death.”
“Why did you go out in the snow?”
“Saw the chance — took it!”
“What happened out in the woods — do you remember?”
“Guards caught us, brought us back. Next time, eh?”
He leaned across and put his mouth close to her ear. Sarah could smell his breath, stale, and — incongruously — a pungent odour of cheap aftershave: “Word is — there’s a tunnel on the go.”
He tapped his nose — Sarah nodded back to him as if she knew it must be kept secret.
“So, were you trying to escape, Reg?”
“Been here bleedin years, got to get out.”
“Don’t you like it here?”
The old man suddenly grabbed her arm, his hand tight.
“Can you get me out? Can you? I’ll pay you! I’ve got millions! I have!”
“I’m sorry Reg, I can’t really do anything …” said Sarah, feeling totally powerless. “Maybe if you—”
But Reg got up suddenly and pushed his chair back. Without another glance at her, he stepped over her legs and headed for the door.
She watched, bemused, as he pulled open the door. Then he turned and clapped his hands together, the sound echoing in the little chapel.
“Come on! Chop chop! Mess dinner tonight!”
She watched him scan the room.
“No takers? Your loss mateys, your loss!”
And then he was gone.
Sarah wasn’t sure she’d learned anything new. But she knew one thing — she and Jack had been right to use the word ‘escape’. Archy and Reg had certainly been escaping — but from what?
Jack peered at the grainy CCTV footage and used the remote to fast-forward. The screen, split in four, showed different angles of the exterior of Broadmead Grange.
Four different shots of snow falling, thought Jack. Some hope …
“You’re lucky we’ve still got that, you know,” said Shirley, placing a chipped mug of tea on the office table next to him. “If it hadn’t been for the power cut, it would have been recorded over by now.”
Jack didn’t take his eyes off the monitor, but he was aware that the sister had taken her seat at the other side of the desk and was watching over his shoulder.
“Appreciate you letting me see it,” he said.
“Like I told you — we don’t have anything to hide,” said Shirley.
“Right. And I just want to be sure in my own mind that none of your staff is responsible for the death of that old man.”
“Judge and jury, are you?”
“We have a friend here in the home — just looking after her interests.”
“Don’t think I don’t know who you and your friend are, Mr. Brennan. Cherringham’s own private detectives. I just wonder who’s paying you. And whether I should tell my boss what you’re up to.”
“Tell who you like,” said Jack. “Nice tea, by the way — thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Jack looked at the time code in the top corner of the screen. Still only five p.m. on the evening Archy and Reg fled into the snow.
On the screen he saw the front door to the home suddenly open — he paused the tape and hit the play button.
In the grainy playback, he could see a stream of people in coats and hats emerging from the Home — some on their own, some in small groups. With their heads down against the blizzard, they headed out of frame.
“Lot of people leaving,” said Jack.
“Five p.m. shift finishing. That’s them heading up to catch the twenty past train,” said Shirley.
“Very noble of them to leave just as the blizzard was coming in,” said Jack, speeding up the tape and watching the figures scuttle away from the building.
“How noble would you be on minimum wage, Mr. Brennan, with your family at home waiting for you?”
“Touché,” said Jack.
“Besides — the night shift were due in on the next train.”
“Except they never turned up, did they? So where’s your emergency cover huh?”
“We didn’t expect to be snowed in, so we didn’t hire any.”
“You don’t say? Nobody listens to the weather forecasts huh? Or did Mr. Leacock refuse to pay for extra
“Why did you go out in the snow?”
“Saw the chance — took it!”
“What happened out in the woods — do you remember?”
“Guards caught us, brought us back. Next time, eh?”
He leaned across and put his mouth close to her ear. Sarah could smell his breath, stale, and — incongruously — a pungent odour of cheap aftershave: “Word is — there’s a tunnel on the go.”
He tapped his nose — Sarah nodded back to him as if she knew it must be kept secret.
“So, were you trying to escape, Reg?”
“Been here bleedin years, got to get out.”
“Don’t you like it here?”
The old man suddenly grabbed her arm, his hand tight.
“Can you get me out? Can you? I’ll pay you! I’ve got millions! I have!”
“I’m sorry Reg, I can’t really do anything …” said Sarah, feeling totally powerless. “Maybe if you—”
But Reg got up suddenly and pushed his chair back. Without another glance at her, he stepped over her legs and headed for the door.
She watched, bemused, as he pulled open the door. Then he turned and clapped his hands together, the sound echoing in the little chapel.
“Come on! Chop chop! Mess dinner tonight!”
She watched him scan the room.
“No takers? Your loss mateys, your loss!”
And then he was gone.
Sarah wasn’t sure she’d learned anything new. But she knew one thing — she and Jack had been right to use the word ‘escape’. Archy and Reg had certainly been escaping — but from what?
Jack peered at the grainy CCTV footage and used the remote to fast-forward. The screen, split in four, showed different angles of the exterior of Broadmead Grange.
Four different shots of snow falling, thought Jack. Some hope …
“You’re lucky we’ve still got that, you know,” said Shirley, placing a chipped mug of tea on the office table next to him. “If it hadn’t been for the power cut, it would have been recorded over by now.”
Jack didn’t take his eyes off the monitor, but he was aware that the sister had taken her seat at the other side of the desk and was watching over his shoulder.
“Appreciate you letting me see it,” he said.
“Like I told you — we don’t have anything to hide,” said Shirley.
“Right. And I just want to be sure in my own mind that none of your staff is responsible for the death of that old man.”
“Judge and jury, are you?”
“We have a friend here in the home — just looking after her interests.”
“Don’t think I don’t know who you and your friend are, Mr. Brennan. Cherringham’s own private detectives. I just wonder who’s paying you. And whether I should tell my boss what you’re up to.”
“Tell who you like,” said Jack. “Nice tea, by the way — thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Jack looked at the time code in the top corner of the screen. Still only five p.m. on the evening Archy and Reg fled into the snow.
On the screen he saw the front door to the home suddenly open — he paused the tape and hit the play button.
In the grainy playback, he could see a stream of people in coats and hats emerging from the Home — some on their own, some in small groups. With their heads down against the blizzard, they headed out of frame.
“Lot of people leaving,” said Jack.
“Five p.m. shift finishing. That’s them heading up to catch the twenty past train,” said Shirley.
“Very noble of them to leave just as the blizzard was coming in,” said Jack, speeding up the tape and watching the figures scuttle away from the building.
“How noble would you be on minimum wage, Mr. Brennan, with your family at home waiting for you?”
“Touché,” said Jack.
“Besides — the night shift were due in on the next train.”
“Except they never turned up, did they? So where’s your emergency cover huh?”
“We didn’t expect to be snowed in, so we didn’t hire any.”
“You don’t say? Nobody listens to the weather forecasts huh? Or did Mr. Leacock refuse to pay for extra
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