The semi-detached house built in the fifties was ageing, but the need for repairs and maintenance was the landlord's concern, not hers. She was happy with the house as long as her own life stayed as it currently was. At home alone with a weekend looming, she was always happy to have a brief visit from family.
Lynn considered herself to be relatively attractive. She wasn't in the category of models and celebrities famous for their beauty first and their talent second, but she had the occasional admirer. Unfortunately these admirers turned out to be anything other than ideal. She had natural blond hair and a button nose, and she had a full figure with a face to match. Family would often exclaim that it is amazing that Lynn was still single. She hated such conversations and was quite content to still be single, especially when she was spending time with family and their loud and seemingly uncontrollable children.
Lynn saw light dancing across the wall opposite her living room window and knew a car was approaching the house. She noticed the time on the novelty blue cat-shaped clock on the wall. They must have left school in some kind of a hurry to arrive there so soon.
The visits of her nephews were frequent, but usually short-lived. She knew that as long as her house was in the same town, therefore in close proximity to where they lived, this would remain the case. When anyone else in their family visited, they'd usually travelled for some distance and would make a week or a weekend of the trip. In some ways Lynn was grateful that the visits of at least these relatives were short, but in other ways she would have liked to spend a little bit more time with her nieces and nephews while they were still young.
The doorbell rang and she swung the door open. The usual sight of two excitable young boys charging towards the door lay before her eyes. She could always gauge how much the children had grown by how difficult it was to stay on her feet when the two of them whacked into her and forcefully hugged her as a means of stopping their run.
“Hello boys. It's only been a few days, but you're growing bigger and stronger every day.” Both boys shyly grinned in Lynn's direction.
“Jake, Amy, how are you?” she asked in a raised voice as they stepped out of the car.
“Just fine, sis. How are things?” It was typical of Jake to answer a question and fire one straight back.
“Oh, you know how things are. They're the same as they always are with me.”
“Have you found any company other than that hideous clock on your wall yet?”
Whatever the tone of mockery she detected in her brother's voice, she knew that there was genuine concern there also. A number of people seemed to think there was something wrong with you if you reached thirty and were still single.
“Not yet,” she responded with a smile. “Still, I at least get some time to myself. Eventually that'll disappear and I'll have a life as tiring and hectic as yours.”
Lynn always had in the back of her mind the words of their father from many years ago. They were not spoken with gravity or sincerity, but one sentence stayed with her nonetheless. “People are always trying to force marriage onto people as an ideal, but secretly they just want everyone else to be as miserable as them!” She still smiled to herself when she thought about it. She didn't really believe it, but repeated it to others when they asked her why she was still single.
She explained to her visiting relatives that she'd prepared some food for them to eat while they were there. The food consisted of nothing more than sandwiches and snack food, but she could tell the thought was appreciated. At least that was what she had thought until her brother looked uncomfortable. His attention was clearly focussed elsewhere and he couldn't walk past a clock without looking intently at it. Her cat-shaped clock drew attention, but not usually that much, and not from him. Jake clearly wanted to be somewhere else.
“Damn. I forgot my wallet.” Jake had found his excuse to leave them for a little while. “I'll have to go back to the house and get it. Before I do, are we sure we have everything else we need?”
“No, I think we're fine, dear. Just make sure you pick up your brain when you go back.” Amy smiled as she spoke. “You may not need it, but just to make sure, best bring it along anyway.”
A light laugh followed between Lynn and Amy. Jake didn't find it as amusing. They occasionally shared jokes that seemed to poke fun at him. He picked up his jacket from the clothes rack near the door, checked his pocket for keys, and was gone. The sound of the engine was heard from the house, slowly becoming quieter as he reached the end of the street and turned left on his short journey home.
CHAPTER 3
Friday 30th January, 4:15pm
Jake looked at the orange glow of the time displayed on the instrument panel of the car. According to the clock he was running just about on time, but he had a habit of setting clocks and watches just a few minutes fast. His wife always said he was strange for doing so, but he had a reason. He figured that if he ever left something slightly too late and was in a rush to get to his destination, he would actually arrive just in time.
Whilst that idea would work in theory, he knew that it did not often work in practice. He always knew in the back of his mind that he had another few minutes. As a result, the idea was totally wasted and would not profit him at all. In some instances it was likely to make him later than he would have been in the first place, due to the belief he still had a few minutes to spare.
He quickly set the unusual timepiece setting debate to rest that was raging inside his head. He suddenly realised just how much he needed to concentrate on what was about to happen. His actions this evening would save the lives of his family, or they would cost him his own life. He did not see any middle ground.
