Act 4: An Error in JudgementFriday, 12 August 1967
In the end, he had time to walk back to Notting Hill rather than be forced to try and find a cab. He ambled along the edge of Hyde Park, hands in his pockets, enjoying the clean, fresh start to the day before the exhaust fumes became overwhelming.
He climbed the narrow stair to their little bedsit and worked the key in the temperamental lock, calling, “It’s me, sorry, I’m a dirty stop-out,” before he realised from the echo that he was talking to an empty flat.
Shit. He hoped that just meant Les had found someone to go home with, rather than being in hospital or the cells or the Thames.
He had a quick shave and got changed into his teaching clothes…suit, shirt, tie…and there was boring Mr Wright looking back at him from the marbled mirr
