The World Out There - 52. Fifty-Two

Liam sat at the round table and took a bite out of his ham and cheese sandwich. The white bread and ham were dry, as they always were. At least the cheese had a strong flavour. It was always the same here. Any sandwiches they were given had been made hours before, left to sit around for hours and, therefore, dried out. At least the sandwiches at Cowgate were freshly made, but he wasn’t there.

As the Parole Board broke up for lunch, Liam and Mark were shown into one of the interview rooms further along the corridor at the front of the hospital by Victoria, the nurse. She left them there for a few minutes, before returning with their lunch. It was sandwiches, crisps, in the usual and very generic packaging, fruit and bottled fruit drinks all on one large tray, before she again left them.

“This sandwich is so dry - there’s no taste to it,” Mark said, looking down at his half-eaten sandwich.

“They’re always like that here,” Liam replied.

“I know, but I keep forgetting.”

Liam took another mouthful of his sandwich. He didn’t feel hungry until he first bit into that sandwich, then his empty and rumbling stomach told him the opposite. He swallowed his mouthful of sandwich.

“How do you think it’s going? My Parole Board,” he asked Mark.

“I think it’s going well. Janet, Aiden, and Cecelia gave great evidence. They were positive but not glowing, which always sounds suspicious.”

“But that judge in-charge is really grumpy. He’s nearly pissed off.”

“He’s a retired judge,” Mark said.

“What’s the difference?” Liam asked.

“To judges and retired judges, a hell-of-a-lot. Don’t mix them up or they’ll go on and on about it.”

“He’s still grumpy.”

“He’s never chaired a Parole Board here before. He’s used to chairing them in prisons and he’s only now understanding that here is very different to a prison.”

“Will that effect what they decide?”

“No. Dr Bradford and Mrs Hovey have done quite a few ones here. They’ll keep him in line.”

“That Dr Bradford and that retired judge don’t seem to like each other.”

“I don’t blame her. Retired Mr Justice Taylor is more than a bit of a twat,” Mark replied. Liam pushed down the desire to smirk. It always sounded odd hearing Mark swear.

“But doesn’t he decide what happens to me?”

“But Dr Bradford and Mrs Hovey have equal say in what happens to you. Those two are very experienced and sensible. Don’t worry about it, they will keep Mr Justice Taylor in line.”

“What will happen this afternoon?” Liam asked. He’d spent the morning just sitting there and listening. This afternoon he’d have to answer their questions. He would have to say the right things.

“The Parole Board will ask you their questions. They will start by asking you about what brought you here,” Mark replied.

“You mean me killing…” He swallowed down against his dry mouth. “… killing Rhys Clarke.”

“Yes, and they will call it your index offence.”

“Why is it called that?”

“Because the law has some strange terms for things.”

“I guess so… How should I answer their questions?”

“Honestly. Don’t worry if the answer sounds bad, give them the honest answer.”

“But what if the honest answer sounds really bad?”

“Still say it. They aren’t looking for the right answers - they are looking for what you would do. You need them to understand you, and the only way to do that is via honest answers. And Dr Bradford and Mrs Hovey can recognise bullshit when they hear it. I’ve seen them do it.”

“Right… I… Do you know what other questions they’ll ask me?” Could Mark give some sort of heads-up as to what to aspect.

“No, I don’t. They’ll have read the reports written on you and your case files and they’ll base their questions on them. They’ll want to know what kind of person you will be if they release you.”

“Right,” Liam said, looking down at his nearly eaten sandwich.

“I’ll be there sitting next to you. I can help you answer their questions.”

“You can?”

“I can point you in the right direction if their questions are a bit vague or too wordy.”

“That’s good.”

“I can provide legal advice on how to answer their questions.”

“I’ll need that.”

“They may ask you about your trial, I can answer about the legal side of it. Also, if the question is inappropriate, then I can challenge it.”

“Will that happen?”

“Not from Dr Bradford and Mrs Hovey, but it could come from Mr Justice Taylor. I get the feeling he might push it, but I’m there if he does.”

“Thanks.”

“Let’s finish your lunch, for what they are. We don’t want your stomach rumbling this afternoon. That won’t look good.”

