He ran. He didn’t know where he was running to. He was just running away. He saw the light in the red box in the distance and put his hand in his shirt pocket. He dropped the coins three times before he connected with the number. The voice told him where to go and he would be picked up in five minutes. He made another call and told them the address. He told them to hurry. He heard the sirens at the same time his transport arrived. He was given clothes to wear and shown the bathroom. He ran the shower. It was too hot. He got in anyway.

The water scorched his skin as he washed her away.

Within an hour, he was standing at the docks at Larne. The stranger who brought him there was angry when he relayed the events of the night. He told him he must lie low for a while before he returned to Ireland. He was angrier when Cormac told him he no longer wished to be a volunteer. He said that was not an option. Cormac insisted he’d rather be dead than ever get involved in anything again. The man asked him to wait for a moment while he made a phone call. When he came back his mood had changed and he was all handshakes and smiles. He told him he was a lucky bastard. The man with the beard liked him. He told him they’d a proposition for him. He could be released from his obligations in return for never returning to Ireland again. He was not to make contact with his friends or family. If he attempted to do so, he, or they, would become legitimate targets. Cormac said he understood and he was given an address of a house in Newcastle-upon-Tyne and fifty pounds. He was instructed never to speak to his new landlord of the events of the evening. His landlord was a distant relative of the man with the beard and would have no part of any of this if he knew the truth. He shook hands on the deal and walked through the gates.

He stood on the deck as the boat took him from one life to another. He stood alone, away from the glares of the other passengers. He was convinced they were all talking about him. He felt they could see the mark on him; the stamp of his evil. He spent the entire journey to Stranraer being tossed and turned by the rough waters that calmed only as the boat reached the sanctity of the shore. There were no trains until morning, so he spent the night on a bench at the station. He arrived in Newcastle the following afternoon and knocked on the door of the tall red brick house in Jesmond. A pretty blonde girl, with kind blue eyes, opened the door to him. She said her father was at a council meeting, but they were expecting him. She told him her name was Jill and she already knew his name. He ate with her and she talked and he listened. He saw the newspaper headline two days later. He picked up the paper and read it in the little shop on the corner.