officers could visit his relatives and find him as quickly as
possible.
Of course, the police were searching for the wrong person, as the prisoners had swapped identities. This gave Colin added time to make his way home. He dumped the bike away from his flat. He was
exhausted from all the frantic pedalling on the eight-mile journey. He rang the doorbell and waited for someone to answer. When no one did, he realised Karen must have gone to hospital or be at her
mother’s. He needed to change before he could do anything else and remembered that they kept a spare key with their neighbour.
The neighbour was an elderly lady who was hard of hearing and took a long time to answer his desperate ringing of her doorbell. Eventually, she opened the door and was very surprised to see
Colin. He asked for the spare key, and said as little as possible so as not to alarm her or give the game away.
‘I’m allowed home to be with Karen for the baby’s birth,’ he said, impatient for her to give him the key to their flat.
‘Oh, how nice. She left about an hour ago with her mother, who said they were off to the hospital.’
‘Had she started labour?’ he asked as she handed him the key.
‘Not sure, but she was clutching her tummy and moaning a lot.’
Colin thanked her for the key and hurried off to his flat. Once inside, he ran into the bedroom, threw off Barry’s smelly clothes and scrubbed off the tattoos with white spirit. Wanting to
look good for Karen, he then had a shower, washed his hair and shaved. Having put on a clean shirt and jeans, Colin searched the flat for some money so he could get a taxi to Croydon hospital. He
thought the first thing the police would check would be buses and the Underground.
Karen’s waters broke as she arrived at the hospital, and she was helped into a wheelchair by one of the porters. Her mother was beside her, holding her daughter’s hand tenderly as they were taken up to the maternity ward. Her mother unpacked the nightdress and baby bag, and
Karen sat on the edge of the bed as another contraction began. She moaned, holding onto her belly, and her mother rubbed her back to try to comfort her. A nurse gave Karen a hospital gown to change
into, and then a midwife examined her pelvis to find out what stage of labour she was at. She also checked the baby’s heart rate.
‘Will the baby’s father be joining you for the birth?’ the nurse asked politely.
‘I wish he was, but he’s away on business,’ Karen replied between deep breaths.
Chapter Twelve
The police arrived at Barry Marsden’s home address on a run-down estate in Peckham, South London, but no one was there. They also called on two relatives who appeared not
to care and said they had not seen him in years. As the solicitor had suggested, they also began to check the fast-food joints near the courthouse and his local shopping centre, but without
success.
One hour later, Colin arrived at the hospital and at once spoke to the receptionist. Checking Karen’s name on the computer, she asked who he was. Colin, fearing the
prison or police might call the hospital, said he was her brother. She told him that Karen was in the maternity ward on the third floor. He pressed for the lift but, when it didn’t come
immediately, he was so impatient that he ran up the three flights of stairs. Excited and out of breath, he took a while to explain to a nurse that he was Karen’s husband and he’d rushed
over from his work. The nurse checked her clipboard and smiled.
‘You are in luck, Mr Burrows. She’s in labour but the baby’s not arrived yet. She’s just been taken to the delivery room.’
The nurse took Colin to the delivery wing, where she spoke to a rather plump senior nurse who handed him a gown and mask.
‘She will be pleased to see you. Your wife is quite a feisty young lady and she’s getting impatient, but she’s not dilated enough yet. It shouldn’t be long though. Try
and help calm her
possible.
Of course, the police were searching for the wrong person, as the prisoners had swapped identities. This gave Colin added time to make his way home. He dumped the bike away from his flat. He was
exhausted from all the frantic pedalling on the eight-mile journey. He rang the doorbell and waited for someone to answer. When no one did, he realised Karen must have gone to hospital or be at her
mother’s. He needed to change before he could do anything else and remembered that they kept a spare key with their neighbour.
The neighbour was an elderly lady who was hard of hearing and took a long time to answer his desperate ringing of her doorbell. Eventually, she opened the door and was very surprised to see
Colin. He asked for the spare key, and said as little as possible so as not to alarm her or give the game away.
‘I’m allowed home to be with Karen for the baby’s birth,’ he said, impatient for her to give him the key to their flat.
‘Oh, how nice. She left about an hour ago with her mother, who said they were off to the hospital.’
‘Had she started labour?’ he asked as she handed him the key.
‘Not sure, but she was clutching her tummy and moaning a lot.’
Colin thanked her for the key and hurried off to his flat. Once inside, he ran into the bedroom, threw off Barry’s smelly clothes and scrubbed off the tattoos with white spirit. Wanting to
look good for Karen, he then had a shower, washed his hair and shaved. Having put on a clean shirt and jeans, Colin searched the flat for some money so he could get a taxi to Croydon hospital. He
thought the first thing the police would check would be buses and the Underground.
Karen’s waters broke as she arrived at the hospital, and she was helped into a wheelchair by one of the porters. Her mother was beside her, holding her daughter’s hand tenderly as they were taken up to the maternity ward. Her mother unpacked the nightdress and baby bag, and
Karen sat on the edge of the bed as another contraction began. She moaned, holding onto her belly, and her mother rubbed her back to try to comfort her. A nurse gave Karen a hospital gown to change
into, and then a midwife examined her pelvis to find out what stage of labour she was at. She also checked the baby’s heart rate.
‘Will the baby’s father be joining you for the birth?’ the nurse asked politely.
‘I wish he was, but he’s away on business,’ Karen replied between deep breaths.
Chapter Twelve
The police arrived at Barry Marsden’s home address on a run-down estate in Peckham, South London, but no one was there. They also called on two relatives who appeared not
to care and said they had not seen him in years. As the solicitor had suggested, they also began to check the fast-food joints near the courthouse and his local shopping centre, but without
success.
One hour later, Colin arrived at the hospital and at once spoke to the receptionist. Checking Karen’s name on the computer, she asked who he was. Colin, fearing the
prison or police might call the hospital, said he was her brother. She told him that Karen was in the maternity ward on the third floor. He pressed for the lift but, when it didn’t come
immediately, he was so impatient that he ran up the three flights of stairs. Excited and out of breath, he took a while to explain to a nurse that he was Karen’s husband and he’d rushed
over from his work. The nurse checked her clipboard and smiled.
‘You are in luck, Mr Burrows. She’s in labour but the baby’s not arrived yet. She’s just been taken to the delivery room.’
The nurse took Colin to the delivery wing, where she spoke to a rather plump senior nurse who handed him a gown and mask.
‘She will be pleased to see you. Your wife is quite a feisty young lady and she’s getting impatient, but she’s not dilated enough yet. It shouldn’t be long though. Try
and help calm her
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