“Yes,” Liam agreed as he reached for his packet of crisps.

<><><><>

Liam stretched his hand out on the polished wooden table. The wood was very smooth and cool to the touch. Stretching out his fingers and then contracting them, he could concentrate on it. He wanted to just tap his fingers on the table in bored frustration, but this was better, not because it relieved his frustration but because it was silent. What if they suddenly walked in and caught him tapping his fingers on the table with boredom, it wouldn’t look good. But he was bored.

Victoria had brought them back here, The Conference Room, for the second part of his Parole Board hearing ages ago, and since then, they had been left alone. He and Mark were just sat there, behind their long table with no sign of the Parole Board members.

“We’ve been waiting ages,” Liam complained, but keeping his voice down to a whisper. It wasn’t right to make noise here, not while it was just the two of them.

“They’re only five minutes late,” Mark quietly replied.

“Is there something wrong? Has something happened to them?”

“Victoria is probably taking her own sweet time unlocking the doors to get them here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Being late back from lunch is nothing new for a Parole Board. Don’t worry.”

Liam nodded his reply.

This wasn’t helping. They were late and he was left waiting here for them. He didn’t know what they were going to ask him and it was so important that he got his answers right. If he got them wrong, then he would be moved to…

The room’s door was almost thrown open and the three Parole Board members walked into the room headed by Mr Taylor, all carrying their laptops.

The three people took the same seats they had done that morning but seemed to take an age restarting their laptops and seeming to open documents or something on them. Liam looked down at his hand, with his fingers splayed out, but didn’t move it. Those three people could easily see him stretching and closing his fingers, what the hell would they think? He had to impress these people. He slowly drew in a lung full of air. Aiden had taught him that was a good way to ease his nerves, but… He must create the right impression.

“Are we all ready?” Mr Taylor asked the other Board members. He received nodded replies and positive noises from the two women. “Right. Mr Andrews, we are ready to resume your Parole Board hearing,” the man spoke directly to him.

“Thank you,” Liam replied.

“First, I want you to tell me about your index offence,” Mr Taylor said.

Liam looked back at the man and drew his tongue across the roof of his dry mouth. What did the man mean? Where did he start?

“Could you be more specific with your question?” Mark replied.

“I’ve been specific enough,” Mr Taylor bluntly said.

“I… I…” Liam stumbled. Where the hell did he start?

“Tell us what led up to your index offence,” Dr Bradford said.

“Rhys Clarke… well, he and his gang had been bullying me for so long,” Liam told them.

“That’s not in the transcript of your trial,” Mr Taylor said.

“The judge at Liam’s trial wouldn’t let us use that defence. He said it would prejudice the victim,” Mark told them.

“Who would make such a stupid ruling? Who was the judge - refresh my memory?” Mr Taylor said.

“Justice Walter McCoy,” Mark replied.

“Two Bottles McCoy? Was he still on the bench then?” Mr Taylor said, obvious surprise in his voice.

“It was one of the last trials he took before he had his stroke,” Mrs Hovey said.

“You followed his career that closely?” Mr Taylor asked her.

“He was a patient on one of the rehabilitation wards of my Trust about a year before he died. He was a nightmare - and I’ll say no more,” she told Mr Taylor.

“I didn’t know anything about this bullying,” Mr Taylor said.

“It was all there in Leanne James’s book about Mr Andrews and Rhys Clarke’s death,” Dr Bradford replied.

“Yes, it was very shocking to read. I know bullying happens, but to be confronted with it, like that,” Mrs Hovey added.

“We agreed not to do our own research before this Parole Board,” Mr Taylor said, annoyance back in his voice.

“Yes, we did and I stood by that,” Dr Bradford replied.

“Me too,” Mrs Hovey added.

“But you read that book,” Mr Taylor hissed.

“I read it when it was published, four years ago now,” Dr Bradford replied.

“Me too, and then my husband read it,” Mrs Hovey added.

“Oh, right,” Mr Taylor said. “I suppose that is all right.”

“Can we get back to Mr Andrews’s evidence?” Mark asked them.