He weighed up what he knew about the situation from yesterday. None of his neighbours had witnessed what had happened. It took several loud gunshots to alert them to the fact that something was wrong. If he could exact his revenge without making much noise, there would be no witnesses. He wondered if it was possible to exact revenge if the original act had not actually taken place. He wasn't about to concern himself with that at the moment.
If he was indeed going to avenge an incident that hadn't happened yet, the next question was how he would do it.
He had seen actors in the movies kill someone and make it look like an accident. He doubted he had the skill or imagination to be able to pull that one off. As easy as some gangsters and con men made it look in their high-budget glamorous movies, he knew the task for him was not easy. The fact remained that these people were attacking him in his own home. Much of what he could do would be deemed self-defence.
He steered to his left and realised he was almost home. He didn't have a plan. He had no idea what these people even looked like. The time for thinking and planning had passed. It was time for action. The killers would be hunting for their victims within five minutes. It was now down to his instinct, impulse, and a large slice of luck.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Jake slowed down outside his house, wondering if they knew he was not home. He considered that someone had probably been watching his house. He did not know where they were watching from, but he could almost feel the cold stare of another person. He couldn't explain how. A spy of some sort would explain how a hit-man would know exactly when to show up and which car to drive. He felt another chill run down from the back of his neck as he suspected that this wasn't an accident or a mistake. Someone must have been watching for some time to draw up a plan for a hit on his family, maybe even for days. Whoever they were and wherever they were hiding, they would be keeping a lookout for his car.
The intruders could have been watching from a distance first. If they were to see his car they would abandon their plans and return to carry out their dastardly deed at some other time.
He made sure he didn't slow down to the point of stopping, but made it look as if he was lost or admiring the neighbourhood, then carried on. It wouldn't be uncommon to see several silver Mercedes cars drive along a street like th
is.
The street they lived on was long and winding. There were many nice houses, and potentially many nice cars, and hopefully, another car that looked like his. That way, anyone keeping a lookout would mistake his car for theirs. It was now his hope that whoever was watching would think this car was heading for another house. Hopefully they hadn't watched to the point of recognising his car number plate.
If they knew the details of his car, then his plan for revenge could have already been thwarted. In fact, if they'd been watching the house for a few hours, they would already know his family would not be there. He decided to carry on and hope for the best. He hoped that if there was someone watching their house that he was a part-time spy, or that they were taking a break when he picked up his wife earlier. Maybe luck would be on his side on this occasion. It certainly had not been yesterday.
He knew that if he followed the road around to the right that he could stop outside the house which faced the opposite direction from his house, with a rear garden that backed onto his own. This could be used to his advantage.
He stopped by the side of the road. There were no cars outside. That usually meant no one was inside the Robinson home. He scrambled out of the car, swinging his arm around behind him to close the door. He didn't have the time to make sure he pressed the correct button to remotely lock his car, or to turn and see the usual flash of lights indicating a successful button push.
The house looked very different from his own, which he could see in the background from where he stood. Each building on his street was individual. The area wasn't very old, but every house had been built by different people with different plans. This helped maintain the uniqueness of everyone's house on the street. The theory was that value for individual houses would remain high when each house wasn't identical. He was glad of the attempt, even if he didn't agree with all of the logic. He didn't like looking out of his window and seeing nothing but identical houses. It seemed to make him feel less original somehow.
The Robinsons’ red brick house looked like every simple house he'd ever seen a child draw when they were at school. The front door was in the middle of the front of the house with a window on each side. On the first floor there were three more windows directly above the door and windows below them, with each window representing an upstairs room. The roof sloped down from the apex in the middle. It even had a white front door and square window frames. The architect had used little imagination in coming up with this design. Maybe the inside was vastly experimental and unique. The architect must have earned his money somehow.
All of the house lights were off. The sun was setting, leaving shades of red and orange in the sky before blackness would shroud the sky in just a few minutes. Anyone at home would have their lights on by now, especially with cloud cover blocking out what was left of the sun.
Jake ran over the gravel driveway and stepped through the unlocked gate attached to the right hand side of the house. There he would find a flagstone path leading towards the back of the garden. He'd seen the garden from the upper floor of his own house and remembered how it was meticulously laid out by the Robinson family. He would have to be careful not to damage anything if he was to leave no obvious signs of this event.
Jake was soon met by the large wooden slat fence he had helped to erect several months earlier. It would not prove much of an obstacle. He put his foot between two wooden slats onto the beam half way up the height of the fence and threw himself over it. His landing was soft, but uncomfortable. He failed to think about how he'd come down on the other side. The ground on his side of the fence was slightly higher, and he hadn't taken that into account. He jumped to his feet, knowing he'd just hurt something around his right knee. He didn't have time to console himself or nurse his injuries. He needed to get into position.
Jake scrambled across his back garden and through the back door of his house, disabled the alarm, and rushed to look out the front window to find that no car was approaching.
