[the next day]

Jennifer escorted me into the anonymous building once again. She sat me down in the same room that we’d used the day before.

“I’m sorry about my reaction yesterday. What you said took me by surprise and… I couldn’t help myself smile. I’m afraid that it is a trait of mine that goes back to when I was a child. According to my shrink, it is my way of deflecting unexpected news.”

I didn’t respond. Frankly, I didn’t believe one word she’d said but I was going to hold my counsel for the time being.

"Can we get on? I just don't feel comfortable here. I've grown used to always being on the move."

Jennifer sighed.
“I can’t pretend to understand why this is but I have seen the same behaviour when I was on the beat. Many of the homeless couldn’t stay in a hostel for more than a couple of days no matter how bad the weather was outside, they just had to be on the move.”

“Yeah. I call it wanderlust. The lust to be out wandering the highways and byways and not penned in by four walls. I never thought that I would become like other ‘people of the road’ but I seem to have fallen in with some bad company like that. I've not been sleeping in the bed in my room but on the floor. It is what I've become used to."

“It is your room so you can do as you please in it,” she replied.
I did notice a slight shake of her head as she spoke.

“As long as I don’t wreck it?” I answered smiling.

“There is no chance of that. I don’t want to burn my bridges and all that but it seems that a couple of days is all I can manage inside at the moment. My dirty laundry has been washed but some of it is well past its use-by date."

Then I realised what I’d said.
“Sorry, you don’t need to know that sort of stuff.”

We got down to finishing up documenting my story. She was very good at teasing information from me especially the things that I didn't think were that important. It didn't take long to realise that even the smallest snippet of information could prove very important in the long run.

We wrapped up just before lunch, at which point, I said,
“How do I get back to my home turf?”

My words seemed to take her by surprise.

“Is that what you want?”

"It is the area that I know. Yorkshire is like a foreign country to me, I'm afraid. I'm much more comfortable back in Shropshire.”

Jennifer thought for a few seconds.
“I’ll see what I can arrange even if it means that I’ll take you there myself.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that.”

Jennifer disappeared leaving me alone in a featureless room. The decor was very bland in that it was all beige. There was no natural light. That was something that I'd grown to really appreciate over these past few months. I'd made a vow to myself that if I got myself back to something approaching normality, I'd make sure that natural light would flood my homes in the future but that was very much wishful thinking at the present time.

---

I guessed that it was more than an hour later that Jennifer returned. I'd spent the time sitting patiently with my eyes closed. Learning the art of doing nothing had been one of the first things I'd done once I'd been thrown out and told 'don't ever come back!'. The ability to spend hours sitting patiently for a food van to arrive or a hostel to open became an essential tool for me. Others on the streets would spend their time drinking themselves into oblivion. That was a path that I was determined not to follow.

I spent my idle time thinking about the times in my life when things had been different and mostly a heck of a lot better than what I was going through at the moment.

Jennifer smiled at me when she came through the door carrying what appeared to be lunch in a large paper bag. That was both good and bad. Good in that I was getting hungry and bad in that it indicated that I'd be here for a good few hours yet.

“Do you want to eat now or on the road?”

Her words surprised me for a second or so.

“Does this mean that I’m going back to Shropshire?”

“Yes. I’m done here for a few days. I have some inquiries to do based upon what you and others have told us.”

I smiled back at her.
"On the road, if you don't mind. I'd like to get back before it gets dark so that I can find a place to sleep tonight."

She looked a bit offended.
“You could stay at the flat of my friend if you like? That’s where I’ll be staying.”

"And that is exactly why I need to go back onto the streets. As I told you, I know that my wife is having me watched. not all the time but often enough to know that if I disappear for too long, then she'll send out the dogs. The first time I worked at the chicken farm for a week, I was beaten when I returned to town. They demanded to know where I'd been. I know that they check up on me. There was a black Audi parked in a field near the farm a few times the last time I was there. I've seen that same car around the town."

“I remember you telling me that.”

She thumbed through her notes.
"Here it is. We ran the plates and discovered that they are cloned from a Renault Clio that has never left Scotland."

“Why don’t you get your people to stop it and… you know arrest those in the car? Who knows what you will find in the back?”

“One day perhaps but we don’t want to tip our hand.”

I was about to say, ‘I understand’ when Jennifer picked up the paper bag and opened the door for me. That was a clear statement of intent. I took the hint.

---

“Can you stop the car here?” I said to Jennifer as we neared my home patch.

“Why here?”

"The Nature Reserve where you found me is just over that hill. That's where I was last seen heading. It would seem a little suspicious to appear in town coming from the other direction."

Jennifer stopped the car at the entrance to a field. She smiled at me.