“Yes, yes,” Mr Taylor replied. “Mr Andrews, you were saying?”

“Tell us about Rhys Clarke,” Dr Bradford said.

“I met him when I went to secondary school. He was nearly a year older than me, but in the same year as me, at school. That year’s difference made him seem so much older than me and he had a gang of mates around him,” Liam said.

“What happened with the bullying?” Dr Bradford asked.

“I don’t know why, but he hated me and bullied me from the moment we met.”

“That is often common too,” Dr Bradford said.

“I was just this little nobody kid - even the teachers would forget my name. I don’t know why Rhys Clarke hated me. He never said - and I never said anything to him before… before he started.”

“Tell us about the day you took the knife to school. Why did you do that?” Dr Bradford asked.

Liam swallowed against his dry mouth. Of course they were going to ask about this. He another deep breath.

“I was terrified of going to school because Rhys Clarke would always hunt me down and… Well, he and his mates would hurt me. They would seek me out, all day at school, especially during any break, or even if they just found me in a corridor. They even followed me home from school and would… they would hurt me.” He needed them to understand how afraid of Rhys Clarke and his gang he was, how terrified he was of them. Was he doing a good job?

“Why didn’t you tell anyone what was happening?” Mrs Hovey asked.

“There wasn’t anyone else to tell. I didn’t have any friends. No one really liked me. The teachers…” How could he describe this? “They weren’t interested in me. I didn’t make a fuss in class or anything. Rhys Clarke was also on the school’s football team and… I couldn’t say anything against him.”

“What about your mother? You could talk to her,” Mrs Hovey added.

“Rhys Clarke and his gang beat me up, on the way home from school, one day. They did it most days but that day they ripped the shoulder of my blazer. When my mum saw it, she hit me for getting it ripped… I was never a priority to my mum. I never made it onto her list of top ten priorities,” he replied.

“This is the woman who disowned Liam when he was sent here,” Mark added. “She has also refused to engage with any attempt to contact her we made about Liam.”

“I don’t think we can forget that,” Mr Taylor said.

“Why did you take that knife to school, that day? What happened after you did?” Dr Bradford asked.

“I was really afraid of Rhys Clarke and just wanted the bullying to stop. I thought by taking one of my mum’s kitchen knives with me to school, I could frighten off Rhys Clarke, and he’d finally leave me alone.”

“What happened when you did?” Dr Bradford further asked.

“Rhys Clarke didn’t come looking for me, that day, until the morning break. I’d tried to hide but he and his gang found me. I got the knife out of my school bag just to frighten him off, but Rhys Clarke just called me ‘chicken’ and said I wasn’t man enough to stab him. He goaded me.”

“Why did you stab him?” Dr Bradford asked him.

“He said I was weak and afraid, and I needed to show him I wasn’t. I thought the knife would just cut his skin and nothing more. I didn’t think it would go right into his body. I was stupidly clueless.”

“You stabbed him eight times,” Mrs Hovey said.

“I suddenly had some power of Rhys Clarke. I’d stabbed him - he was bleeding - he was afraid, and he was weak. I was suddenly stronger than him, so I kept stabbing at him to make him feel weaker than me. I didn’t mean to kill him. I just wanted to make him feel weak and afraid like he did to me every day, so he’d leave me alone. I didn’t see how much I’d hurt him until they pulled me off him.”

“Didn’t you realise that stabbing another boy with such a long knife would kill him?” Mr Taylor said.

“No,” Liam replied. “I only thought that I would hurt him. Being cut by a knife hurt but it didn’t kill… well that’s what I thought.” That sounded so pathetic, would they believe him?

“Mr Andrews was only twelve when he killed Rhys Clarke. His understanding of life and death would be very limited. He would certainly not have the knowledge of how serious stabbing someone with a knife can be,” Dr Bradford said.

“Are you sure?” Mr Taylor asked her.

“I certainly am.”

“My children didn’t understand life and death at that age,” Mrs Hovey said. “What about your children?” She asked Mr Taylor.

“Well, yes, I suppose so.”

“Mr Andrews, how do you feel about your index crime now?” Mrs Hovey asked him.

Liam ran his tongue around his dry mouth He had to get this one right.

