The Retreat Residential Home lay half-way down Beech Road in the sleepy Sussex seaside town of Crabby-by-the-Sea. To the casual observer this former Victorian mansion was a quiet, unassuming, residential home for a mixture of the elderly with a variety of care and social support needs and a private wing for wealthy octogenarians.
Four newly released bank, post office and security van robbers were placed in the social wing of the residential home. Matters would never be the same again for some of the long-term residents, both social support and private.
Among the tenants some lived lives of quiet boredom. Secret romances blossomed. A few of the tenants taxed the patience of the warden and occasionally the local police.
It was late Friday morning. The shelves of the old Post Office’s little convenience store were empty. No one was manning the post office counter. The only activity was in the small café where a man and a woman sat waiting to receive their order.
Outside, and legally parked, a paunchy man in a weather-proof coat sat in the driving seat of a small car engrossed in the racing pages of the Sun. He ignored the arrival of a people carrier disgorging five passengers, who headed for the cafe. He paid no interest in a red Mark Two Jaguar as it pulled up a few minutes later and parked in front of him. Nor did he pay any attention to three, heavily disguised, men one behind the other, who left the car and headed for the Post Office. One was pushing a four-wheeled invalid trolley, one of the others assisting him from behind. The lead man waving a heavy walking stick, bulky in his disguise, also carried what first appeared to be a towel covering a second walking stick.
Behind him a large man beckoned encouragement to the last of the trio who was labouring to manoeuvre his walking trolley over a drainage grill in front of the door of the building. The two-front wheels became stuck in the grill of the drain in front of the door which continued sliding backwards and forwards as he tried to extract the walking-aid. As he struggled to free the wheels a loud blast came from within the shop followed by the sound of falling debris and shouts of indignation.
As the blast went off, the last man tugs the two-front wheels of his trolley from the grip of the drain, pulling the trigger of his 12-bore shotgun strapped to the handle of the trolley only milli-seconds after the first blast. The sliding doors were open and a TV blew apart into a million-pieces as the contents of the gun’s cartridges hit it. Much to the annoyance of the café customers.
Inside the old post office one man lay on his back. The re-coil of the gun had unbalanced him. The second was trying to get him on his feet. Both men quickly raised their hands and surrendered to the customers who, it transpired, were a heavily armed fast response team and two armed plain clothed police officers. They were awaiting instructions following a tip-off; there was to be a major raid planned for premises in Crabby.
The driver of the people carrier arrived outside the Post Office as the trolley man’s gun went off and he tumbled backwards with the trolley and the shotgun on top of him. He was handcuffed.
From the Jaguar, the driver got out and quickly walked up the street and headed for a pub. He too, was quickly arrested.