The crewman walked away.

Penfold stood still for a moment. Looking into the distance. Focusing, in the hope that he might catch a glimpse of Holland.

Nothing, he thought as he let his eyes wander.

By now other passengers had noticed the turn. Had noticed the moving shadows. Soon everyone would know they were headed back. It would inconvenience many, he thought, but he was sure that none was taking as big a risk as he was by returning to British soil.

THIRTY-SIX

The return journey took two hours.

Including an hour of hell, Wisdom Penfold thought.

The first hour had been OK. A concern, but a manageable one. Penfold had heard the explanation perhaps twenty times during that first sixty minutes. From crew members and from other passengers. It had not changed. A technical difficulty with the ferry. A need to return to the closest port.

Inconvenient but believable.

The second hour had been much worse, from the moment England came back into view. Penfold had experienced an incredible feeling of relief when it had disappeared earlier in the day. His paranoia was just as great now that the coastline was back.

For sixty minutes Penfold’s fears had grown. Not helped by the couple from the port. He had seen them again on deck and had noticed the man glancing in his direction. Not once but twice. If Penfold had been calm he would have dismissed it. Of course they’d be on the upper deck, he would have thought. Almost everyone was. And the glances in his direction? That was not surprising, either.

But after a whole hour of his heart racing. Of jumping at every shadow? Penfold’s behaviour was now erratic. And it was drawing attention.

Who wasn’t looking at him?

It could not be helped. The fate that might await him in the UK was too much for Penfold to bear. A return to the walls that had held him for so long, a sentence well-earned by his recent crime.

Penfold could not stay calm. Not with that hanging over him.

He made his way to the lower deck. The dock was fast approaching. He had maybe ten minutes before the moment of truth. Before he would know the real reason for the ferry’s return.

Please God this isn’t a set-up.

Penfold found a quiet corner. Most passengers remained on the upper deck, still enjoying the sun. It offered him space and Penfold took it. He settled into a cushioned bench next to a wall and began to breathe deeply. For a moment he managed to clear his head. To calm his nerves. To overcome his fear.

Stop thinking about it. It might be nothing. It’s probably nothing. And if it’s not, well, then you’ll deal with it.

You’ve done it before.

Penfold listened to his own advice. It was working; he could feel his racing heart begin to slow, the pain in his temple begin to lessen.

It’s nothing to worry about. We’ll be moving again in no time.