“I feel so ashamed. I wish I had never taken that knife to school that day. I wish it had never happened. If I could go back in time and stop myself from taking that knife to school or threatening Rhys Clarke, then I would. But I can’t, I can’t change what happened, I killed another boy at school. I have to live with that but… I have to live with the terrible thing I did.”

“How has your time been here?” Mr Taylor said.

What did the man mean?

“I’m sorry but I don’t understand,” Liam replied. There was no choice, but would questioning that Mr Taylor set the man against him?

“How has life been here?” Mr Taylor said.

“Mr Taylor means, how do you feel you have developed while you have been a patient here?” Dr Bradford said.

“Yes, that’s what I meant,” Mr Taylor told her.

“I’ve… well, I’ve grown-up here,” Liam said. “I’ve been able to do things here I would never have had the chance to do if I wasn’t here.”

“What type of things?” Mr Taylor asked him.

“I’ve got an amazing education at the Education Centre here. I’ve got three A Levels, at good grades. I’d never had that chance at my old school. I’ve also been able to read some amazing books. No one here tells me off for reading. I have also been able to make friends, and I would never have had that chance back at my old home,” he said. It was all the truth, but did it sound enough?

“Didn’t one of your friends self-harm themselves in front of you?” Mrs Hovey asked.

“Yes, that was C…” He stopped himself. He shouldn’t use her name. “She was very unhappy, and I didn’t know she’d done it before.”

“And that caused you to have a panic attack,” Dr Bradford said.

“There was a lot of red blood and…” He took a deep breath; he could still see Chrissy’s red blood gushing out of her arm. “I had a flashback to when I… I killed Rhys Clarke. There was a lot of blood then.”

“Do you have many flashbacks?” Dr Bradford asked.

“Not anymore. I did when I first came here, a lot of them. I did a lot of work with the nurses here, and Dr Sayeed, and they gave me medication to help with them. I haven’t had one in years.”

“You’ve been doing work experience lately,” Mrs Hovey said.

“Yes,” Liam agreed.

“How has that been going? Tell us about it,” she asked him.

“I’ve done two lots of work experience. One lot here in the Education Centre helping out the teachers. The other was in the Admissions Office, at Cowgate Sixth Form College…” He couldn’t stop here, he had to say more. “In the Education Centre, I help other pupils with their work.” Yes, pupils sounded better than kids. “I help them to read, with their maths work, help them to write their essays, and things like that. At Cowgate College, I did office work, clerical work. I started off only stuffing envelopes but later on, I got to do computer work and more complicated stuff.”

“What do you enjoy about helping out in the Education Centre?” Mrs Hovey asked.

“I enjoy helping other pupils achieve something. It is great helping them to do their work. When they are able to read more on their own, got a maths question right on their own or are able to finish their own essay. That feels good.”

“What don’t you like about this role?” Mrs Hovey asked.

“It’s so hard not to step and give the pupil the right answer, especially when its maths,” Liam replied.

“Yes, that can be very hard. What do you enjoy about working in the Admissions Office?” Mrs Hovey said.

“It was boring, at first, only stuffing envelopes. I started to enjoy it when I got to do more interesting things,” he replied.

“What things?” she asked him.

“I started to keep data bases on their computer, and I also started to sort out their files, scanning in the ones on paper only and sorting the files on their shared drive. They have a lot of duplicates.”

“You like working with their computers?” Mrs Hovey said.

“Yes, I like sorting things out on them and… I like their logical nature.”

“And what don’t you like about working there?” she asked.

“Well… This sounds like I’m complaining but… There are two other workers in the office. They are paid employees, and they are so lazy. They will find any excuse not to work and the Admissions Office manager lets them get away with it.”

“That happens in many offices, I’m afraid,” Mrs Hovey said.

“And how have you changed since you came here?” Mr Taylor asked him.

“I…” Liam stared back at the man. How could he answer that? He was twelve when he came here, he was a different person then, he was a child and… How did he say that politely?

“That is an impossible question,” Dr Bradford spoke straight at Mr Taylor.

“No it isn’t. I ask it all the time,” Mr Taylor replied to her.

