Survivor
By H.M. Roberts-Brown
“Gotcha,” he whispered to himself. He pulled up
and watched as she locked the car and let herself into the house. It was a
large place; obviously flats in a once grand residence backing on to the park.
Over the next few weeks he drove past at differing times of the day and evening
just to confirm he had actually found her and each time he did, his hatred of
her festered and grew.
***
Bruises fade, scars heal and broken bones mend
but each one is a memory and they stay longer than anything physical. Learning
to handle the memories was always the hardest part; they pushed their way into
consciousness randomly and without warning. At the start of what she considered
her new life, the flashbacks could leave her crippled, feeling isolated and
vulnerable with an overwhelming need to hide from the world but she was
learning that this was just a phase in the healing process. When she looked back
now, it was with a sense of detachment, as if all the horrors of the
relationship had happened to someone else. In a sense, they had. Helen wasn’t
that woman anymore, the one who took the abuse, she had escaped and was strong
now. Even if he did find her again, she knew there was no going back. She was
in control of her own destiny, wasn’t she?
***
As twilight crept across the park, he left the
vantage point from which he’d been watching and waiting. He would watch again
another day.
***
Helen woke early the next morning as sunlight
streamed in through the big bay windows. She lay in the warmth and watched the
dust motes dancing in the light. She heard the low distant rumble of the
tractor as it made graceful sweeps of the vast green spaces, showering emerald
cuttings as it left the sweet perfume of cut grass in its wake. She stood at
the window with her first hot coffee of the day and watched as early morning
joggers and dog walkers began to populate the park. There was a kind of timetable
for park users. Fitness buffs and pet owners were first followed by mothers
with young children. By late morning, the sportsmen took over the football and
cricket pitches and later afternoons saw the invasion of whole families.
Evenings were for teenagers. Couples of any age out for a stroll and a chat
were a constant, anytime. The park was always the same but ever changing as it
embraced everything from tranquil days to riotous nights of funfairs and
bonfires; it was an interesting place to live.
Helen had arranged to meet a friend called Gwen
for coffee in the park’s visitor centre. She loved the relaxed atmosphere in
the café and admired its dog-friendly environment (except of course when it was
a bad weather day because the smell of a wet dog was universally unpleasant!)
The café was where she’d previously met Gwen. There’d been a mix up in their
orders and the young man who was managing that day was so apologetic that you’d
have thought giving out the wrong drink was some sort of hanging offence! They
couldn’t help but smile to one another and start a conversation which grew into
a firm friendship. Gwen lived on the opposite side of the park with her husband
and was a social worker employed by the local authority children’s services.
It was precisely because Gwen was a social worker
that Helen never revealed information about her past. She didn’t want Gwen to
look at her with professional eyes, she didn’t want to become the object of
sympathy or be directed to ‘useful’ support groups, she just needed time and
trustworthy friends, she was working on her healing in her own way and at her
own pace. Having close friends, like Gwen, was a massive step in the right
direction.
She closed the grand front door and stepped
outside causing a panic of beating wings from the bird feeders in the garden as
the disturbed diners took flight. She always met Gwen on the Swiss bridge
because she liked to vary her route to the café, a practise of not being
predictable. By the time she reached the bridge, she could be sure she wasn’t
being followed.
She strolled past the sprawling comprehensive
school, enjoying the breeze and the warmth of the sun before turning down the
path running beside the small pond and leading towards the rockery. From there,
she walked around the lake to the bridge noticing the squirrels jitter about
under the trees and pigeons pecking at nothing along the path. Ripples formed
as large fish rose to the water’s surface to catch bugs. Sometimes it was easy
to forget the hustle of traffic outside this oasis of peace.
Seeing Gwen, she smiled and waved.
***
The man had watched her leave the house. She was
some distance away but walking toward him. He slowly circled the great oak tree
to keep out of her line of sight, like a child playing hide-and-seek. She walked
the path below his vantage point as his heart pounded and his breathing became
rapid. This was real! As she headed down a path to the Swiss Bridge, he leaped
down the back of the hill and raced around so he was behind her, quickening his
pace to catch up. His adrenalin pumped as he stalked his prey,
She was blind to what was about to happen. But he
knew.
***
Suddenly, Gwen turned back away from her greeting
as if her attention has been caught by something. A man, dressed all in black
with his face concealed beneath a large black hood, bounded up the steps onto
the bridge. Before she could react, he threw his arm around Gwen’s neck and, as
a terrified scream escaped her throat, Gwen was pushed violently to the ground
and the man raced off. The park reacted to the alien sound, the birds took
flight in a rush of startled plumage, squirrels darted away to hide, people
stopped in their tracks and looked, alarmed, in the direction of the sound. Helen knelt beside her friend, holding her hand and
sobbing as the pool of blood seeped down and congealed into the wooden boards.
Extract from Liverpool Echo 11/08/2023
Brian Edward Williams, 19, was sentenced to life
imprisonment at Liverpool Crown Court today for the murder of Mrs. Gwen Evans.
Mrs. Evans was stabbed in broad daylight in Birkenhead Park and died a short
time later in Arrowe Park Hospital.
The court heard that Williams had a troubled
upbringing which led to him being taken into care at the age of 12. He never
settled in the care system and became hostile and abusive in each of his
placements. He focused his aggression on those trying to help him and Mrs.
Evans, as lead social worker on the case, became the sole target of his
resentment.
Williams showed no remorse for his actions,
telling the court that, “she took me from my family; now I’ve taken her away
from hers.”
The jury heard that Williams had obsessed about
taking revenge on Mrs. Evans. These actions confirmed pre-meditation and led to
the judge passing a whole life sentence. In his summing up, the judge spoke of
the tragic consequences of Williams actions. Judge Lewis stated that the cruel
taking of Mrs. Evans life and the resulting loss to her family and friends in
such a heinous act would remain abhorrent to society for all time. He added that
this had been one of the saddest cases he had presided over as the perpetrator
was a victim of a broken social care system which had led to the loss of any
kind of meaningful future for Williams.
***
Dusk fell and the park was hushed. The birds had
flown to roost and the ducks and geese bedded down for the night. Helen would
never walk in the park again, never stop for a coffee, never feel the park to
be a haven. Birkenhead was holding her in the past. That night, she boarded a
plane with a one way ticket. She had to get far away to outrun her nightmares,
old and new.
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