A House Without Windows (24 page)

Edwin looked up with irritation.  Somebody else was sitting on
his
seat:

“Neither.  I just want to be left alone.”  He turned his gaze back to the pond.

“Well I’ll tell you anyway.”

“Fuck off.” 

Hawkes persevered.

“The bad news is that you won’t be able to eat hospital food for much longer.  Don’t you want to know why?”

Hawkes’ conversation suddenly registered in Edwin’s brain.  He turned around on his seat to face the warden with an inquisitive look on his face.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”  He sighed and felt like punching the man’s lights out.

“What I’m saying is that your latest interview went well.  The good news is they’re talking about giving you a trial out in Braemar House. What do you say?”

At first the enormity of Hawkes’ words failed to register with their recipient.  However, after a minute or so a slow grin spread across Edwin’s lined features:

“They’re letting me out?”  He could hardly believe his ears.

“Not fully, no.  You’ll be given a furnished flat within the complex and supervised, but you’ll be allowed out locally to go to work and to buy food.  If you behave yourself at Braemar and show you can hold down a job, after six months you can move on and rent a place of your own.  You’ll just need to report to a social worker once a week.”

“Jesus Christ!  Cheers for that Benny!”  Edwin shook the warden’s hand.

Edwin got up from his seat, and felt like dancing around the pond.  The fish looked up at him with hopeful eyes.  He threw in some pellets of food from a wooden box nailed to the courtyard wall, gazed up at the sky, and laughed out loud:

“I’m getting out!”

Hawkes observed the man he had watched over for nearly 17 years. 
He was now either completely sane and ready to take his place in society, or was still as mad as a hatter and had fooled them all:

“Don’t forget, you’ll be closely supervised for six months.” 

“Yeah, yeah, so what’s new? When will I be going then?”

“Next week; probably Monday morning. Good luck to you, Edwin.”

“Cheers.”

As Hawkes continued patrolling the courtyard, he could not help but have a little niggling doubt as to whether the decision of the powers-that-be to let Edwin leave the safety of the hospital was actually the correct one, or whether the repercussions would come back to haunt them in the future.  Only time would tell.

Back in his room, Edwin looked around the familiar surroundings that had been his home for so long.  There wasn’t much to pack as far as he could see; a few clothes, some toiletries, some paperbacks, and the framed photographs of his mother and father they’d let him keep. 
Not much to show for a life lived for nearly 60 years.

He thought back to what he’d had before it all went wrong; the house, the car, the business, his daughter, but most of all…Beth. 
That little shit had taken the whole lot away from him by being born, and he’d even had the nerve to come and visit!

Edwin punched the wall with his fist, feeling the tension leave his body: 

His son would be the first one to pay.  He would wait until the time was right, bide his time, keep his nose clean, and then claim Beth back, who had been rightfully his in the first place.  That little fucker had only been good for one thing; he’d bleated on about living in Norwich close to the station.  Sooner or later one of them would be getting off the train……………….

CHAPTER 61

The work was tedious.  However, Edwin was nothing if not a perfectionist.  He stacked the supermarket shelves with a military precision; the label of each tin always faced the same way, and was lined up perfectly with the one next to it.  He was well aware that he had become an object of ridicule amongst his teenage co-workers, but he kept himself to himself and made sure his anger never bubbled to the surface, especially when some stupid customer would take a tin from his carefully constructed pile and throw it in carelessly in their trolley.

He made himself popular with the management.  He was always early for his shift, and always let it be known that he did not mind staying over time to help out with work in other departments. After his three-month trial he was promoted to assisting the manager in charge of the grocery department; making sure every fruit and vegetable compartment was always well-stocked with produce from the warehouse, and answering customer enquiries.  The work was still tedious, but the managers were pleased with Edwin’s diligence.

At the end of his shift Edwin would walk the two miles home to his little four-roomed flat in Braemar House.  He saved his wages, kept himself apart from the other inhabitants, and made sure he was always on time for the daily meetings with his social worker.  If he was not needed to work a weekend shift he would spend his time in the local Internet café, trawling through estate agents’ websites looking for a suitable place to rent; near enough to get to Norwich on the train, but far enough away not to cause any suspicion.

Before he knew it the two mile walk home was being taken under a summer sky and with the birds still twittering in the trees.  Edwin was pleased; the physical work in the supermarket had made him fitter than he’d been in years, he had some money in his post office account, and things were indeed looking up.

One day in the middle of a heatwave he arrived back home to find a note from Danny, the Social Worker, pinned to his front door to say he would be calling again that evening.  Edwin
tutted
with annoyance, and tore the note into shreds.  He was just finishing his meal of roast chicken, chips and peas, when he heard the inevitable knock on the door:

“Hello Edwin; may I come in?”

“Sure Danny.  I was just finishing my dinner.”

“Had a good day at work?”

“Not too bad.  There’s talk of me being promoted again.  Nothing definite, but I’m keeping my fingers crossed.”

Danny nodded sagely:

“I’ve only been hearing good things about you, Edwin.”

“Well, I’ve tried hard to keep in their good books.  It looks as if it might be paying off at last.”

