the road, my heart well and truly in my throat. They were still shouting as I disappeared out of their view and immediately broke into a sprint. I was certain that they would ring the police and I would not have long before they arrived. I sprinted straight back over the bridge and then jogged the remainder back to my junction box collapsing with exhaustion once I have clambered inside.
A police siren.
Another police siren.
Yet another police siren, then nothing.
I was scared to move and to breathe. I had visions of police in legions, combing the streets with dogs while helicopters buzzed overhead scanning all derelict building for body heat.
One thing is very clear. I have to get out of here. I have to get out of here as soon as possible.
Sunday, April 2nd
Needless to say I had a rotten night’s sleep and I have not moved from here, I dare not even make a sound. There have been no noises from outside. The temperature has dropped making things very uncomfortable and to make matters worse I have been joined by a rat who seems to have taken up residence on the other side of the junction box in a hole in the wall.
I am so bored. I have decided that I will wait until darkness sets in and have another go at searching for boats/marinas.
With not a lot else to do I will settle down, keep warm and read the rest of my ‘boat’ book.
Monday, April 3rd
The midnight boat reconnaissance mission went well. I was not immediately rugby tackled on leaving the station and there were not hordes of police hunting the streets in packs for me.
In fact there was no one on the streets at all; it was far too cold for anyone with any sense to be out and about.
I walked back to the same street I was spotted on and continued to follow the river south. This area proved useless, after the residential area it became very industrial and the only boats along the waterfront were huge. I suppose they were not boats at all, but ships.
I doubled back on myself hugging the water as much as I could. I walked for miles until I saw it, ‘Millbrook Sailing Club’. I was getting extremely cold so didn’t spend a lot of time looking around. It was a small club with its own private marina and a small owners club on site. The site was secured with fencing and a gate, which didn’t look as if it would be too difficult to negotiate. The boats were tricky to make out in the dark so I chanced a quick look with my torch, the majority of crafts were sailing boats, but a quick scan of the pontoons revealed a small number of motor boats including a couple of cabin cruisers. I had decided this was where I was going to set out from. The only question that remained was when.
I wearily walked back to the junction box, where my rat flatmate and supper of two Mars bars were waiting for me.
Tuesday, April 4th
I have decided that I will leave for France tonight. It is early morning here in junction box paradise and I am busy.
There are two things I need to do before I leave.
1) Buy a couple of petrol tanks and fill them with petrol. The cabin cruisers do seem to be my best bet, the book I am reading does seem to suggest that they are pretty reliable, especially the types with an ‘inboard’ motor as opposed to an ‘outboard’. This type of boat will provide me with decent cover, especially if the trip takes a while – truth be told I have not got a clue how long it will take or if it is even possible!
2) Find an Internet cafe and check whether Sasha has advertised a cat’s tail!
I will sign off for now, dear diary, as there is a lot to do ahead of tonight. Wish me luck!
Wednesday, April 5th
Thursday, April 6th
I am sat on a beach in France (well at least I think so!), absolutely no idea where! It is currently 06:33am and I am absolutely freezing, but I’m here and in one piece.
I am curled up and resting in the boat halfway up a deserted and rocky beach. I managed to drag the boat up the beach a fair way, but had to stop as the rocks started to increase in size. The beach and its surroundings look stunning in the early dawn glow. It is just a small stretch of beach, almost like a cove surrounded on all sides by lush green hills that rise up away from the small jagged cliff line. I figured I would rest for a while and then attempt to pull the boat to the side of the beach and try to find a place to hide it, or at least make it a little more inconspicuous.
The journey across was very scary and I really don’t think I would have done it had I known just what it was going to be like.
