During the long drive home, I couldn’t help turning over all the latest developments in my head.
Bridges had been bombed while at work and although Skinner had been shot at home, there was no telling whether or not the attackers had his address. It wouldn’t have been too difficult to follow him. He had been out of the army for over twenty years and would never have been looking for a tail.
The thought made me check my mirror. I’d been so wrapped up in my troubles that I hadn’t thought about this possibility.
I took a diversion, drove into a cul-de-sac, turned and waited.
No vehicle appeared. I repeated the manoeuvre using a car park until I was happy I wasn’t being tailed myself. In a way, I would have been pleased if I had. At least that would have meant that they didn’t know where I lived – where Jenny and Becky lived.
As I resumed my journey, the realisation hit me. I had no choice. I had to start making plans.
First thing would be to contact Jones and Monaghan. Then tell Jenny. After that, I would move her and Becky to Jenny’s mum’s place for a while.
I would have to keep going to work; pulling a sudden sickie might cause suspicion. After a while I’d have to go sick, though; something like stress, so I’d be off for some time.
I remembered that one of Jenny’s relatives had a holiday cottage in Scotland. We’d head there, lay low … and wait.
The house was empty when I arrived home. A note from Jenny lay on the kitchen table. She and Becky had gone shopping for the morning.
I went to bed, but the sleep I needed eluded me. I dozed, thought, planned and occasionally got up to jot ideas down on a note pad before I forgot them. The hands on the clock moved very slowly.
Clear skies appeared in the afternoon. I gave up trying to rest, made a mug of tea and then tried to ring Monaghan and Kevin Jones. Neither of them answered. Kevin had left me his mobile number so I sent him a text message asking him to make contact.
My next task was talking to Jenny.
I knew that when she went shopping, she would normally arrive home at between three and four. As I rehearsed what I was going to say, I pictured Jenny talking about the shops, her mother and who she’d met while out. But despite having the words ready, I couldn’t seem to find the right moment to make my great speech.
Perhaps she would start to talk about the car bomb. That might be the introduction I needed.
I wouldn’t hold back on anything. I would be completely honest. I envisioned Jenny listening, not saying a word. As I finished she would stay silent. She wouldn’t scream at me, ask difficult questions or throw accusations. For someone who was about to discover that her husband had a secret past that would upset her life in a big way, my plan had her taking the news incredibly well.
Unfortunately, when I did it for real, I knew it was going to be much harder.
So, I practised my speech time and time again. I had to get it right, had to find a way to tell my wife someone was trying to kill her husband. Explain to her why I had lied about myself. I had to tell her in a way that ensured she understood and didn’t fly off the handle. And I had to get things in the right order.
So I rehearsed again and again.