I Know What I Saw

23 Sunday

There are tears running down my face. I am in the park still and I am crying, but now there is laughter breaking through. It isn’t funny but I can’t cling on to the present and I need to. Has my time at Seb’s house done something to me, blunted the sharpness that I had and had to have to stay alive outside? The day is ending and the best thing to do now is to wait out the night somewhere close. And then, just like that, those two imperatives chime as one. Tonight, I’ll sleep out.

There was a man once who built an underground home here in the park. He collected cement and timber and dug ten feet down into the soil in a copse and made a bunker. The rumour was that he stayed undetected for ten years. It never crossed my mind to do that. The point for me was not to be enclosed – even amongst all this space.

I head out of the park and disassemble the strategy I have decided upon. To bypass the alarm I need a key or I need Ebadi to neglect to set it. I don’t have a key and I can’t wait for him to forget his alarm. So this is the only thing I can do. The woman died cruelly. My mind wants to hold me responsible for some part of that cruelty and to punish me. But my psyche hasn’t understood that about me – that I accept the cruelty. The cruelty was always there and has never been punished.

It was an act of cruelty on my part to make Rory suffer. There are no loose, unguarded comments. I knew what I was doing when I said that to him and what the consequences were. Suffering. It was deliberately inflicted. At some visceral level I wanted him to feel it.

But I misjudged how quickly he would fall.

There are no people left in the park. The wardens have begun their rounds in their little green cars and have shepherded everyone out and are now heading north to the other end of the park.

The cold is like a soaked cloak around my shoulders. I draw my lapels close and hurry out of the park. Once I cross the road I look for somewhere I can spend the night away from people and traffic. There is a lamp post with a white-painted cycle tethered to it and dead flowers in its spokes. Some poor sod died on this grubby road on his or her way somewhere before a whole life and all its arrangements was brutally stamped out.

I think of Rory until a drop of rain brings me to myself. Finding a place to bed down for even just one night requires careful thought. I avoid anywhere within a throw of a pub and I avoid high-traffic areas. And then to escape the worst of the weather, I look for a narrow alleyway or small side street that is sheltered from the rain – and then sit there for a few minutes. Some of these alleys are wind tunnels and it’s not always easy to identify them immediately. And then there is the question of supplies. The deep recess of an office block is one thing, but without insulation it’s not much use. I start by finding a convenience shop with bedding – sleeves of cardboard waiting to be taken away – and then I search for the right ‘room’ in which to lay it down.

This shop is ideal. There are long sheets of cardboard propped up against a commercial bin. I select the driest pieces and also grab the end of a large roll of foil – just enough for a few strips. I have been here before, I think. There are large recycling bins at the entrance to the nearest alleyway, which I remember has out-of-date food from the shop. In the alley I lay the sheeting down in layers against a wall before rolling myself into the leaves.

As soon as I shut my eyes, I am back there with Rory. I do feel as though I killed him. That he was pushed, and didn’t simply fall. My confession pushed him as he stood teetering over the edge. I feel him now in my arms, crying.

I curl up tighter and try and order my thoughts. Ebadi. How did I let him do what he did? I replay it in my head to understand the moment of my indecision because I need to know when I decided not to act. The thought exhausts me as it tumbles through my head. I’m so tired I’m not certain I know where the house is any more. The wind has picked up and suddenly I am aware of the cold again. How quickly I got used to comfort. Now, I am dreading the onset of night.