Just following orders... (4) (ii)

            In January, the police informed us that the boiler had been tested extensively and found to be not at fault.  There were no leaks, no problems with ventilation.  It was fine and would be reconnected.  Graham was also allowed to return to the premises.  I was stunned.  Phil came up and said it made no sense to him, either.

            "I know how I felt," he said.  "As soon as that boiler was off, I felt better."

            "Same here."

            He shook his head, angrily.

            "Something stinks about this," he said.  "Something's not right."

            "We'll just have to wait for that coroner's report, I suppose," I said.

 

            A couple of nights later, I heard Graham's car draw up outside.  He let himself in.  I opened my door quietly and stood on the landing listening.  I heard him tut-tutting as he looked around downstairs.   He stepped down to the boiler room.

            "Jesus Christ!"

            That moment, I heard Mandy's door open upstairs.  I ducked back in as she clip-clopped down.  I could hear their voices, but not what was said.  She was down there for quite a while.  When she came back up, she knocked on my door.

            "Graham's downstairs surveying the damage," she said.  She didn't bother to hide the gloat.

            "And what has he said about Carl?" I said.  "What about that damage?"

            The gloat disappeared.

            "I don't know.  You'll have to ask him yourself."

           

            I never got the chance.  Thankfully, he stayed away from me.  He came and went pretty much as usual after that.  A glazier came and replaced the windows.  Everything got fixed.  Then one day I got a call from a D.S. on Graham's case.  Graham was prepared to forget the whole business if I paid for the damage.  The D.S. read me a list.  It included damage I hadn't caused. 

            "Well, he claims you did.  It's your word against his.  You could take it up with him, but I'm not sure that's a good idea in the circumstances."

            The final bill was £1,500.  A complete joke.  I knew what those windows cost.  He could have done it himself.  But, of course... he wasn't qualified!

            "I don't have anything like that kind of money," I said.

            "I take it that's a 'no', then."

            "Yes," I said.  "I'm afraid so."

 

            A week later, I got a two-month notice of eviction.  It was all I'd really expected.  After this, though, I didn't want to stay.  It was the push I needed.  When I told Phil, he said he was moving, too.  He'd been offered a council flat.

            "You should get in touch with them.  If you're threatened with homelessness, they'll find you something."

            I decided to do that.  But almost immediately, I saw a flat advertised nearby.  It was cheap and comfortable.  The agency applied for references, and I held my breath.  But then they rang and said it was all fine.  Within a month, I had moved.  I took the keys back to Graham's agency on my final day.  I didn't ask for my £500 deposit back.  It was some recompense to him - not that I thought he deserved it.  But it made me feel better about the whole thing.  I hoped I could put it behind me and move on.

 

            I saw Mandy around the town a few times afterwards, but she ignored me.  I had a coffee now and then with Phil.  He was settled in his new flat.  He was glad to be out of that place, too.

            One day, he said he'd bumped into Mandy.  She was still there.  Graham had fixed the place up and had got new tenants.  Apparently, she'd said that Graham was still considering prosecuting me.

            "Good luck to him on that," I said.

            "That's not all," he said.  "She's also saying that Carl was a druggie, and that he'd overdosed."

            "What?  How the fuck would she know?"

            "You know what she's like," he said.  "She'll make anything up if it suits her. She certainly didn't get it from the coroner.  There's still no news.  It's his family I feel sorry for, the poor sods."

           

            I got back in touch with Carl's cousin.  They were desperately frustrated.

            "We can't rest until this is settled.  We've heard he's back there.  How is he getting away with it?"

            "Good question," I said.  "We were told the place was a death-trap.  He must know the right people or something."

            "His time will come."

 

            But it didn't.  That May, I finally read the coroner's verdict in the local paper.  Cause of death: heart attack.  It also mentioned that a small trace of cocaine was found in Carl's bloodstream - though no evidence of the drug was found at the premises.  There was no mention at all about carbon monoxide.

            Heart attack.

            He was 35.  He was a fit bloke.  I knew that meant nothing, but...   

            I got on the phone to the coroner's office. 

            "I've given my verdict, Mr Chadwick," she said, after I'd said my piece.

            "But the Detective Inspector who took my statement said he'd seen the toxicology report.  He said he was in no doubt.  The level of carbon monoxide in Carl's bloodstream was consistent with him having been in a fire."

            She raised her voice.  "Then he should not have said that, and I have not the slightest idea what he was talking about.  I saw no such evidence myself, and said no such thing in my report.  I say again... I've given my verdict.  You'll have to take it up with the Detective Inspector yourself."

 

            I still had his number.  I gave him a ring.  I left a message on his voicemail.  It wasn't returned.  I tried again with the same result.  Then I stopped.  There was no point.  It was over now.  The coroner said so.  Done and dusted.  It was his word against mine.  As with so much else.

 

*

            Eight years on...

 

            Graham still owns the house.  All the flats are now taken.  Mandy still lives there.  Oliver, too.

            I've only seen Graham once since then.  Four years ago, I was on a bus going along the High Street.  I glimpsed him coming out of a furniture shop with some blinds he'd just bought.  He had a young chap with him.  A new tenant, I guessed.

            I still see Phil.  He's as stumped as I am about it.

            "There's something dodgy about the whole thing.  None of it makes sense.  I don't suppose we'll ever get to the bottom of it, though."

 

            No.  Unfortunately, I don't suppose we ever will.

 

            I just know what I know, that's all.  And what I was told.

            But what's my word against those of so many others?

 

END