“Indeed. Indeed.”  Danny Vincent looked at the man standing in front of him and wondered what it was about Edwin that always made him feel edgy.  He couldn’t put his finger on quite what it was, but there was definitely something about the man that just did not gel right with him.

“It looks as though you’ll be able to move off from Braemar House quite soon.  You’re holding down your job, and if you’re agreeable you can start looking for somewhere of your own to rent now.”   Danny smiled with his mouth, but his eyes stayed focused.

“Great.  I was thinking somewhere like Colchester.  My cousin lives near the town centre there.”

“Ok.  I’ll inform Essex social services, but you’ll only need to report in once a week now to their office.  Ask the HR department at the supermarket for help in transferring you to their branch in Colchester.  They’ll be able to give you a good reference.” 

“Will do.”

Danny felt relieved to be able to escape out of the front door.  At the last moment he realised what he found disconcerting about the man; it was the eyes. 
Edwin’s voice was soft, but the black, beady eyes were mesmerising. 

CHAPTER 62

Edwin left Braemar house at the end of July 2013 without so much as a backward glance, and found a one bedroom flat to rent in Colchester about a 20 minute walk from the train station.  He remembered that his cousin probably lived nearby, but did not have any burning desire to find out for certain.  He took his prescribed medications on time, reported to his new social worker once a week, cooked a meal for one each evening, and kept his new flat clean and tidy.

The reference from his previous employer stood him in good stead, and within a short time had been promoted to the post of produce manager at the Colchester branch.  He ran his team with military precision, but spoke to nobody unless it was to do with work issues.  He was aware the staff laughed at him behind his back and thought him odd, but his team were somehow mindful to arrive punctually for their shifts and to wear a smartly pressed uniform and a willing smile.  Customers often commented on how tidily and neatly the vegetables were stacked in their little plastic compartments.

Edwin waited, and then waited some more.  When his social worker only needed to see him once a month, he began to formulate some plans.  The freedom from interfering busybodies gave him the chance to catch the train unobserved and make some forays into Norwich on his days off.  He found a seat outside the station where he could sit and watch the people coming and going.  He would be nearer to her there; he felt he could almost reach out and touch her hair.

He had all the time in the world.  The weather was good, and not a soul noticed him sitting there hour after hour.  People rushed by him, busy with their own lives.  He scanned the faces of the women going in and out of the station, and knew that if he was patient one day he would catch a glimpse of her. 

When the weather started to change he wrapped up warmly and brought flasks of hot soup with him on the train.  The afternoon sun set too soon in the run-up to Christmas, and Edwin had to catch an earlier train home than usual when it became too dark to see people’s faces.

Then on the last Saturday afternoon before Christmas just as he had decided to go back, he saw her coming out of the station. She was laughing and holding hands with a man dressed in jeans and a long black overcoat, who carried a large holdall. Her long blonde hair was flying in the wind, and her head was close together with his as they shared some private joke that he would never be a part of.  At one point they stopped to kiss, and Edwin felt the anger start to rise

Putting his rucksack on his back he followed at a discreet distance as they turned right out of the station and hurried along the road.  It had started to rain slightly, and he saw the man put an umbrella over Beth’s hair.  They cuddled closer to keep out of the rain.  Edwin’s hands scrunched into fists as he walked, the knuckles white in his pockets.

Within about 10 minutes they opened a garden gate and walked up the path to a detached double-fronted house.  Edwin made a mental note of the number of the house and the name of the road.  With the hood to his jacket pulled well down over his head he walked on by, and saw a middle-aged woman open the front door and let the couple in.  His last vision was of the outside light picking out glints of gold in Beth’s hair as she embraced the older woman and stepped inside the house with the man.

Edwin thought long and hard on the train ride home.  He would have to see his social worker the following day, but then the supermarket would be closed for Christmas for a couple of days.  The festive season stretched out empty before him.  He had all the time in the world to plan just exactly how he was going to get Beth back again.  She had been taken so rudely from him all those years ago, but now he could finally see the light at the end of the tunnel, and once he had her he would never let her go again.

CHAPTER 63

“Aw Mum, you’re not bringing out those terrible decorations again that I made at primary school are you?”  Joss complained good-naturedly as his mother prepared to tie a paper bauble onto the Christmas tree that had been haphazardly coloured in many years before with a child’s red crayon.

“Of course!  Why wouldn’t I?”  Beth laughed. “This is very precious to me.  You’ve written ‘I love my mummy’ on it.”

“Oh God.”  Joss hid his head under a cushion.

“I think it’s lovely.”  Tara brought out another one from the box. “This one just says ‘Jos’ with one s.”

“It took him years to be able to spell Jocelyn.” 

“I am here you know.”  A muffled voice spoke from beneath the cushion.

“Come out you wimp.  Mum will be bringing my ones out in a minute.”  Amy plonked herself down on the sofa next to Joss. “I’ll never understand why we have to put a tree in our front room just because it’s Christmas.”

“Prince Albert started it back in the 1850’s I think.  Blame him.  Paul, here’s some of Amy’s.”  Beth held up a wonky-looking angel with a broken halo.

“Was she drunk at the time?”  Paul laughed as he unravelled a string of coloured lights.

“I was only eleven, so I don’t think so.  It was my first proper Christmas.” Amy was pensive and suddenly uncharacteristically quiet.