"It seems to me, that you are more than a little paranoid overall about this thing with your wife, aren’t you? From the help you have given, it won’t be difficult to persuade my bosses to hide you somewhere well away from here.”

“And have her wondering where I’d gone. I’m far safer being where I can be seen as if nothing has happened. I fully expect to be paid a visit from certain people when I get back in town tomorrow. They’ll want to know where I’ve been. I can tell them the truth and explain that I have slept in the hide for a few nights. I can even tell them where I buried my excrement. It is the little details like that, that make all the difference.”

I went to open the car door but stopped.
“To be honest, I don’t know why she hasn’t had me topped. Then all that lovely money from the insurance will be hers free and clear. After all, the local ‘plod’ won’t put much effort into investigating the death of a homeless man especially if it is made to look like a suicide.”

Jennifer nodded.
“That thought has crossed my mind once or twice.”
Then she said,
“You have my phone number. If you feel at risk, then call.”

“Yeah. I have it written in anagram form in my pack. I’ll call provided I can find a public phone that works. They are few and far between these days.”

I didn’t wait for her to reply as I got out of the car.
“Thanks for the hospitality Jennifer but please keep your distance from me. If you need to speak to me in future, please get the local uniforms to pick me up and arrest me. Plain sight and all that."

She grinned.
“Are you sure that you shouldn’t be doing my job?”

I laughed.
"Reading far too many crime novels as a child is my excuse, and I'm sticking to it."

I shut the door and stepped away from the car. Jennifer gave me a little wave and left me in the gathering gloom of the evening.

The light lasted long enough for me to reach the Nature Reserve. The 'hide' wasn't locked or occupied by another homeless person, so I settled down for the night.

---

I still had a little money left from my work on the farm, so I bought myself some food when I returned to town the next morning. I made a point of sitting on my favourite bench to eat my breakfast. I washed it down with a paper cup of now lukewarm tea. I sat with my back to her office on the other side of the river. She'd seen me sitting this way before. I could not be accused of being a peeping tom or a voyeur. All I could see was the public park and a children's playground on the far side. That was over 100 metres away, which I hoped was far enough away to not be accused of suspicious behaviour although I'd not put it past her to do something like that just out of spite.

A couple of the other homeless people stopped to pass some time. I knew that they were hoping to get some booze from me. Once they understood that I didn’t have any, they quickly moved on.

The day passed without incident. Towards evening, it came onto rain. That was my cue to look for a shelter for the night. All the usual places were already taken so I headed for the preserved railway and the railway carriage that had served me so well in the past.

My luck was in, and the last compartment of the carriage was open. It seemed that no one else had discovered the place since I was last around. I was soon settled in for the night. My last task was to lock the door. All this needed was a square section key. I’d made one when I was last working on the Farm. The manager was kind enough to find me a piece of 10mm square steel rod. I spent one lunchtime filing it down into a taper so that it would fit the carriage door. The last thing I wanted was someone else bursting in on me while I was sleeping.

I was very thankful that I had this little hideaway that night. The rain lashed down until shortly before dawn.

---

The downpour that lasted most of the night had made the footpaths a quagmire in many places. It seemed that I’d collected most of it on my way back into town. At least the place had been freshened up with most of the atmospheric pollution washed down the drain. I used a little of my remaining money to buy myself a tea from the vendor at the bus station.

Drinking hot strong tea on an empty stomach is not always a good idea. Today was one of those, and it ran right through me. I needed to find a decent toilet and in a hurry.

I knew where the available toilets were in town, and they were all too far away given the pains coming from my intestine, which left me with no choice, I had to hope that Jennifer was staying at her friend's flat.

I made it to the front door, pressed the intercom button and prayed, prayed that Jennifer was at home.

The seconds passed by and there was silence. I was about to decide to either press the button again or leg it to a back alley and do my business when…

“Yes?”

“Jennifer? It’s Craig. I need to use your toilet and quickly.”

The door buzzed, and I was in.

She met me at the top of the stairs, but I dashed right past her and into the bathroom.

I’d just made it before the tea caused my bowels to erupt.

I felt like shit, but I cleaned the toilet once I was done and opened the window to let it air. The place stank, and she didn't need to clean up after me. As I kept telling myself, I do have at least a little pride left.

I stood for a few seconds in front of the open window and took a few deep breaths. I could see right down the street to the river and beyond. I knew where I'd rather be at the moment but I was here, and I had to say thank you to Jennifer before I left.

As I went to turn away, I noticed what was unmistakably a camera lens pointing at me. I froze for a second as I closed my eyes and took stock of the situation. It was clear that someone was keeping the flat under surveillance.

I took a few more deep breaths with my eyes closed before closing the window and leaving the room.

Jennifer was in the kitchen nursing a cup of something.

