Knight & Culverhouse Box Set - Books 7-9

Chapter 13

13

It felt so good to be free, John Lucas thought, as he poured himself a cup of tea. It was these little luxuries that he would come to appreciate in the outside world: making a cup of tea whenever he wanted one, perhaps adding a chocolate biscuit or two, looking out across the town.

He wouldn’t stay here for long. The house held too many memories for him. It had been his family home once, but after the death of his mother while he was inside, the place didn’t hold the same charm anymore. It held memories — plenty of those. And whilst it had been kept clean and tidy thanks to his mother’s regular cleaner staying on after she’d died — paid for through provision in her will — it was definitely dated.

He’d need to do a lot of work to get rid of the detailed flowery wallpaper and wood-chip ceilings. The bathroom and kitchen could do with being ripped out and totally re-done too, but there wasn’t much point. The money left in his mother’s will would barely cover a few carpets. He thanked his lucky stars his release date had come up before the money had run out for the cleaner, else the whole place would be suitable only for demolition.

Valentina was a good worker, it seemed. She’d definitely done a good job of keeping the house neat and tidy. It was a shame she wasn’t a painter and decorator, too.

Nonetheless, selling this place should bring him in a few quid, he thought. He hadn’t been keeping up to date with house prices recently, but he reckoned it’d probably fetch just shy of three hundred grand, which would all be his seeing as his mum had paid the mortgage off years ago.

Maybe he’d get an estate agent round later in the week. He had enough to be worrying about in the meantime. He’d get them to handle it, put it up for sale, get him a buyer. He could use some of the cash to buy himself a flat or a small house and keep the rest as a buffer while he tried to move on with his life. He could certainly do with a job — he’d have overheads that the cash buffer wouldn’t maintain. He wouldn’t need much, but it had to be something he’d enjoy. The probation service had paired him up with a shoe repairs company who often took on ex-offenders, but he wasn’t sure if he’d be happy there long-term. And his happiness had to come first. After everything that had happened, he was going to spend his time looking after number one.

He’d learnt a lot on the inside. That’s the sort of thing that happens when you’re given time to think. Especially when you’re given eleven years to think. By the end of it all he’d just wanted to get out, wanted to make a fresh start and try again. He’d still be under the watchful eye of the authorities — he’d have a probation officer visiting him regularly — but to all intents and purposes he was a free man. Certainly freer than he’d been a day or two earlier, anyway.

He’d done what he’d needed to do to come to terms with everything that had happened. Forgive and forget, they all said. That had never seemed possible. But sometimes — just sometimes — something would happen that’d mean it all became irrelevant. Events had a funny way of putting things in perspective. And now he was able to move on with his life, free from the bitterness and anger that had consumed him for so many years.

True enough, the decision had been his. It had been a spur of the moment thing. He didn’t feel he’d been left with any option. It was the only way out. At least, it had seemed that way at the time. Soon enough, the testosterone and adrenaline had died down and he’d been able to see that it was a bad move. But still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that his hand had been forced, that he didn’t have another option. And when all was said and done, that decision had been forced upon him by Freddie bloody Galloway, whether he liked it or not.

He started to feel the anger rising again, then told himself that he didn’t need to feel angry any more. This was all over. He was able to move on now, to become a bigger and better person. He couldn’t let what happened all those years ago rule his life any more. If he did, it threatened to consume him and take over. Now he was able to make a clean break. Now his destiny was in his own hands.

He sipped at the hot mug of tea, not minding the fact that it was scalding his lips. To be able to have a piping hot cup of tea was a luxury compared to the lukewarm s**t he’d been given in prison. What he did mind, though, was that his doorbell had just rung, quickly followed by a knock at the door.

His probation officer wasn’t due to visit until tomorrow. What concerned him the most was that many of the old gang still knew where he lived. He’d never been afraid of that, never worried about hiding it. There was honour amongst thieves, as the saying went, and at the end of the day no-one had any reason to hold a grudge against him. But spending his life mixed up with bad people had made him unavoidably paranoid.

He went to the curtains in the living room and peered out through the gap, looking at the two figures standing by his front door. In that instant, he knew this wasn’t going to be good.