A Father's Coice

Robbie strolled up the road, it had changed. The hardware shop was now a British Heart Foundation charity shop and the greengrocer, a pizza takeaway. The street now hosted three charity shops and seven various takeaways and after dark it was a magnet for drunks and druggies. Robbie had previously reconnoitred the area, and found no street CCTV but, no doubt, the shops had cameras that would show the pavement.

This was his manor ten years ago and he knew every bolt hole and alley within a two-mile radius of this street. Only a couple of shops remained from his time, the important one was Jackson’s the Jewellers. A sign in the window announced they were moving to new premises in the shopping centre, so, it was now or never.

He stepped into the alley beside the BHF charity shop and from a black holdall pulled out and donned a bright canary yellow hoodie. Robbie stuffed the holdall behind a large wheelie bin and pulled on a pair of gloves before checking the revolver was still firmly tucked into the back of his jeans.

Pulling up the yellow hood he strode back onto the street confident all anyone would remember would be the hoodie. Outside Jackson’s he paused, took a deep breath, and swallowed hard. He yanked a Donald Trump mask out of one pocket of the hoodie and pulled it over his head, the other pocket held a plastic bag. Robbie pushed open the shop door, he turned the open signed to closed and dropped the latch. Retrieving the gun from the back of his jeans he brandished it. The two women assistants screamed.

Robbie put on a bad Scottish accent. “Stay where you are and get down on the floor. Face down.”

The women did as they were told at once. Jacob was small and flabby but brave, he stepped towards Robbie, who using the gun butt, hit Jacob on the side of the head. Jacob crumpled to the floor.

“Idiot!” Robbie said. “You two, drag him into the kitchen.”

The two women rose from the floor and stared at the gun. Faces deathly pale they grabbed Jacob’s arms and dragged him into the kitchenette. Robbie closed the door behind them and barricaded it with a chair. He ran into Jacob’s office, the door to the safe was open as he knew it would be. He shook his head at the lackadaisical attitude to security, but grateful for it, all the same.

Trays of cut but unmounted diamonds and other gemstones poured into the carrier bag followed by solid gold chains and bracelets from the shop displays. Next came the high-end wrist watches and finally rings, all priced at over a thousand pounds.

He saw a handbag behind the counter, digging inside he found a mobile phone. Robbie placed it on the counter and dialled 999. When the operator answered asking which service he just said, “ambulance, Jackson’s Jewellers,” in his awful Scottish accent. He then left the shop, leaving the phone line open.

He pulled off the mask and stuffed it into the plastic bag, then head down returned to the alley beside the BHF charity shop. He removed the hoodie and placed it and the plastic bag into the holdall and left the alley at the far end. Before the sirens were heard on the street Robbie was over a mile away climbing into his Fiat 500.

Twenty minutes later Robbie pulled up at Mick Delaney’s warehouse and walked inside.

“Robbie, you did it? Good. What do you have for me?” Mick smiled greedily.

Delaney was excited at having Robbie indebted to him. He was going to be very useful.

Robbie glared at Mick. “I know the value of the goods. A hundred and fifty thousand is what I need. You’ll be able to sell the stuff for more than double.”

Robbie tipped the contents of the carrier bag onto the desk. Mick nodded as he inspected the diamonds with a jeweller’s loop.

“Excellent quality. Okay,” Mick said.

Mick opened a drawer and took out a banker’s draft. He waved it in front of his face before giving it to Robbie.

“Took some time to organise this but, you’re worth every penny to me. I’ll be in touch.” Mick’s smile widened.

Robbie nodded, turned and left. He drove straight to the bank; they were used to him depositing large amounts from the charity events he regularly organised.

His eyes were glassy with unshed tears, but his smile was wide and warm as he approached the clerk.

“We have it. An anonymous donor has donated what we need. We can take her now. Isn’t it wonderful,” he said.

“I’m so pleased for you. When will you go?”

“As soon as we can get flights.” The threatened tears finally rolled down his cheeks.

The clerk smiled and gave him the deposit slip. “Good luck, Robbie.”

