the long walk home

To say he had packed in a hurry would be an understatement. He’d stripped the pillowcase off the bed and flung his toilet bag and clothes into it.

He opened the window and judged the distance to the flat roof of the outhouse before swinging his legs over the sill and launching himself forward. He allowed his knees to bend on impact and put out one arm to steady himself, clutching the stuffed pillowcase in the other hand. The row of wheely bins abutting the back wall broke the drop from the roof of the outhouse to the ground.

He stood in the shadows for a moment to steady his breathing and listen for any movement. Satisfied he had not been heard, he slipped through the darkness of the yard. He threw the pillowcase over the boundary wall and scrambled after it. The ground dropped away towards the road on the other side of the wall; he hoped the bank would hide him from the house as he walked away.

He looked back before he turned the corner. The house stood silent, a darker mass in the darkness of the night. No lights shone in any of the windows; he breathed a sigh of relief; no one had noticed his escape.

He strode along with the pillowcase slung over his shoulder, the only sound in the silent streets the soft slap his slippers made on the pavement. He was a good walker, he had always enjoyed a moorland hike, but as time passed, he had to admit he was flagging. he thought he was heading in the right direction, but his anxiety grew as he walked streets he did not recognise. He must have been walking for more than an hour before the dawn broke and the lightening sky revealed how near he was to his destination.

“Just two more corners to go,” he thought, and his spirits lifted as he trod wearily up the garden path.

He tried the door handle. Locked. He patted ineffectually at the pockets of his dressing gown. Where the devil was the key? A faint wisp of panic arose. He rapped on the door and called out,

“Brenda, Brenda, I’ve forgotten my key again!”

Then he rapped again on the door.

He could hear Brenda walking along the hallway. Panic turned to irritation, ‘Damn the woman, she’s taking her time,’ he thought, and rapped again imperiously.

At last, the door opened.

“I’m back!” he beamed.

“Jack!” said Brenda, eying the pillowcase, his slippers and dressing gown.

“You’d better come in.”

“I could do with a cup of tea,” he said as he passed her and entered the kitchen.

“You sit down, and I’ll put the kettle on. Would you like some breakfast too? Toast and marmalade?”

“A bacon sandwich would be better,” he smiled winningly as he sat at the kitchen table.

Brenda moved around the kitchen, putting the kettle on, setting a place for him at the table. Jack felt his weariness and tension leave him. He was home. He lifted the mug of steaming tea to his lips and sighed with content.

“Here’s your bacon sandwich,” said Brenda, putting the plate down.

“Just how I like it!” he revelled in the scent of the bacon, the sight of the crusty white bread.

“I need to make a quick phone call,” said Brenda and moved into the hall.

Jack addressed his bacon sandwich and took no notice of the call Brenda was making. She came back into the kitchen, poured herself a cup of tea and sat down.

“Jack, there are a lot of people worried about you. They’re pleased to know you are here, but you will have to go back.”

“Go back? No, I’m not going back! This is my home.”

“Oh, Jack, we’ve talked about this. I can’t look after you properly anymore. You agreed to move to the care home.”

“Care home! Bah! They don’t look after me like you do. You’re my Brenda.”

He smiled, and she smiled back shakily, biting back tears. She took his hand and held it.

“I’m worn out, Jack! You know I promised to visit you every day, but I need my rest.”

The doorbell rang. Brenda went to answer it and came back into the kitchen with two uniformed policemen. They loomed over Jack, and he shrank back in his chair.

“Mr Lakenby, I’m P.C. Curruthers, this is P.C Smith. Do you mind if I sit down?”

He took out a notebook, while P.C Smith reported in quietly, using his radio.

“We’ve located the missing person …. Yes, he’s having his breakfast …. No, an ambulance won’t be necessary.”

Jack kept his eyes on the floor. He could see the policemen’s big boots covering much of the lino. His slippers, in comparison, looked insignificant. And muddy, he noticed now. He shuffled his feet backwards under his chair, out of sight.

“We are pleased you got here safely, Mr Lakenby. We just have a few questions for the record. How did you leave the care home? The outer door is secured at night.”

Jack looked up at him, “I climbed out of the window.”

Brenda gasped, “but you were on the first floor!”

“It wasn’t hard, I just jumped onto the flat roof and then to the ground.”

“You could have broken your leg!” said Brenda.

“That’s quite impressive, Mr Lakenby, at your age.”

Jack bristled at that, “I’ve still got it, I’m limber enough, you know.”

The policeman smiled, “I don’t doubt it. How did you make your way home?”

“Well, I walked, of course.”

“Five miles, at least, and you in your dressing gown and slippers,” said the policeman.

“I enjoy a good hike. I had my clothes with me,” Jack pointed to the pillowcase, “to change into.”

And wondered fleetingly why he had forgotten to do that. He had not intended to walk the whole way in his night things.

“Well, we can see that you are none the worse for the exercise, Mr Lakeby. So, after you’ve finished your breakfast, me and P.C. Smith here will run you back to the care home…”

“Whoa, wait a minute, I’m not going back. I’m staying with Brenda.”

“Darling, you can’t stay, I’ve explained why,” broke in Brenda, tears springing in her eyes again.

“Yes, yes, you said, you need a rest, you’re worn out. But I’ve got the solution,” He took her hand again.

“We’ll go up to London, stay the week, I’ll take you to dinner, and we can visit the theatre, it’ll be wonderful. We can stay at that hotel in Kensington; we went there for our silver wedding anniversary. What’s it called again?”

“The Kensington Hotel?” said Brenda faintly.

“Yes, that’s it! The Kensington Hotel!” Jack beamed, “What do you think?’’