trying to feed himself and his family."

He coughed, and then sipped at a glass of port. "Now, however, he is himself a victim of an injustice. And I know you must miss him terribly."

"Oh we do," the children cried in unison.

"We know we would not have fallen so low, if Father had been here, Sir," added Maggie.

"Before his transportation, we corresponded for many, many years and I met him a number of times in person. I was supposed to be beside him the very night he was arrested. But other, pressing business did not allow me to be present. Anyhow, he is a man sent here to be a leader of other men, of that I am sure. However, your father's ruin - and I apologise for being so forthright and critical - your father's ruin was his impatience. I must say, you yourself young man," he continued and gestured to Thomas, "you share those self-same traits."