She wouldn’t stop screaming. It got to me. I couldn’t move. She was looking at me with her mouth wide open with these terrible sounds coming out and I was thinking she was starting to look ugly. The water was turning pink and I was willing her to stand up get out of the bath just do something. That was when they caught me.
I know what people think of me. It’s there in their eyes. Yes, I know that they’re thinking, “What a nerd,” as they turn their face away and smirk but you know what the worst part is? It’s when I’m ignored, totally ignored.
Well, I’ve got feelings. I’m a normal human being. I never had a chance to get out like other people, to make friends. I had to look after Mum. She wouldn’t let anyone else in the house. What do they know about all that stuff? I had to do everything for her. Everything.
Bloody social workers. What do they know about my life? But there, I’m not one to argue with people. I was born in that house. I’ve lived there all my life. What do they know? I’ve got the internet? Yeah, I’ve got a computer. It didn’t take me long to find my way round the internet.
Mum used to say. “You’re not so silly, Brian. Don’t let people put you down.”
So after the funeral, I started to get out. I like to know what’s going on. People-watching, they call it. I’ve got a bus pass and I’d get on the old bus to Richmond Park. I’d take an exercise book and my camera with me so people would think I’m a bird watcher. My Mum loved birds. I had an I-Spy book and I’d look them up for her.
Sometimes the regulars, as I call them, recognise me and that’s when my green anorak comes in handy; it’s camouflage. I like to think that I look like a park ranger. It doesn’t do for people thinking I’m just hanging around. The anorak used to make my Mum laugh.
“Action Man,” Mum would say. “You’re a funny boy, Brian.”
I always carry binoculars, too, just in case something interesting is happening. The things you see in Richmond Park! The things people get up to. If it’s raining and the grass is wet, I walk. I do a few turns round the car park. See what’s going on. I like to stay out until early afternoon then go home. Two slices of cheese on toast and I’m on the computer until teatime. I like to keep to a routine. I don’t like change.
I like others to keep in step too. That’s what I liked about her. She always wore a headband. She was like clockwork, always ran at the same time. Twelve-thirty. Lunchtime. You could tell the day of the week by her; a different coloured headband each day. Red on Monday, blue on Tuesday and always the same track suit. She wasn’t common like some girls.
That day was different. She smiled at me. I was walking towards her and stepped out of her way at the last moment. She didn’t miss a beat. Just carried on running. She takes a good picture. It’s easy with the new mobiles. People think I’m texting. It threw me, though when she smiled. My chest got tight and I started sweating under my arms. I turned round and walked after her, but at a distance. I could see her hair swinging left and right. Long blonde hair …
Then the next thing, she slowed as usual before turning into the car park, the Pembroke Lodge car park, but instead of going straight to her car, a red mini, she went into the restaurant. I was wringing wet by this time. I could see her through the window so I sat down at one of those picnic tables and made out I was talking into my mobile.
She was with a bloke in a suit. They were laughing at something and it made me feel a bit sick. He touched her hand, her left hand, as she got up. She moved away from the window out of my view, so I ran round and stood by the entrance as if I was waiting for someone.
I get funny turns sometimes and I felt a bit shaky.
Anyway, I wanted to know what was going on so after that each day I followed her car by, waiting at the point where I couldn’t keep up, where I’d lost her the day before, and kept her in sight as long as I could. That way I worked out her route home and where she lived.
She had a little basement flat and what was handy was when the light was on. I could see inside. I started having a stroll in the evening after Coronation Street. Sometimes when she was on her own, she forgot to pull the curtains but when he was there, they were kept shut.
There was a pot of geraniums on each step leading down to her front door. Bright red. I took a photo of them. I’ve got quite a collection on the computer, all in separate files. If it hadn’t been for that ginger cat, I’d have had more. Bloody cat sat on the doorstep curled up, pretending to be asleep, but as soon as I put my foot on the first step it went for me.
Some kids were hanging around and saw what happened. “Oi, nonce. Leave the cat alone.”
A few days after that the cat went missing and I found a way round the back of the house; if I leaned up over the top of the gate I could lift the latch. I bought a black tracksuit in Milletts and a balaclava to match. I frighten myself sometimes. It’s the suspense. I get excited and my heart races. I took to keeping some of Mum’s boiled sweets in my pocket to calm myself down.
I liked standing in her garden. There was a frosted glass window next to her kitchen door but anyone looking up close could see in, into the bathroom. I liked to watch her. She’d fill the bath up from the tap then put extra hot water in from the kettle and even outside in the garden I could smell her bath oil.
The day I got caught, she had a radio on. I could hear it. Jim Reeves singing something slow and soppy. As she walked into the bathroom, I saw she was carrying a glass of wine. She lifted her leg and I forgot about the flash as she turned and saw me at the window. She screamed as she fell into the bath and I heard the glass smash against the side as she fell.
