The Criminal Escapades of Geoffrey Larkin Read Online Free Page A

at a screen that hung from the ceiling that gave instructions on various trains from different numbered platforms. He strolled over to join the group inspecting the board. At first he struggled to understand the workings of this timetable, until he realised, using his novice reading capabilities, he was looking at the arrivals side of the board. On the other side was the departures section, here he found a listing for Stockport. The train left from platform three at 5.35am. He smiled to himself, feeling quite pleased with the way he had on his own without any adult assistance solved this, what to him had been a massive problem.
    He looked at the girl’s watch on his wrist. Just one hour to wait.
    He had little difficulty getting past the ticket inspector; he slipped on to the platform when they opened some gates to allow an electric driven tractor to pass through, pulling several trailers piled high with stacks of newspapers. He was trying not to hurry but at the same time keep the trucks between himself and the inspector at the entrance. When he was a good distance along the platform he casually joined the people already there. This gate served platforms three and four, unsure which train he needed to catch he approached a woman standing on her own.
    â€˜Is the next train going to Stockport Mrs?’ he asked, looking up at the woman as she pulled her headscarf tighter around her head and re-adjusted the collar of her heavy coat, turned up against the cold wind that was blowing in the early hours of the morning across that open area. After she had taken a last draw from the remains she threw the end of a lit cigarette onto the railway lines. She looked down on the young lad who had spoken to her. It was obvious, by his scruffy appearance so early in the morning, that he had been sleeping rough; he looked no older than her eldest son.

    *
    Ada Cooper had just finished her night shift as a cleaner. She had started at eight o’clock the previous evening after all the staff had left the block of offices where she was employed, finishing at 4.30 in the morning, leaving her sufficient time to catch the 5.30 early morning train to Stockport. Once there, she would then prepare breakfast for her husband and two sons before he went to work and they went to school. It was only then she could relax, sitting down to enjoy the highlight of her day; soaking her aching feet in a bowl of hot water.
    â€˜What are your parents doing letting you wander around here at this time in the morning?’ she asked tersely.
    â€˜I have no parents,’ he sulkily replied over his shoulder as he walked away.
    â€˜This is the platform for Stockport,’ she shouted after him, feeling ashamed at being previously so abrupt.
    It was nearly 7.30am when Geoff eventually reached the burnt out house at the end of his street. He had stopped on the way at a second-hand shop to part with some of the items taken from the Dixon family but it was too early and they were closed.
    The old tramp had not been at the house that night. The ashes in the fireplace where they did their cooking were cold, so the old man had not been and left early. He looked in the secret hiding place and there was still a half full bottle of the cheap plonk the old guy drank, so he would be coming back again sometime. He needed to see Sir Reginald to ask his advice; he was experienced in this way of life, and he obviously knew the ropes, after all he was now the only friend he had in the world.
    He left the derelict house by sliding a loose board to one side, which was fastened over the existing smashed panel in the rear door. There were more people in the street now forming queues at the bus stops on the sides of the road, all making their way towards their place of work. They did not look very happy to be out so early in the morning; their hands plunged deep in their pockets and their shoulders hunched against the biting east wind.
    He made his way to his mother’s