"Sorry about that I said. Drinking a mug of strong tea on an empty stomach ran right through me."

She smiled.
“Glad to be of service.”

She'd been writing out a shopping list, so I grabbed the pad and wrote,
"There is a camera pointed right at the flat. I opened the window in the toilet, and there it was. There might be a bug in here…"

The smile disappeared from her face in a flash. She took the pen from me and wrote.
“Gotcha.”

“Thanks for the use of the facilities. I’ll let you get back to your day. Sorry for bothering you.”

“No problem.”

I picked up my rucksack and headed back to the street. I had to get out of town.

---

I tried my hardest not to look back to see if anyone was following me, but I did a slow and steady walk down to the river, along the path past my favourite bench, and after crossing the river, I carried on along the main road to the south. I'd been this way a couple of times, and I knew of a footpath that went off in a south-westerly direction about a mile from town.

As I walked along the footpath by the side of the fairly busy road, I tried to remember where the footpath eventually ended up. I'd spent a good number of hours in the public library pouring over large-scale maps of the area when I first became homeless. It is surprising what you can learn from large scale maps.

Slowly, the memory of the map came back, and I recalled that if I took the right turns and didn’t rush, I’d end up over the border in Wales not that far from the border town of Knighton in a couple of days. That seemed a safer option for me at the moment.

I still didn't look back until well after I'd turned off the main road onto the footpath. The first half mile or so was very boggy. In the end, I had to stop to try to remove some of the mud from my boots. As I wiped them on the wet grass at the side of the path, I looked back along the way I'd come.

Parked right at the entrance to the path was a black car. I guessed that it was the same black Audi that had been following me recently. It was parked facing back towards the town and had the passenger window wound down. I could make out a figure inside, but that was it. I had to assume that I was being photographed. There was nothing I could do about it, it was a public place after all.

There was nothing I wanted to do about it. The ‘ugly duckling’ was getting out of town. I’d finally taken the hint and left. Seeing that camera lens pointed at me from across the street had been the last straw.

I returned to fighting the muddy path. At least the weather was dry and looking at the clouds to the southwest, it seemed that I might get through the day before it rained again.

It was around midday when I emerged from a small wood where I came to a junction with a major footpath. The signpost said that this was the 'Offa's Dyke' Path. Luckily for me, there was a small section of the local Ordnance Survey map attached to the path sign. I could see that if I headed along the path, I'd pass through a couple of small hamlets before crossing a disused railway. I’d found that sleeping under old railway bridges generally kept me pretty dry. The downside was that the wind could whip through them making them not only draughty but very cold. Cold and dry was preferable to being cold and wet.

The mere fact that I was also heading in the general direction of Welshpool, made the decision about which way to go an easy one. It wasn’t Knighton but was just as good in my opinion. I managed a small smile as I remembered that there was a narrow-gauge railway in the town. Railway carriages were fast becoming my favourite places to sleep.

The rain held off, and there was no sign of that black car so my spirits were high as darkness approached. My good luck was holding as I descended onto the old railway track. The farmer on the other side had blocked the bridge using a pile of earth and other rubble. That gave me a decent windbreak.

As I settled down for the night, my rumbling stomach told me that I’d not had anything to eat for more than a day. I would need to find a shop the next morning so that I could purchase some food. It would be even better if there was a Post Office nearby. I could draw my benefits from one using my card. I fell asleep thinking that things might just be starting to look up.

The next morning, I walked into the village of Pant. Sure, enough there was a shop plus Post Office. I drew some money and stocked up on food that could easily be consumed while on the move.

As I left the shop, I saw the front of the local paper. It was the latest edition. The headline attracted me. It read,

“Police Officer Attacked. Homeless man suspected.”

I bought a copy of the paper and left the shop.

The story made two things clear to me. Firstly, the officer concerned was Jennifer and the second was that it was me that they were after. I hadn't done it, but people put two and two together and made five thousand. The report said that the officer was in Hospital in Shrewsbury in a serious but stable condition. I had to hope that she pulled through.

The more I thought about it, the sadder I became. I spent another night under the railway bridge trying to decide what to do.

The next morning dawned cold and wet with a biting wind from the north. As the Scots say, it was a 'dreech’ day. I knew what I had to do and hoped that eventually, people would believe me.

I carried on southwest towards the town of Welshpool. I kept to the paths and minor roads. It was late afternoon when I entered the town. I found the Police Station and buzzed on the door.

"I think I'm the homeless man, that you are looking for in relation to the attack on the Police Officer on Oswestry."

Two uniformed officers came out of the building and took me inside.

At least it was warm and dry inside the building. Plus, there was the prospect of getting a hot drink, and with a bit of luck, something to eat.

[to be continued]