STALKER

Chapter 38 - 28th June

To Kill a Mocking Bird - Chapter 3

Catching Walter Cunningham in the schoolyard gave me some pleasure, but when I was rubbing his nose in the dirt Jem came by and told me to stop.

"You're bigger'n he is," he said.

"He's as old as you, nearly," I said.

"He made me start off on the wrongfoot."

"Let him go, Scout. Why?"

"He didn't have any lunch," I said and explained my involvement in Walter's dietary affairs. Walter had picked himself up and was standing quietly listening to Jem and me. His fists were half-cocked as if expecting an onslaught from both of us. I stomped at him to chase him away, but Jem put out his hand and stopped me. He examined Walter with an air of speculation. "Your daddy Mr. Walter Cunningham from Old Sarum?" he asked, and Walter nodded

My jump back to watch Agatha make her getaway and a peaceful visit with my parents had the desired effect. All the crap was out of my system and I came back home in a good mood. First things first I had to have a cigarette. The only drawback of staying with my parents no smoking. I gnawed through a chew by the time I went to bed. I lit up my first for the day and made up for lost time.

I removed Chapter two of "To Kill a Mocking Bird." and replaced it with chapter 3. Which reminded me that I hadn't seen John for days. I'm starting to wonder if after the last outburst he's left for good. It was unlikely. He was just a cranky old bastard that liked to sulk. As unpredictable as he was I still liked having him around. I planned a new surprise for him when he eventually appeared again.

There was a small box room next to the lounge room. When I emptied the house it had been a store room, with racks of clothes and boxes. It was narrow, with a single square panel of stained glass high on the wall designed to catch the afternoon light. The floor, unlike the rest of the house, was tiled with a bold, sickly green and brown Victorian pattern. It still had the original pull light switch hanging from the ceiling. I had painted the room white like all the others.

The 8 x10s I'd gotten printed were tacked a foot or so below the picture rail. There were 9 photographs in all. Along one wall the first two photographs were of the interior of the house that I used as my target point on my first three jumps. One photograph was of the rain falling from the gapping roof on to the staircase. It was beautiful shadowy image. The moon light illuminated the the stairs and the rain making everything glisten.  The second photograph was taken of the foyer area from the front door, it was of  the staircase, the peeling wallpaper, the plants sprouting from cracks in the walls and the sheen of the rain on the broken tile floor. The next photograph on that side was of the tables in front of the Café Fleurer and the big arched windows. The last was a blurry image of Jules running after me. His angry face snarling at me, his cap flying of his head. In the background you can see John racing after him.

On the other wall was photograph of Jules with his arm around John inside the farmhouse. He was wishing him a happy birthday. They were looking at each other smiling, there was no mistaking the intimacy they share in that looked. The last two photos were of John and his mother in front of there house in Addison Gardens. John a wee lad and his mother in her prime. Te two photos I framed take pride of place under the stained glass. The family group and the one of John and myself stared back at you as you walked in.

It didn't take long to organize the photographs, finding the right key to the room was another matter. All the keys to the house live in an old tin Arnotts box and I had to try several of them before I found the right one. Our private gallery was ready. These photos were only for my eyes and Granddad.