Just following orders... (4) (i)

            A female officer drove me home in a police van - me sitting in the back, conversing with her through a grille.  She knew about the case.  She seemed sympathetic and non-judgemental.  It was a relief.

            "I think it's terrible what you people are going through.  I know it would turn me over."

            "Thanks."

            It was dark when we drew up.  In the headlights, I could see the front path glittering.  It was all as I'd left it.  I started to shake again.

            "Do you mind seeing me up to my flat, please?"

            "Of course not."

            I tried not to look as we stepped in.  I could feel the glass crunching underfoot.  We went straight up the stairs and she unlocked my door and gave me the keys.

            She placed a hand on my arm.  "Are you sure you'll be alright now?"

            "Yes," I said.  "Thank you so much."    

            The flat was as I'd last seen it - before my trip to the boiler room.  The four empty cans sat on the carpet by my desk.  The computer was in sleep mode.  I put the cans straight in the recycling bin.  Then I made myself a cup of tea and rang mum.  She answered with her usual cheery tone.  Thank goodness!  She knew nothing.

            "I half-expected you to pop in today," she said.

            "Sorry.  I've been tied up with stuff."

            "Everything alright?  Any news on your neighbour yet?"

            "Nothing yet.  All's fine.  I just wanted to touch base.  You alright?"

            "Yeah.  Had a good day.  I'm just watching the news."

            "Okay.  I'll leave you to it.  I'll call in tomorrow."

            Later that evening, Phil popped up to see if I was home.

            "I'm so sorry about last night, mate."

            "Forget it, buddy," he said.  "If I'd been drinking, I might have done the same.  It brings it out.  This thing's got us all wound up tight.  Something's gonna give eventually."

            "How's everyone else?"

            "I've only seen Mandy.  I don't think you'll get much sympathy from her.  But then she's up Graham's arse anyway, despite what she says about him."

            I knew they'd had a bit of a thing going before I moved in - or, at least, she thought they did.  She used to talk about Graham a lot.  She made it obvious she had some feelings.  They weren't reciprocated.

            "Be careful with her," he'd told me one day, pointing to his head.  "She doesn't take hostages."

            To be fair, I think he played her along a bit.

            After Phil left, I heard the familiar clip-clop sound of mule slippers on the landing above.  She came down and knocked.  I opened the door to a look that would kill, then chop up afterwards and bury separately.

            "Are you alright?" she said.

            "Yes, thanks.  I'm so sorry, Mandy."

            "Yes, well... it's a real fucking mess down there you've made.  None of us need this now on top of everything."

            "I know.  I'll clear up the front tomorrow."

            "What about the rest of it?"

            "I'm not allowed anywhere else in the building."

            "Why not?  The boiler room's the worst."

            "My bail conditions.  I can't go down there."

            "Oh..."  She changed down a bit.  "I suppose Muggins'll have to do it, then."

            "I'm sorry.  I'd do it if I could."

            "You're lucky he let you come back at all."

            "Yes, I know."

            "We'll all be homeless soon enough, anyway."

            She turned to the stairs to carry on down.

            "At least you're alright," she said, with her back to me.

           

            I sat down then with a notepad and pen.  I spent the rest of the evening hand-writing personal letters of apology to everyone in the building.  I explained things as honestly as I could.  I didn't ask for forgiveness because I didn't expect it.  I sealed each one in its own envelope and printed their names.  I took them downstairs and lined them up on the mail shelf.  Then I went to bed.  I slept all night.

            The next day, I called in sick.  Then I sat and waited until I was sure everyone was out.  I crept downstairs with a broom and dustpan.  The letters had all been taken.  It took me an hour to clear up the front.  Four panels were smashed completely out.  I taped some bin liners over the holes.  I kept my head down as best I could.  Fortunately, I saw no one.

            At lunchtime, I went and saw mum - taking an indirect route, with my hoodie pulled up.  I sat with her for an hour and had a sandwich.  We chatted about normal stuff.  It grounded me a bit.

            That afternoon, I went to bed again.  In the evening, I popped downstairs and saw a note had been left for me.  It was from Oliver.  He thanked me for my apology, but said he completely understood.  He said these things affect us all in different ways, and I shouldn't carry the burden of guilt too long.  He said he was always there if I needed anything.

            He was the one neighbour I'd not seen much of in the whole five years.  Half-a-dozen times, maybe.  I barely even knew him.  But his note gave me some hope.

            Apart from Phil, he was the only other one to acknowledge my apology, and offer forgiveness.

 

            Things returned to normal a bit after that.  As normal as possible, anyway.  But I knew everything had changed for me now.  Any day, I expected a call or a letter from the letting agency.  I only went out when I knew I wouldn't see anyone.  I dodged down side roads to avoid people.  I was scared of my own shadow.  Mandy softened a bit towards me, but not much.  There was stuff ticking away inside her.  I just had to be careful.

            About a week later, we heard that Graham had been released from custody, but we weren't allowed to have contact with him and he wasn't allowed to come near the premises.  We still had other visits - the police, the fire brigade, gas engineers.  A piece appeared in the local paper: a lurid tale of a 'house of horror.'  An un-named tenant had spoken about how we all felt.  From what was said, I could only guess it was Phil.  Mandy seemed to think it was me, though.  She door-stepped me about it. 

            "It's more than I dare do," I said.  "I don't know a thing about it."

            She shook her head.  "Someone's trying to stir up trouble for Graham."

            "But it only says what we already know.  And the newspapers always get hold of this stuff somehow."

            She wasn't convinced, I could tell.

 

            I had the number of Carl's cousin and kept in contact with him.   He was on my side, too.

            "What does he expect to happen?" he said.  "If he'd maintained things properly, we wouldn't have any of this grief."

            He said they were pressing the coroner, but the cause of death still wasn't being released.  Carl's mum was in bits.  They all were.  He kept a level tone, but it was clear they wanted hard justice.

            "We'll do everything we can to make sure he goes to prison for a long time," he said.

                       

            Christmas came.  As a further gesture of apology, I bought everyone some Christmas bits and a card.  I left them downstairs in Christmas carriers.  They all got taken.  Once again, only Phil and Oliver acknowledged it.  I was starting to feel like I was the culprit after all.  I was the guilty one.  One day, Mandy knocked my door to say the engineers were coming again.  She wanted to know if I could be there to let them in.  I was still off sick, so it wasn't a problem (the doctor had signed me off for three months).  While we were talking at my door, Nigel came down to go out.  He gave me an angry look as he passed.  He'd overheard what we were discussing.

            "If you ask me," he said, "some people are making too big a thing of this carbon monoxide business.  My flat's almost above the boiler room.  I was home all that week.  It never affected me."

            "What about what the police told us, then?"  I said.

            "What about it?  It doesn't mean anything yet.  It's just suspicion and gossip so far.  It's all being blown out of proportion."

            "I think you're right," said Mandy.

            I couldn't believe it.

            "But the copper told me what he'd seen on the tox report."

            Nigel just shrugged his shoulders and carried on down the stairs.

            "We'll see soon enough," he said.

(to be continued)