The next thing, someone knocked me to the ground and my face was shoved into a lavender bush. I told them I wouldn’t have hurt her for the world. But they didn’t believe me.
I know what people think of me. It’s there in their eyes. Yes, I know that they’re thinking, “What a nerd,” as they turn their face away and smirk but you know what the worst part is? It’s when I’m ignored, totally ignored.
Well, I’ve got feelings. I’m a normal human being. I never had a chance to get out like other people, to make friends. I had to look after Mum. She wouldn’t let anyone else in the house. What do they know about all that stuff? I had to do everything for her. Everything.
Bloody social workers. What do they know about my life? But there, I’m not one to argue with people. I was born in that house. I’ve lived there all my life. What do they know? I’ve got the internet? Yeah, I’ve got a computer. It didn’t take me long to find my way round the internet.
Mum used to say. “You’re not so silly, Brian. Don’t let people put you down.”
So after the funeral, I started to get out. I like to know what’s going on. People-watching, they call it. I’ve got a bus pass and I’d get on the old bus to Richmond Park. I’d take an exercise book and my camera with me so people would think I’m a bird watcher. My Mum loved birds. I had an I-Spy book and I’d look them up for her.
Sometimes the regulars, as I call them, recognise me and that’s when my green anorak comes in handy; it’s camouflage. I like to think that I look like a park ranger. It doesn’t do for people thinking I’m just hanging around. The anorak used to make my Mum laugh.
“Action Man,” Mum would say. “You’re a funny boy, Brian.”
I always carry binoculars, too, just in case something interesting is happening. The things you see in Richmond Park! The things people get up to. If it’s raining and the grass is wet, I walk. I do a few turns round the car park. See what’s going on. I like to stay out until early afternoon then go home. Two slices of cheese on toast and I’m on the computer until teatime. I like to keep to a routine. I don’t like change.
I like others to keep in step too. That’s what I liked about her. She always wore a headband. She was like clockwork, always ran at the same time. Twelve-thirty. Lunchtime. You could tell the day of the week by her; a different coloured headband each day. Red on Monday, blue on Tuesday and always the same track suit. She wasn’t common like some girls.
That day was different. She smiled at me. I was walking towards her and stepped out of her way at the last moment. She didn’t miss a beat. Just carried on running. She takes a good picture. It’s easy with the new mobiles. People think I’m texting. It threw me, though when she smiled. My chest got tight and I started sweating under my arms. I turned round and walked after her, but at a distance. I could see her hair swinging left and right. Long blonde hair …
Then the next thing, she slowed as usual before turning into the car park, the Pembroke Lodge car park, but instead of going straight to her car, a red mini, she went into the restaurant. I was wringing wet by this time. I could see her through the window so I sat down at one of those picnic tables and made out I was talking into my mobile.
She was with a bloke in a suit. They were laughing at something and it made me feel a bit sick. He touched her hand, her left hand, as she got up. She moved away from the window out of my view, so I ran round and stood by the entrance as if I was waiting for someone.
I get funny turns sometimes and I felt a bit shaky.
Anyway, I wanted to know what was going on so after that each day I followed her car by, waiting at the point where I couldn’t keep up, where I’d lost her the day before, and kept her in sight as long as I could. That way I worked out her route home and where she lived.
She had a little basement flat and what was handy was when the light was on. I could see inside. I started having a stroll in the evening after Coronation Street. Sometimes when she was on her own, she forgot to pull the curtains but when he was there, they were kept shut.
There was a pot of geraniums on each step leading down to her front door. Bright red. I took a photo of them. I’ve got quite a collection on the computer, all in separate files. If it hadn’t been for that ginger cat, I’d have had more. Bloody cat sat on the doorstep curled up, pretending to be asleep, but as soon as I put my foot on the first step it went for me.
Some kids were hanging around and saw what happened. “Oi, nonce. Leave the cat alone.”
A few days after that the cat went missing and I found a way round the back of the house; if I leaned up over the top of the gate I could lift the latch. I bought a black tracksuit in Milletts and a balaclava to match. I frighten myself sometimes. It’s the suspense. I get excited and my heart races. I took to keeping some of Mum’s boiled sweets in my pocket to calm myself down.
I liked standing in her garden. There was a frosted glass window next to her kitchen door but anyone looking up close could see in, into the bathroom. I liked to watch her. She’d fill the bath up from the tap then put extra hot water in from the kettle and even outside in the garden I could smell her bath oil.
The day I got caught, she had a radio on. I could hear it. Jim Reeves singing something slow and soppy. As she walked into the bathroom, I saw she was carrying a glass of wine. She lifted her leg and I forgot about the flash as she turned and saw me at the window. She screamed as she fell into the bath and I heard the glass smash against the side as she fell.
The next thing, someone knocked me to the ground and my face was shoved into a lavender bush. I told them I wouldn’t have hurt her for the world. But they didn’t believe me.