13
It felt so good to be free, John Lucas thought, as he poured himself a cup of tea. It was these little luxuries that he would come to appreciate in the outside world: making a cup of tea whenever he wanted one, perhaps adding a chocolate biscuit or two, looking out across the town.
He wouldn’t stay here for long. The house held too many memories for him. It had been his family home once, but after the death of his mother while he was inside, the place didn’t hold the same charm anymore. It held memories — plenty of those. And whilst it had been kept clean and tidy thanks to his mother’s regular cleaner staying on after she’d died — paid for through provision in her will — it was definitely dated.
He’d need to do a lot of work to get rid of the detailed flowery wallpaper and wood-chip
