Liar Liar

100

He felt like a marked man.

It wasn’t enough that Helen Grace had ruined his career, destroyed his piece of mind and shredded the last vestiges of his self-respect. No, she had left him with a stain – a stain that everyone could see.

He had been exonerated, for God’s sake. The police knew he wasn’t responsible for any of the attacks, yet what did they do about it? Did they trumpet his release as they had his initial arrest? Did they let the world know that he was innocent? No, they put out a two-line statement confirming he’d been released from custody and left it at that.

To the wider world, Richard Ford was still the face in the frame. The hero firefighter turned villain, betraying his colleagues and his calling, revelling in the destruction of his hometown. He was a pariah in Southampton and wherever he went he sensed people’s hatred. He had lasted all of an hour in the hotel, hiding in a small room that reeked of bleach, unable to venture out for fear of the abuse and insults that the staff, guests and passers-by were happy to heap on him. One of the cleaners actually spat at him in the corridor. He didn’t respond or turn back to seek sanctuary in his room. Instead he broke into a run, sprinting back home.

His house had been defaced of course. Graffiti on the walls and windows, dog shit smeared on the door. But he didn’t care. He knew he would be safe here. Having done a quick recce of the interior, he made a list of all the things he would need: padlocks, chains, a crowbar, perhaps a hammer for good measure. He had no idea what the future held, what he would do with his life, but he had resolved to hunker down in his home until he could see a way out of all the darkness.

The guy in Robert Dyas had been surly and hostile. He obviously recognized him from the papers, as did the halfwit in Tesco’s who glared at him as she bagged his food. Richard could have sworn he heard her mutter: ‘I hope it chokes you’ as he left, but he didn’t care. He was looking forward to getting home and shutting out the world.

Pushing open the garden gate, he hurried up the path towards the front door. Putting down his shopping, he reached into his pocket to pull out his key. Then suddenly he felt himself flying sideways, careering off the steps and landing hard on the paved path. The right side of his head felt strange – numb and tingling – and he raised his hand to it now, but it was wrenched away roughly.

This time he saw the fist coming. He turned his head to avoid it, but too late, the balled fist crunching into his jaw. His head kicked back, connecting sharply with the hard ground. Suddenly everything went quiet – he couldn’t hear properly and his vision was swimming. He tried to wriggle free, but the fist came again. This time he felt two teeth go – though whether he’d swallowed them or they’d fallen out he couldn’t say.

Now the rough hands were circling his throat, squeezing hard. And his attacker seemed to be shouting – coarse, violent words tumbling over one another. Richard Ford swung out a fist, but it was hopeless. He was already beaten and he knew it.

Then as suddenly as it started, it stopped. In his confusion and shock, Richard could see a man being dragged away. His attacker tried to escape the hands that now restrained him, lurching back towards him, but he couldn’t break free. And now he seemed to give up the fight, slumping to the floor, as those who’d intervened stood guard. And as the passers-by who’d saved his life punched numbers into their mobile phones, Richard Ford tried to focus on his attacker. The man was breathing heavily but now looked up. For a second their eyes met and suddenly Richard knew exactly who he was.

And why he’d come for him.