But a black cloud was about to cast its shadow over the residents of Farley Hill – and for one it would shut out the sun forever. The black cloud in the form of John Thomas Straffen was at that moment spread-eagled over the slate roof of an outbuilding behind the main wall of Broadmoor. He had slipped in his thick soled working boots as he groped his way up the roof. As he found his feet, the door of the main building behind opened. He prayed it wasn’t Mr Cash, the work party attendant, but it was John’s co-patient Whitcombe. ‘Mr Cash wants to know when you’re coming back in?’ Whitcombe shouted loud enough for Mr Cash to hear inside the building. He couldn’t stop himself smiling at the sight of John in three layers of clothing slipping and sliding around the roof like a beached whale. ‘Tell him I’m shaking my duster,’ John shouted back. ‘Back in a jiff.’ Whitcombe shouted something back and shut the door with a bang. John continued his ascent and clutched the top of the wall, levering himself onto the top to take a nervous peek over the side. He blinked at the road winding down the hill that he last saw from the back of a police car bringing him into Broadmoor six months ago. Like a passenger contemplating jumping over the ship’s side, common sense told him to give up and go back down the roof. It looked an awful long way down. What John had shouted back to Whitcombe just then was the truth. He was shaking his duster, or had been until he jumped onto the disinfectant drums under the wall and hauled himself onto the shed roof – and he’d never be back. He’d never be back because if you escaped from Broadmoor they didn’t send you back. He told everyone that but no one knew where he’d got it from. He wanted to escape to show them he could be free and not harm anyone. That would show them he hadn’t done the two Bath murders. They’d say, ‘Look, he got out of the place and didn’t hurt a fly.’ He looked over the edge of the wall again and saw a fire hydrant cover that might break his fall, or it might break his legs – he didn’t know whether to aim for that or the grass bank. He swung off the top of the wall, clutching the stone ledge with his hands and allowing his feet to dangle under him in space, closed his eyes and let go.