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Back Man at the Window Save as PDF
Chapters (61)
  1. Cover
  2. One
  3. Two
  4. Three
  5. Four
  6. Five
  7. Six
  8. Seven
  9. Eight
  10. Nine
  11. Ten
  12. Eleven
  13. Twelve
  14. Thirteen
  15. Fourteen
  16. Fifteen
  17. Sixteen
  18. Seventeen
  19. Eighteen
  20. Nineteen
  21. Twenty
  22. Twenty-One
  23. Twenty-Two
  24. Twenty-Three
  25. Twenty-Four
  26. Twenty-Five
  27. Twenty-Six
  28. Twenty-Seven
  29. Twenty-Eight
  30. Twenty-Nine
  31. Thirty
  32. Thirty-One
  33. Thirty-Two
  34. Thirty-Three
  35. Thirty-Four
  36. Thirty-Five
  37. Thirty-Six
  38. Thirty-Seven
  39. Thirty-Eight
  40. Thirty-Nine
  41. Forty
  42. Forty-One
  43. Forty-Two
  44. Forty-Three
  45. Forty-Four
  46. Forty-Five
  47. Forty-Six
  48. Forty-Seven
  49. Forty-Eight
  50. Forty-Nine
  51. Fifty
  52. Fifty-One
  53. Fifty-Two
  54. Fifty-Three
  55. Fifty-Four
  56. Fifty-Five
  57. Fifty-Six
  58. Fifty-Seven
  59. Fifty-Eight
  60. Acknowledgements
  61. About the author

‘Darnley will be expelled this time, you can be sure of that. Hitting a boy your size.’ Abbott shook his head in disgust as he said the final sentence. This started a new flood of tears and the boy rubbed his back, pretending pain.

‘Darnley’s in detention. Don’t you go anywhere near there. Can you walk?’

‘Yes, sir.’ And the boy was surprised he could. He took a step forward and backward to show Mr Abbott.

‘You don’t have to go back to the sixth form common room. I’ll speak to Carmody. He told you to stand there, right?’

The boy nodded.

‘Why did he want you to stand there?’ Abbott asked.

‘I don’t know,’ the boy replied. ‘I don’t mind standing there.’

Forty-Eight

FORTY-EIGHT

Day 20

Kilkenny Road

2.45 p.m. Friday, 13th November 1965

Cardilini had managed to garden all day. However, his mind travelled again and again over any possible hard evidence that could be presented in court. No identifiable gun, no identifiable shooter. The bullet. He knew he had to find it and that it had to match a St Nicholas’ rifle. He needed the names of the boys Edmund was abusing, one of them must have picked up the bullet.

Standing, frustrated, sipping a cup of tea, he looked down one side of the house. The timber picket fence between his and the neighbour’s block was about a yard from his wall. On the other side of his house, the car could be driven to the rear past wild orange and lemon trees. He’d glanced in their direction a few times that day but didn’t feel any motivation to do anything about their lengthy, searching branches. Winter was the time for that, he reminded himself.

Along the front of the house, a low brick wall barely contained a variety of dishevelled shrubs. He placed his cup on the wall, then saw another cup sitting there. A tremor went through him. He tried frantically to remember when he had placed it there. He looked inside it. There was a layer of dried and crumbled leaves in its base. He felt sick, his legs folded and he collapsed on the wall. Betty could have left it there. His chest ached, his throat convulsed, he put his hands out to support himself. He stared at the cup, convulsions running through his body as tears dropped onto the brickwork.