“Mr Andrews was only twelve when he first came here. He was only a child. How the can he answer your question?” Dr Bradford also snapped back.

“Dr Bradford has a point, you cannot ask that question, so we’ll move on from it,” Mrs Hovey added.

Mr Taylor turned his head to face her but seemed to stop under her firm expression. “Well… All right then,” Mr Taylor replied to her.

“You’ve told us about being bullied at school,” Dr Bradford asked Liam.

“Yes,” he said.

“Adults can bully each other. How would you deal with being bullied now? If you were released, working in a job and someone there started to bully you,” Dr Bradford said.

“First, I’d just walk away,” Liam said. “The bully’s power is fear; the fear they can generate in others. If you just walk away from them then you deny them that power. Saying ‘no’ to them denies them their power too.”

“What if the bully persists?” Dr Bradford added.

“I would find myself some help. I’d go to my supervisor or the human resources department or someone like that. Any job should have those things available. But I wouldn’t take on a bully all on my own… When I was first here, first admitted to Nurton Cross, there was another patient who found out why I’d been sent here.”

“Why would that be a problem?” Mr Taylor asked.

“Patients here are discouraged from talking about why they have been sent here. It helps them integrate more and helps with their treatment. Also, some patients have been sent here for high profile Index Offences, like Mr Andrews,” Dr Bradford said.

“What happened with this other patient?” Mrs Hovey now asked him.

“She threatened to tell everyone what I’d done unless I did everything she said. She wanted me as her personal servant, doing all the things she said she wanted me to. She… She blackmailed me,” he explained. It wasn’t good an explanation, but how could he tell them how terrified he was that Britney would shout across the ward that he was a child killer. Liam took a quick breath. “She had this… well, a folder of newspaper clippings on me. One of the nurses found this folder. That’s when I told them what had been happening. I’d thought everyone would hate me for telling on her. Instead, everyone hated her for what she’d done. It wasn’t that I suddenly saw that what she had done was wrong - I knew that. I saw that people really hated it when someone was a bully.”

“And that’s why you’d seek out help?” Mrs Hovey asked.

“Bullies work by singling someone out, someone they feel is weaker than them, that they can push around. Getting help and support will stop that,” he replied.

“Yes, it would,” Mrs Hovey smiled back at him.

“You seem to know a lot about bullies and their motivation,” Dr Bradford added.

“It’s my psychology studies. I really enjoyed them. It was fascinating,” he replied. It was fascinating: he’d loved his psychology lessons, looking forward to them each week. It had been so eye-opening - not everything he agreed with - but always it was interesting. He missed those lessons.

“That’s good to hear,” Dr Bradford said.

“You grew up on the Roman Road Estate in North London?” Mrs Hovey asked.

“Yes,” he replied. Why did she want to know this?

“You’ve lost your North London accent,” she added.

“Oh… I hadn’t noticed,” he said. He never thought about his accent. He never really listened to his own voice.

“You have,” Mark quietly said.

“Right,” Liam said. Nurton Cross really had a big influence on him, but why was that surprising?

“You’ve been here for several years,” Dr Bradford said. “How are you going to cope with alcohol if you leave here?”

“I’m not going to drink,” he told her. It was a simple but honest reply.

“You’re very certain about that. Why?” Dr Bradford added.

“My mother drank a lot. She often went out on a Friday or Saturday night - often both - and got really drunk. When she came home drunk, she was really… really nasty. I don’t want to ever be like that, so I won’t drink. It’s simple.”

“Weren’t you already in bed when your mother came home in that state?” Mrs Hovey asked, leaning slightly forward.

“No. I always waited up for her to come home because… well, she would need help because she was so drunk,” he said. He couldn’t tell them he was scared to go to bed when he was the only one in their flat. The building always made such strange noises when the flat was quiet and he could hear many people passing by the front door, out on the walkway, often noisy and shouting. Why was he remembering all that?

“But surely whoever was baby-sitting you could do that,” Mrs Hovey added.

“I didn’t have a baby-sitter or anyone else. She would leave me on my own when she went out. She just double-locked the front door.”