He was out of breath. It was no doubt more exercise than he'd had in a while. “Go... to the gym!” he whispered to himself in a broken sentence. “You pay... an extortionate... monthly fee for membership.... Just go once in a while!”
After a brief moment he regained his composure and his regular breathing pattern. He knew someone must be watching. It was almost the time that Jake arrived at his house yesterday, and still there was no silver Mercedes approaching the house.
He wondered what might have changed to stop them from being there now, and then the thought came to him. These people obviously saw no lights, and they waited. Maybe they'd been there a while and had seen him and Amy drive away before. Thought after thought about the failure of his plan came to mind. Now was not a time for negative thinking. He flicked on some lights within the house, drew some curtains, and turned on the television. He tried his best to fool anyone watching into believing that his family was at home.
He crouched by the window, looking out on the street in twilight. He realised that he still had no plan. He had no weapons at his disposal other than makeshift ones. He could get a kitchen knife, a cricket bat, a golf club or just anything heavy.
He wondered about calling someone for help. What would he say if he did? No one would believe his story if he tried to tell them. Hit-men, shootings and reliving days? He could barely believe it himself. Most of his friends would think he'd become more paranoid than usual, or he'd had one drink too many.
He picked up the house phone, moved his hand towards the number pad, but then replaced the handset without dialling anything.
Maybe the hit-men weren't going to show up. Maybe they had just made a mistake the first time, and had somehow managed to correct it tonight. As he thought this, the room began to get lighter from oncoming car headlights. Someone was driving towards the house.
Jake unconsciously picked up the phone again. Before he realised what he was doing, he heard a voice on the other end of the phone.
“Emergency Services. How can I help you?” He'd dialled without even knowing he'd done it.
“Hi. This is Jake Hingham, and I live at 17 Wymundham Way, off Neasham Road, Darlington. Two dangerous men with guns are approaching my house. I believe they're here to kill my family. Please send the police immediately!”
The realisation of what he had just done dawned on him and wondered if this was the right course of action. Having the police arrive in a few minutes would severely limit his options for exacting revenge. Perhaps he could claim self-defence, but no one would believe that if he hurt these men as much as he wanted to hurt them. Serious injury would be considered more than reasonable force, which was the term he'd heard used in self-defence cases that made the news.
He heard the car pull into his driveway. This must be them. He glanced out of the corner of the window. A silver Mercedes, looking exactly like the one he drove to and from work every day, was now outside his house. Two mysterious looking men sat in the car. They weren't moving. They seemed content to sit and watch the house. Jake figured that they would be waiting there until the family converged on the car, expecting to see their father.
He knew he had to open the door to get them to leave the car, but how was he going to do it without the risk of being shot?
He ran to the cupboard under the stairs. Leaning against the wall by the door was a cricket bat. “This will prove to be useful,” he muttered to himself as he closed the door again. Jake would have to think on his feet. He wondered how well he would do thinking on his feet when he could barely do it sitting down. The next few moments would give him an idea.
He flicked on the light in the hallway, and stood a couple of feet back from the front door. He reached out and turned the handle on the door, but realised that it was still locked. He reached into his pocket for the keys and fumbled around until the door could be opened. He tried again. The handle turned and the door opened slightly.
There was very little breeze outside, just enough to stir fallen leaves and to nud
ge open a front door already ajar. He could remain fairly close to the door without being seen as it slowly blew open. He tugged on the door slightly, stepping further back, into the doorway leading to the dining room.
“Amy Hingham?” A loud, authoritative voice spoke from the driveway. Jake then heard two car doors close. They were out of the car, and possibly walking towards the house. “Mrs Hingham, we need to speak with you.” The voice was louder this time. He could now hear the footsteps of the hard soles of dress shoes on his brick paved driveway. They were definitely getting closer.
Jake held the cricket bat firmly in both hands, with the top of the bat angling down to the floor. He looked almost ready for someone in his living room to throw a leather covered cricket ball in his direction, except that he lacked the padding and the skill of the average batsman. He heard steps just outside, then a gentle tap on the door. Jake moved closer to the front door, still hiding behind it, using the angle to his advantage to see through the narrow opening between the door and its frame. He knew exactly where they were, but they had no idea that he was even there.
Jake could make out a shadow in or near the doorway. The top of a head started to move past the door. Without any thought, Jake swung the bat upwards from the floor, until it crashed into the jaw of the man walking over the threshold. He followed that by lifting the bat high on the air before bringing it crashing down with all of his might on top of the same person's head. The man fell to the floor clear of the doorway as the sound of cracking wood echoed on the porch. Jake's hands felt the brunt of the vibrations of a solid willow wood cricket bat meeting the hard object of an intruder's head.