“Thanks”

Robbie speeded home treating amber lights as green and speed limits as mandatory. He slid to a halt, slamming the car door he ran in the house shouting.

“Clare, Clare. We’ve got the money. Pack your bags and organise the flights.”

“Robbie, you’re not joking, are you?”

Robbie controlled his breathing to calm himself down.

“No, Clare, I’m not joking. A donation, anonymous. It will take me a week or two to get everything sorted at work, but you can take Jenni straight away and get started on the tests. I’ll follow as soon as I can.”

Clare collapsed onto the sofa and softly wept. Robbie reached out patted her shoulder. The last time they had held each other was the day they had both sobbed on hearing the diagnosis of their six-year-old daughter having a brain tumour. Since then, they’d wept alone.

The last six months had put an unbearable strain on their marriage. Robbie knew it was broken but they kept going for Jenni’s sake. He would spend all his time at work telling himself and Clare it was to earn the overtime to get them to America. In moments of clarity he admitted, to himself, it was his way of avoiding the problem.

“I’ve got to go to work now so I can talk to them about a leave of absence. If I’m lucky they’ll let me have six weeks.”

Clare pulled herself together and smiled at Robbie.

“Get yourself off. I’ve got lots to do,” Clare said.

Three days later Robbie dropped Clare and Jenni at the airport for their flights to Houston, Texas. Clare had a sister living there and the hospital that could treat Jenni was only an hour away.

Jenni was excited. “Can we see Princess Aurora and Belle and Jasmine and …”

Clare cut her off. “I can’t promise. Let’s see how it goes, Love.”

Jenni nodded. “Bye, Daddy. See you soon.” She skipped into Departures.

Robbie waved as Clare ran after their daughter. He heaved a massive sigh; he could drop the front he’d been putting on since the robbery.

Word on the street was that he had been spotted as he was changing out of his disguise. He wasn’t concerned, the witness was Sally ‘the Snitch’ Johnson. She was always calling the police claiming to have witnessed one crime or another. She had never named anyone, to date.

On the drive home from the airport Robbie’s phone never stopped ringing, it was Delaney. Robbie ignored it until he got home.

“You were seen,” Mick spat at him.

Robbie could see the steam coming out of Delaney’s ears, even over the phone. It made him smile.

“And don’t ignore me when I call you.”

Robbie kept his voice matter of fact. “I couldn’t answer you. I was driving and this phone you gave me can’t connect to my car’s Bluetooth. That’s what you get for buying cheap burner phones.”

Mick Delaney had much to learn. Robbie smiled.

“Just remember, you belong to me now. I suppose I’ll have to take care of the witness,” Mick snarled down the phone.

“No! The so-called witness is Sally ‘the Snitch’ and no-one takes notice of her.”

“Hmm. Meeting at the warehouse at nine tonight. Don’t be late.”

“Okay, Mick, see you then.”

Delaney was planning a security van raid and was pushing Robbie for the exact route, but details were not finalised until the morning of the run. Two weeks of planning were brought to an abrupt halt when Robbie texted Delaney from the departure lounge before turning off his phone and boarding his flight to Houston.

“Flying to USA see you in 6 weeks.”

Robbie knew McKenzie would be apoplectic, but he didn’t care.

+++++

“We have all the test results in, now,” Dr Schwartz said. He flicked on the monitor showing Jenni’s brain scan. “You can see the tumour is deep in her brain. I’m glad you got here when you did, another month and it would probably have been too late even though it is very slow growing.”

Clare and Robbie stared at the screen. Robbie sighed in relief; they had made it in time. Clare’s tears silently flowed as she listened to the doctor.

“Now, the good news is that we can do the operation. The bad news is that the only path to the tumour is through the back here. It will almost certainly cost her, her sight.”

“Jenni will be blind?” Robbie said.

“Yes, but she will be alive.” Dr Schwartz impressed on them.

He let the information to sink in. Clare’s hand reached out for Robbie’s.

“Look, go and get yourselves coffee. Come back in an hour and we’ll talk more then, when you’ve had time to let things digest.”

