“This won’t work,” Ben said.
“Here won’t,” Jonah agreed. “Well, we’ve gone too far, that’s all. We need a town. Let’s stay here tonight and pick somewhere to head for tomorrow.” He glanced over. “It’ll be fine, Ben. The justiciary won’t be able to alert every police force in every town in England. They won’t even want to, I bet, they’ll just want us—me—to go away.”
Ben wasn’t convinced of that. “What if Saint’s dead?”
“I’m sure she’s not. But if she is, it’s too late for us to do anything about it. Come on. I want a drink, and a wash, and an actual bed.”
“Can we afford that?” Ben said. “That is, we can’t afford that.”
“Yes, we can.” Jonah spoke firmly. “This is a good thing to spend money on.”
“Not if we don’t have any.”
“Don’t worry about money, Ben. We’ll manage.”
“I told you,” Ben said. “I won’t live by stealing. No more theft.”
“Yes, you said—”
Ben grabbed his arm, pulling him round. “Said it and meant it. I won’t have it. If we’re travelling together, or—or whatever we’re doing, you can’t steal. I want your word that you won’t.” What was that worth? “Your word to me.”
Jonah exhaled hard. “I don’t see why—well, obviously, I do see, but God, Ben, is this the time for moral scruples?”
It was exactly the time, when the broad and easy path beckoned so temptingly. “Yes. We’ll find something else.”
“Like you did in Reading? Surely if we need—”
“It’s not about need. Everybody needs. You can’t break the law because you need.”
“We did, for months.”
“That—” That’s different, Ben wanted to say, but it wasn’t. “All right, yes, but that harmed nobody else. The point is, I won’t live by stealing and I don’t want you to be a thief.”
“Oh.” Jonah looked startled. “Oh. I didn’t think of it like that. Uh…” He gave Ben a glance that was almost shy. “If that matters to you…”
“Yes.”
Jonah cocked his head. “All right. No more stealing.”
“I mean it, Jonah. I want your word.”
Jonah gave him a cheerful grin. “You have it. I give you my word.” That didn’t sound remotely like a serious decision and Ben was about to protest when Jonah waved a hand. “Anyway, you’re doubtless right. We’ll find something else easily enough.”
“Will we?”
“Pfft. I’ve done plenty of this—”
“Running from the law?”
“Having nothing in my pockets and nowhere to go. The trick is not to weigh yourself down. Live through today the best you can and don’t worry about tomorrow.”
“Keep running, or you’ll fall?”
“Exactly.” Jonah gave a satisfied nod. Ben stopped and stared at his back as he trotted up the hill, wondering how to say, You do realise that’s how you dragged us both into this awful bloody mess in the first place?
The Green Man was in shadow when they made it back up the steep hill. Lights flickered through the small-paned windows. Ben pushed open the thick, black-painted door, and they went in.
It was a very old inn. The floor was rough and uneven stone. A fire smoked badly in the huge hearth, not drawing properly, suggesting why the heavy beams and rough walls were so smoke blackened. A rather grim-looking landlady, her angular face lined with tiredness, turned as they approached the bar, and took in their unkempt appearances with a look of surprise that quickly changed to distrust. They were dusty, crumpled, and neither had shaved in days. Jonah’s dark chin was on the way to respectable growth; Ben looked like the vagrant he was.
Jonah beamed at her, a wide, innocent smile that made her lips curve in instinctive response, before the stern expression returned. “Can I help you?”
“We’re desperately dry,” Jonah assured her, smile broadening. “Two pints of ale, please?” He pulled out coins as he spoke, and the woman relaxed slightly and went to serve them. Jonah chatted to her as she drew the beer, rattling on about trivialities with his usual fluency, and she agreed that yes, she could do them a plate of something.
“We don’t cook much,” she said. “Not much call for it.”
“Not a lot of passing trade?” Ben asked, after a long and welcome pull at his beer.
She gave a short laugh. “Here? No.”
Ben wanted to ask how they kept going and decided it would be tactless. A girl, about seventeen, with the same strong cheekbones as the landlady but softened by youth, came in with a pile of logs that seemed too heavy for her.
“It’s the upkeep,” the landlady said with a sigh. “This is a big place. It used to be a coaching inn, but the railways.” She spoke as if that were all the explanation needed.