“How young were you when she started leaving you on your own,” Mrs Hovey asked.

“She always did. I don’t remember her not doing that,” he replied.

“I’m liking this woman less and less the more I hear about her!” Mr Taylor announced.

“You never had the pleasure of meeting her,” Mark said.

“Is that all the questions we have for Mr Andrews?” Mr Taylor asked, looking at the other panel members.

“That’s all from me,” Dr Bradford said.

“And me,” Mrs Hovey said.

“Is there anything else you want to say to us, Mr Andrews?” Mr Taylor asked, addressing Liam.

“Err… It’s just that if I could change anything then I’d stop myself from taking that knife to school, that day. But no one can do that, no matter how much you wish. I am so sorry about what I did and all the pain I caused. I know they’re only words and there’s no way I can make amends for what I did, but I am so sorry. I also wish I could tell Mrs Clarke, the mother of… his mother… about how sorry I am for all the pain I’ve caused her. But last time I heard, she is still very angry at me. Of course, I’d never try and contact her - that would cause her so much unnecessary pain - but I wish I could show her now sorry I am… That’s all really.”

He tried not to look down at the table in front of him - that would look really stupid, but he couldn’t look at any of the panel members either. He carefully looked at the space between Mr Taylor and Dr Bradford. What he’d said must have sounded so twatty. He meant it: if he could somehow go back in time, he would certainly stop himself taking that stupid knife to school, that day. But he couldn’t change any of that.

“Thank you, Mr Andrews,” Dr Bradford said.

“Mr Hiller, can I ask you a question, before we end?” Mrs Hovey asked but now she looked at Mark.

“Yes, yes, of course,” Mark replied.

“You are the same solicitor Mr Andrews had when he was arrested?” Mrs Hovey continued.

“Yes, I am. I’ve been Liam’s solicitor since he was arrested. I’ve stayed with him all this time,” Mark told her.

“Mr Andrews must be a special client of yours,” she added.

“Yes, he is,” Mark quietly answered her.

Mr Taylor loudly cleared his throat, drawing all their attention back to him. Liam took a deep breath. This was going to be the moment - the moment when they told him his fate.

“As I said this morning, we are an independent panel. No one has any influence over us,” Mr Taylor told him. “We have heard all the evidence today about you and your time here, and we have all made copious notes. We will now go away and consider our decision. Then we will meet together and decide your suitability for release. You will be informed of our decision, in writing, within fourteen days of today. Do you have any further questions?”

“Err… No,” Liam replied. He’d thought it would be all decided today, but he hadn’t asked anyone what would happen. Lots of people told him what he should do today - mainly about answering all their questions honestly, but he hadn’t asked anyone what to expect, not even Mark.

“Right then, we need to get a nurse to take us out of here,” Mr Taylor continued.

“I’ll call someone,” Dr Bradford said, picking up her phone off the table.

<><><><>

Mark tapped his finger on the top of the polished table.

“Where’s that Anthea? Has she got herself lost?” Mark announced.

“She’ll be back soon,” Liam replied.

They were still sat, waiting in the Conference Room. The nurse, Anthea, had arrived, in answer to Dr Bradford’s phone call and quickly escorted the Parole Board members out of there with a curt “I’ll be back for you two,” as she locked the room’s door behind herself. That was probably only five minutes ago, but it seemed so much longer now.

“How… How did you feel it all went?” Liam asked.

“I think it went well. You answered all their questions honestly. You told them what happened, not what you thought they wanted to hear. They can spot that a mile off. You created a good impression.”

But he hadn’t answered their questions right. His answers had been all over the place, and then he’d said that twatty thing at the end. They must think he was a dumb idiot who couldn’t answer a simple question directly.

“Do you think they’ll agree to me being released?” he asked Mark.

“That’s always difficult to say. Parole Boards are always so difficult to read. They’re not like a jury, they’ve done this many times before. But you’ve been a good patient here, a model patient. You’ve never gotten into trouble, never hurt another patient or a member of staff; you’ve never lashed out at anyone. They are so happy with you here that they allow you to leave here, unaccompanied, on day release. For God’s sake, you’ve got three good A-Levels while you were here. You’re the first patient here to achieve that. That Parole Board would be crazy not to release you. But, as I said, you just can’t predict what they’ll do.”

