Burnington Gaol

T H I R T E E N | Adeline

"You don't have to go if you don't want to," Dad said.

"No, I do," I sighed. "I have a huge assignment I have to work on. And I need to hand up last week's essay."

Dad sat at the kitchen table, a worried look on his face.

"I just don't know if you should hurry back to school. I'm sure your teachers will understand."

"I'm sure they would too, but I can't just sit around in this tower all day. It'll drive me mad."

Dad stood from his seat, approached me as I shrugged on my jacket.

"Okay," he said. "But come home if it becomes too much."

I smiled up at him.

"Promise."

Dad checked his watch.

"Sorry, love. I'm expected at the front desk in five minutes."

"Of course. Go. We'll be fine."

My father smiled at me, kissed my temple, and slipped out the front door.

"Billy?"

"What?" He shouted from the loft.

"Hurry up; Tony will be here soon."

Just as the words passed my lips, Tony's calloused knuckles hit the front door. Billy jogged down the stairs two at a time as the guard stepped into the tower. At 6.7, he was practically a giant, with thick blond hair and kind blue eyes. I smiled at him.

"Morning, Tony."

"Hey, Ad."

Billy grabbed his backpack off the couch and slung it over his shoulder. The three of us stepped out into the early autumn sun, the ice-cold breeze sweeping down through the walkway between the inner and outer wall. This was the quietest – and probably safest – part of the gaol. The only prisoners you would find on this path were buried at the side of it.

Dad called them the unwanted dead – those who were executed with no family to claim them. Buried at the side of the concrete path, their names were forever carved into the stone above. I walked past them twice a day, every day, and yet I never got used to them. Billy walked ahead of us, wanting no part in any form of conversation, which gave me the perfect opportunity to talk to Tony alone.

"So how are you?"

Tony shrugged.

"Not bad," he said. "What about you? How are you... coping, with everything that's been happening lately?"

"I'm fine," I said.

We fell silent for half a heartbeat. I was never any good at small talk.

"Tony, I, um, have a favour to ask."

"Oh?" He said. "What favour is that?"

"You know Frank Dawson?"

Tony's eyes suddenly hardened, a coldness radiating from within them.

"I know Frank."

"Is there any way you could possibly, maybe, um, arrange a meeting? Maybe in the Visitor's Centre?"

"What's this about, Addie? Why would you want to meet Frank?"

I paused, considering my answer.

"When I was in the diner with Jimmy," I whispered, "he gave me this."

I pulled the letter out of my pocket; Jimmy's scribbled handwriting on the front.

"He said to give it to Frank. It was his dying wish, and... I felt like I should."

Tony's eyes widened slightly.

"He gave you that?"

"Yes."

"Adeline, you can't just bring things like that in here," he said, voice dropping to a whisper as we entered the front office. "There could be anything in there. Drugs. Money. Cigarettes. Ink. Weapons. It's dangerous. If you get caught giving things like that to inmates, your father would be fired and you'd be out on the street."

"There's nothing in it," I argued, though I couldn't be certain. "It's a goodbye letter. Please, Tony. I need to meet him."

"No. Absolutely not."

"But I... I think he might be innocent."

Tony stopped mid-step, spun around, looked down at me.

"Jimmy told you that, didn't he?"

I lowered my eyes, and that was all the information he needed.

"You can't listen to him. They're liars. They'll do anything to get out of this prison."

"But maybe they don't deserve to be here in the first place."

"They were proven guilty without a shadow of doubt. Fingerprints, DNA. It was all there. They did it."

"If you don't help me, I'll just keep digging. I'll find out the truth, one way or another. And if that truth turns out to be that Frank and Jimmy are killers, so be it. But if it's not, if they're innocent, then everybody ought to know. It's not fair to them."

Tony looked down at me, saw the fire in my eyes.

"Everything okay?" Billy asked, joining us.

"Just fine," Tony replied, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Well, good, because we're about to miss the bus."

I looked to Billy, who had a confused look on his face.

"Of course," I said, and we started walking again.

As we approached the front gate, I glanced up at Tony, who glanced back at me, and silently confirmed the end of our matter.

"See ya, Tony." I said, passing through the gate.

"Bye. Have a good day at school."

I smiled half-heartedly and walked to the bus stop.

© A.G. Travers 2018