An hour later Robbie and Clare were back in the doctor’s office. Robbie leaned forward.

“If the tumour is slow growing, do we have a week?” Robbie asked.

Clare turned and glared at Robbie. “You’d delay her operation for a week. Why would you take a chance with our daughter’s life?”

“Clare, what does Jenni want more than anything in the world? She wants to see the Disney princesses. I want to give her that chance. Her last visual memory. Please Clare?”

Dr Schwartz smiled. “A week won’t make any difference. Be back by Thursday afternoon and we’ll schedule the operation for Friday.”

Robbie turned is pleading eyes on Clare. Clare’s gaze moved between Robbie and the doctor, who gave her a slight nod.”

“Okay.”

Two in the afternoon the following Thursday Robbie and Clare listened to Jenni tell the nurses for the third time about her trip to Disney World. She reeled off all the princesses’ names she had spoken to. She was so excited and played with the souvenir dolls all that afternoon.

The operation went well but Jenni woke up blind. Being young she adjusted quickly. The resilience of children constantly surprised the medical staff. Robbie and Clare were astounded and exceptionally grateful.

Clare would need to stay in Houston for the next four months for follow up care. The day before Robbie was to fly home he sat Clare down.

“Things have not been good between us, and I know you are thinking of staying.”

Clare opened her mouth to speak but Robbie stopped her.

“Clare. Stay. There was no surprise donor. I stole the money we needed. I don’t want you and Jenni to suffer because of what I’ve done. So, stay and build a life for yourselves here. The only thing I ask is that you tell Jenni how much I love her.”

His eyes filled but with shear will power he stopped a single tear from falling.

“I don’t care what you did, you saved our daughter,” Jenni said.

For the first time in months, they embraced.

Robbie said a tearful goodbye to Jenni, knowing it would be the last time he would ever see her.

“I love you, Poppet. Never forget it, will you?” Robbie said as he hugged her tightly.

“No Daddy. I’ll not forget. Come back soon,” she said as he left.

+++++

Before Robbie travelled to the US he’d placed their 3 bedroomed terrace up for sale. The house was in an excellent school catchment area, and it sold within the first week, so his first visit was to the solicitor to finalise the sale. The money would be sent to Clare, not that there would be much left after the mortgage was paid.

Robbie packed up the important items he knew Clare and Jenni would want and had them shipped Houston. He had been busy in the house, skulking about as he did not want Mick Delaney or work to know he was home just yet.

Early in the morning he passed the local newsagents. the headline board outside shouted out the headline.

Local Woman Killed on her Own Doorstep

Robbie went inside to buy the paper the news story continued.

Sally Johnson, a local woman with well-known mental health issues was stabbed in the entrance to her flat above a charity shop. Nothing appears to have been taken. Police are linking the murder to Jacksons the Jeweller’s robbery and murder eight weeks earlier. We reported last week that the shop’s owner, Jacob Jackson, died from injuries he sustained during the raid after spending weeks in a coma.

Robbie was devastated about Jacob’s death. He knew he would not be able to cope with the guilt and late at night he strolled the a railway bridge outside of town.

The following morning Detective Inspector John Davies opened his emails. He noticed one from Robbie and assuming it was another update about Jenni, he opened it.

John

I will be dead by the time you read this. You know what it’s like for a copper to be banged up and I couldn’t stand to be in solitary confinement for years. Here is my confession.

I pulled the Jackson’s robbery. I didn’t mean for Jacob to get hurt but he tried to stop me. I was desperate for the money to get Jenni to the States for the operation. I must have hit him harder than I thought. I am truly sorry about his death.

Mick Delaney fenced the goods. He also had Sally killed. Delaney assumed I was a bent cop and would be passing information onto him for the foreseeable future. That was never my plan. Attached are voice files of all my conversations with him and his minions. I hope it will put them away for a long while.

I won’t ask for forgiveness but maybe a little understanding.

Your friend and colleague

Former Detective Sergeant Robbie Wilkins.

PS Jenni is blind, but she should live a long and hap

py life.

John wondered what he would be prepared to do to save his five-year old grandson’s life.