Events of Friday 29th July 1977, as remembered by PC Mike Thornber.

Reproduced here with his permission.

02:07

“Good God! What’s that noise?”

“Sounds like someone pretty desperate banging on a window to me. What’s wrong with the bloody door? It’s wide open!”

“Sounds like it’s upstairs, to me, whatever it is. But how the hell did anyone get up there? You keep an eye on the desk, I’ll pop upstairs.”

Joe ran upstairs at the double, and was back down again even quicker.

“Call Central and get a WPC out here sharpish. I’m getting the ladder...” He was out the door and if he said anything else, I didn’t catch it. I’d no idea what was going on, but Joe obviously had now, and if he thought we needed a WPC, we needed a WPC. I called.

“Hello Central. It’s Mike at Burnfield. We need a WPC, as soon as you can get her here.”

“Okay, Sheila’s here. What should I tell her?”

“Nothing, I don’t know what she’s needed for yet – Joe told me to call you for one, but I didn’t catch the rest of what he said and he’s outside now.”

“She’s on her way, anyway.”

“Thanks. I’ll be in touch again as soon as I know what’s going on, anyway.”

The banging had stopped.

I got up, went to the door, and looked out into the street. All quiet, but I could hear the rattle of the ladder in the yard. Not a soul about; as long as I kept within sight of the door, I could take a look around, but before I’d gone more than a couple of yards, Joe appeared out of the yard gate with a little girl in her nightie in tow.

“She was on the cycle shed roof! She’s a bit shook up, but I’m sure she’ll tell us all about it in a minute.”

“I’m not really much shook up, I was just out of breath, that’s all.” I noticed she was still panting a bit though.

“But if there’s only two of you, you need reinforcements. He’s still somewhere around. You’ve got to find him.”

Yikes, I thought, she’s a lot older than she looks.

“Okay,” Joe said, “Come into the station and tell us all about it. There’s a policewoman on the way – isn’t there, Mike? – and we can call more reinforcements if we think we need them when you’ve told us what this is all about.”

“Have you got a blanket or something? I’m freezing.”

Joe took his jacket off and gave it to her. “I don’t think we have,” he said. I couldn’t help noticing how funny she looked in Joe’s jacket. She was tiny.

“Now. What’s the story? How the hell did you come to be on the cycle shed roof?”

“My boyfriend’s on the loose somewhere with a knife, he’s completely crazy.”

“And you jumped onto the cycle shed roof to get away from him? That’s nine feet up!”

“No, no. I jumped out of the bedroom window onto our kitchen roof, than ran along the tops of the garden walls all the way up the street. Then I couldn’t get down. At least Paul isn’t nimble enough to have followed me along the wall tops, he’s somewhere on the street, I think.”

“Your boyfriend broke into your house?”

“No, we share the house. You think I’m just a little girl, don’t you? I’m twenty-eight!”

“And you share your house with a crazy boyfriend?” I was beginning to wonder who exactly was crazy – well, maybe not just beginning.

“He didn’t used to be crazy. He’s only been crazy for a few weeks, and he’s never been as crazy as this before. Well, he beat up his boss a few weeks ago, that was the beginning, but since then he’s not been too bad until tonight. But aren’t you going to get some reinforcements? You need to find him before he hurts someone – or himself.”

“Sheila’ll be here in a minute. She’ll stay with you. Two big burly policemen are enough to catch your lad, aren’t we?”

“He’s six foot four and strong as an ox. And crazy, and he’s got a knife. And you don’t know exactly where he is by now, either. Two of you can’t exactly comb the area without help.”

She’s all there, considering she’s just escaped from a mad knifeman. If she really has, I thought, but I didn’t say anything about that. “Okay, us two will stick together. We’ll start by visiting your house – he could be still there, or near there – and we’ll get reinforcements as soon as we can.”

“I’ll call Central right away. Not that they’ll have many chaps free at this time of night.” Joe was obviously less doubtful about the truth of the girl’s story than I was. He called.

