The Magpies A Psychological Thriller - By Mark Edwards Page 0,116

the room, and he had been told he could take them down if he wanted to, but he quite liked them. He wasn’t scared of foxes.

The furniture in the room was basic: a single wardrobe, a bedside cabinet, a small chest of drawers. The mattress creaked beneath him. The room smelled stale, of dust and disinfectant, but he had opened the little window to let in some air. The room was fine, he told himself. It was a good place to get his life back on track.

He had been waiting a while for this room, slowly inching his way towards the top of the allocation list after a long time moving between B&Bs and a spell on the streets. There were dark holes in his memory, holes burnt into his brain by alcohol. But now he was on the wagon. That was part of the deal when they offered him a room in this hostel. He would stop drinking. He was even going to quit smoking.

He looked around again. Yes, it was fine. This would be a good base for his relaunch into society.

He went downstairs and saw Carol, one of the women who ran the hostel.

‘Hi Jamie. What do you think?’

‘Of the room? I like it.’

‘Good, good.’ She smiled. ‘We’ve got another couple of people moving in today. One will be moving in to the room next to yours.’

He nodded. ‘I’m going to go out for a walk. Check out my surroundings.’

‘Sure.’

He went out and walked into the wind. It was cold and he was relieved that he wasn’t still out on the streets. He saw a man sitting in the doorway of an abandoned shop. The man nodded at him, recognising a fellow spirit; another person who had fallen on hard times. But Jamie was on his way up. He felt a stab of guilt, knowing that soon he would again be part of the world that walked past the homeless without a glance. He told himself he would never forget what it was like to have nothing, but secretly hoped he would forget.

He walked down to the river and found an empty bench, then sat looking at the choppy water. He didn’t want to cross the river; he didn’t like crossing to the north of the Thames any more. That way lay the past, and a flat that had been gutted by fire. Two flats. The Newtons’, and his and Kirsty’s.

It had been in all the papers. There was a delay in the fire brigade coming to Mount Pleasant Street because the address was on a blacklist of hoaxers. Even though it had been Brian who called 999, the address had triggered an alert. A few minutes passed as the firemen checked that this wasn’t another hoax. Five vital minutes. An anonymous fire fighter was quoted as saying that if it wasn’t for that five minute delay, they might have arrived in time to save Chris. As it was, they were only able to stop the fire spreading further than the ground floor flat, saving Mary’s flat.

After he was well enough to leave hospital, Jamie was arrested and charged with murder. He was refused bail and spent months in prison awaiting trial. He pleaded not guilty, on the grounds that he had been driven to his actions by his neighbours. The trial became known as the ‘Magpies’ trial, after Jamie’s lawyer described Chris and Lucy as a pair of magpies, birds renowned for destroying the nests of other birds. This phrase caught the imagination of the press and the jury, who were also impressed by the evidence given by Letitia and David, who were persuaded to travel down from their Scottish retreat and speak up on Jamie’s behalf. Kirsty gave evidence too. And in the burnt-out remains of the flat, the police forensics team found a tiny charred spy camera concealed in the picture rail. They also found a microphone, hidden beneath the carpet in the bedroom.

Jamie was found not guilty and released.

He looked at the water now. After the trial, he had come down to the river and thought about ending it. He had nothing left. Among the papers that perished in the fire was a letter from the house insurance company telling him his last direct debit had failed. When the flat burnt down, it was uninsured. He had stood beside the river and wondered what it would feel like to throw himself in, for the waters to close over him – but he couldn’t