On the day I was arrested, I’d left Mum to go to the shops and buy the food for the evening’s dinner. I returned home to find the police waiting for me. I drove along the road and flicked on the left indicator as I approached the cottage. But as I got closer I saw a police car pulling out of the driveway. They’d found me. Quickly I switched the indicator off and continued driving straight on. I fixed my gaze on the road ahead. Lights appeared in my rear view mirror. Blue flashing lights. The police had spotted me and were following. I drove on steadily for about a mile then pulled over.
‘Can I help you officers,’ I said, winding down the window.
‘What’s your name?’ one of them asked.
‘Matthew Taylor.’
‘You know why we’re here, don`t you?’
‘Yes I know,’ I said nodding my head.
‘Well get out the car then, you’re coming with us,’ and the conversation went dead.
They put the cuffs on and I was driven to Kirkwall police station, where I stayed for the next three days. I had nothing further to say to them, and they had nothing further to say to me. It was inevitable I’d be arrested, and knew it was coming because Mum and I had turned to the local authorities to put a roof over our heads. This meant our names were put into the system and no doubt alarm bells sounded. It was only a matter of time before the guillotine would fall to cut off my head. I had been on the run from the authorities for the past six months with both the British Army and Interpol looking for me. But now they had finally caught up, and I had no other choice but to surrender. Game over!
I sat on my bunk in a harshly lit cell with not much else to do than contemplate how I got here. Most of the time I just lay on the bunk staring at the cracks in the ceiling that doubtless had been stared at by countless prisoners before me.
On the third day, two soldiers arrived to escort me to Edinburgh. I was told I would be taken directly to Kirkwall airport and flown out.
‘Not until I see my mum I won’t be,’ I said.
One of the soldiers went out to fetch the police chief. He entered the interview room, pulled a chair up to the desk and tapped his pen on the table.
‘Now listen up son. We’re all on a tight schedule and you need to be on that plane out of here at five o’clock.’
I nodded in agreement, showing my concern as he continued.
‘If you don’t leave right now, you’ll miss the flight and create a whole new headache which none of us want.’
‘You understand why this is so important,’ he said before standing up to lead me out of the room.
‘Yes, completely. But I just need to see my mum first.’
‘Oh for God’s sake, do what you’re fucking told,’ he screamed, stopping in his tracks.
‘Yes, of course, just as soon as I see my mum.’
He turned and slammed both fists down on the desk, started to say something, but then turned and left the room.
I was allowed to see my mum.
When we arrived at Mum’s place she was her old cordial self.
‘Would you like a cup of tea, lads?’ she asked the soldiers.
‘Yeah why not, yes please. It’s not as if we have to be anywhere in a hurry anymore,’ one said.
I made a cup of tea for everyone, while Mum shared out the biscuits.
Mum and I knew what trouble I was in and I could only hope my punishment would be lenient. So it was with a heavy heart and dreadful foreboding that I bid Mum farewell, and left with my army escorts to face my fate.
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