Liam nodded his reply. But would those three people see him, who he really was, through all those stupid answers he gave them?

The room’s door loudly opened. He looked up and saw Victoria entering the room.

“I’ve come to take you back to the ward, Liam,” Victoria said as she stepped through the open door. “Don’t worry, Mr Hiller, we can drop you back at reception, on our way back to the ward.”

“Isn’t Anthea coming back for us?” Liam said as he stood up from his chair.

“Don’t worry, she asked me to collect you two because… Well, Anthea’s busy,” Victoria replied.

“Let’s get going,” Mark said, as he stood up next to Liam.

<><><><>

Victoria pressed the intercom button, outside the ward, leant forward and spoke into it.

“It’s Victoria, I’ve got Liam with me.”

The next moment there were the electronic buzzing noise and the ward’s door swung open.

He followed Victoria through the open door.

He barely walked anyway down the ward’s corridor when the door of the Nurses’ Office opened and Janet stepped out of it.

“Liam, there you,” Janet said, smiling.

“Hello,” he replied. Had she been waiting for him?

“Can I have a quick word with you?” Janet asked, her voice dropping in tone.

“Sure,” Liam replied.

“I’ll join Pearl in the Common Room,” Victoria said, before hurrying off down the corridor.

“How did your Parole meeting go?” Janet asked him.

“I don’t know. Mark said it went well and I guess he should know,” Liam replied. He really didn’t know - what had he to compare it with?

“Mrs Hovey and Dr Bradford are very experienced. They’ve been on a lot of Parole Boards here,” Janet replied.

“But that Mr Taylor didn’t seem to know what he was doing.”

“It’s his first time on a Parole Board here. He’s used to them in prison.”

“Mark said that too, but… Will that effect his decision?”

“The other two will keep him in line, don’t worry.”

“Thanks.”

“Unfortunately, all you have to do is wait for the decision.”

“Yes, I know that.”

“And if that wait gets to you, you can always talk to me or Aiden, or any nurse,” Janet said.

“Thank you,” he replied.

<><><><>

Liam sat on his bed, reading his latest book, but he wasn’t really. His mind kept wandering and wondering: he’d read the same paragraph at least three times. His mind kept going back to that Parole Board, that afternoon. He kept going over what he’d said and what he should have said. Over and over, his mind now found the right answers he should have said. And for what he said at the end… Shit, what was he thinking? That Parole Board must think he’s… what did they think of him.

He pushed his eyes back to reading his book, but where had he got to? Why was he trying to read a book? He was trying to read it to fill his mind, to stop his mind dwelling on… well, on the afternoon that had just gone. He couldn’t go back and change what had happened, he couldn’t change what he had said, but his stupid mind kept wanting him to.

He closed his eyes. If he could just stop his mind…

“You okay?” Ed’s voice cut into his thoughts.

He opened his eyes and saw Ed standing in his room’s open door, still wearing his work overalls.

“I’m… I’m just… I don’t know,” he told Ed.

“How was your Parole hearing?”

“Mark said it went well, but I don’t know.”

“Why?”

“All my answers were just stupid and shit. I said such bollocks. I… I did it all wrong…”

Ed stepped into his room, opening his arms and said, “Come here.”

“I’ve ruined it all,” the words fell out of his mouth as he pushed himself up from his bed.

In the next moment, Ed was stood in front of him and wrapping his arms around Liam, pulling him into a tight hug. He grabbed hold of Ed too, enfolding his own arms around Ed’s back, and pressed his face into the side of Ed’s head. Ed’s short hair caressed the side of his face. Ed’s hair still had the scent of his work, of wood sap and wood chippings. Ed’s arms held him tight, pulling their bodies close together.

This was what he needed. He hadn’t known he needed it: his mind was stumbling over so many things, and here was Ed, who knew him so well, giving him exactly what he needed. He needed a hug. He needed the reassurance of physical affection. He needed Ed.

He pressed his face into Ed’s hair.

“Thank you,” he quietly told Ed.

“It’s why I’m here.”