I packed up all my earthly belongings and set off from the junction box just after seven as it was starting to become dark and headed towards the town centre. A mile into my walk I chanced upon a petrol station and bought a petrol can and filled it up with unleaded. As I walked on I reached the left hand turn that would take me down to the marina. I hid the full petrol can in a bush nearby and carried on walking towards the town. Another mile and I came across another petrol station, I again purchased a can and petrol, and returned to stash it with the first. I walked on again, back past the petrol station and onwards towards the town, eyes peeled for an Internet cafe. As I got closer to the centre the streets started to get busier and busier and I started to get more and more concerned about being identified. I had no choice, I had to carry everything with me. I could risk losing the petrol, but not all my things, it was a risk I had to take. I walked on with my face down and my eyes sweeping the ever increasing numbers of shops and businesses. Then I saw it, a Job Centre. I crossed the road to get a better look, it was open. The centre was filled with boards covered in postcards undoubtedly advertising a whole host of local positions which needed filling. All along the side of the centre were computers, a few of them being used by jobseekers. I entered the centre, sat at a computer and started to search eBay.
I looked over my shoulders, no one there, so I typed ‘cats tail’ and hit enter.
One result. I clicked it with butterflies flooding through every blood vessel in my body.
It was Sasha. I eagerly read the advert she had created.
‘For sale, one cat’s tail – see photos attached for more details’.
I clicked the photos, the first one was as the advert dictated – a picture of a cat’s tail. The second was a picture of the coffee table in her house, there was a note on it. I zoomed in.
It read:
‘Dear Matt,
I love you and know you didn’t kill Todd on purpose, I know it was an accident. We all know it was an accident. We all miss you so much, most of all me. I ache for you. I have created a new email address that I will only access from school so nobody traces it, we can stay in contact that way.
[email protected] I will check it every day.
Love
Sasha
XXX
Tears filled my eyes, I felt warm all over and so happy. I checked over my shoulders again, still no one near me so I turned back to the computer and got to work.
I created my own new email account
[email protected] and wrote Sasha a brief message.
Dear Sasha
Words cannot explain how happy I am right now. You are so clever! I am in Southampton at the moment typing this from a Job Centre. I am just about to cross the Channel to France – I will explain how another time!
I must see you. I don’t know when I will have access to email again. Not for a little while for sure, so here is the plan. I will meet you on Saturday April 17th at 9:00pm by the ticket barriers to the international train at Paris, Gare du Nord.
What we will do when we meet, I don’t know. Maybe I will when I see you.
I love you with all my heart.
Matt
XXX
P.S. Delete the eBay advert!
I left the Job Centre with a new found spring in my step and a drunken smile on my face. I went off to retrieve my hidden petrol cans and headed towards the marina.
The marina was deserted when I arrived, apart from some sort of small function going on in the boat owners club. When I arrived there were a couple of people smoking outside an
d talking far too loud. I waited until they went back in and slipped silently inside the open gates. I hugged the shadows on the far side of the yard, arrived at the pontoon and threw my bag and petrol cans (carefully onto the bag so as not to make too much noise) over the tiny security gate, checked around one final time and then quietly climbed over myself. I walked to the end of the pontoon where I started examining the cabin cruisers moored there. There were six in total, all fairly small but they were all tidy and looked up to the task ahead. I looked around the first but noticed the heavy duty clamp attached to the wheel, a definite no, I moved on. I looked around the others and made a decision. The boat was perfect, obviously used for day fishing trips as it had a good supply of nets, rods and reels in the cabin and a fish finder by the wheel, but was low on security. Like the others I have looked over this boat needed a key to start it, but I figured that it would be quite straight forward to ‘hot wire’. How hard could that be? I returned to a few of the other boats and retrieved a few additional items: a life jacket, some oars, a length of rope and a couple of half-empty cans of petrol with a spare pump. I untied the boat, grabbed one of the oars and pushed off from the side of the pontoon, I was away. The wobbling made my already nervy stomach turn over and I felt as if I was going to vomit. Rowing was very difficult; the boat was small, but clearly not designed for this kind of propulsion, except in an absolute emergency obviously. The oars barely touched the water,