“Hello Central. Joe at Burnfield here. How many men can you get to us, quick as possible?”

“We could spare a couple of chaps – four if you’re that desperate, but that’d only leave me on my own on the desk.”

“Send two then – we’ll call for the other two if we don’t find our knifeman straight away.”

“Okay. They’re on their way.”

“Thanks. We’ll be in touch when we know anything more.” He put the phone down.

“Now, young lady. About this knife. What’s it like? How big?”

“It’s our big kitchen knife. About a nine inch blade, I suppose, very sharp, pointed. I think he might have just sharpened it, too. I think that might have been the noise that woke me up. Otherwise, he was being very quiet. I didn’t hear him come into the house...”

“I thought you shared the house?”

“We do, but he was away visiting friends. I was a bit worried about him, because he didn’t tell me he was going, I just found a note from him when I got home from work, and he’d left his medication at home. I didn’t get to sleep for ages, worrying about him. Then I heard a noise, I didn’t know what it was, but I think now that he was sharpening the knife. Then I heard someone on the stairs, being very quiet – didn’t know whether it was him or a burglar – then I saw him coming into the room with the knife. He stabbed the bed just where my chest would have been if I’d not rolled over and off the bed. I was out the window pretty damn quick.”

Joe was right; the lass was genuine. Too much circumstantial detail for a fairy story. Joe was taking notes, but a proper statement would wait. Sheila could take it. But we ought at least to have got the lass’s name. And we couldn’t go looking for our knifeman until Sheila turned up.

“We ought at least to know your name – what’s your name, young lady?”

“Penny Lane. Penelope Louise Joyce Lane if you want the whole lot.”

Penny Lane? Really? I was beginning to wonder about her again.

She could see my reaction. “Yes, I really am Penny Lane. No I wasn’t named after the Beatles song – I’m twenty-eight, remember? I was named before the Beatles song.” Slightly, but not very, exasperated. She’s had to say exactly that a few times, I thought, she’s genuine enough.

Sheila arrived. Penny wanted to come with us to look for her boyfriend – Paul – but we insisted she stay with Sheila and give Sheila a statement. We got Penny’s address from her and set off there first. “I don’t have my key on me,” she said, “He could possibly still be inside, although I’m pretty sure he came out into the back garden looking for me, then went up the side of the house into the street when he realized I was off along the tops of the walls.”

We drove round to Penny’s house. The back door was open, and there was no-one in the house. He must really have had murder in his mind: he’d managed to stab the knife right through the mattress, which I reckon is no mean feat. There was no doubting the young lady’s story now. Young lady? She’s nearly my age. She looks about twelve.

As we came out of the house, my radio came to life. “Mike – Geoff and Brian are at Burnfield station now. Probably best if you get yourselves up there to plan your campaign. Sheila’s updated us on the situation, and is updating them now.”

“Okay. We’ll be there in a minute.”

At the junction, I looked left before turning right towards the station, and spotted a tall young man in the middle of the road a couple of hundred yards away. “That must be him. Joe, let them know we think we’ve got him. Tell them to send Geoff and Brian straight here, in case he runs and we need to block escape routes.”

He didn’t run. He still had the knife in his hand, but he didn’t offer any resistance. He just seemed very confused and dejected, and very meekly handed the knife to Joe, handle first. Geoff and Brian turned up as we were arresting him, and he sat quietly between Geoff and Joe in the back of the car as we took him back to the station.

He was admitted back into psychiatric care, and never prosecuted. Penny didn’t want to press charges, and he’d not threatened anyone else or resisted arrest.

I saw Penny around a few times after that, but for several years we didn’t speak to each other beyond saying hello. Then, half a lifetime later, when I’d not seen her for decades, we bumped into each other in my local pub. She’d left Burnfield long ago, and was just visiting old haunts.

We’d both retired by then, and spent a good hour chatting. She told me she was writing a book, and that the episode with Paul and the knife would be in it. We parted on the best of terms, and exchanged addresses and phone numbers. I don’t suppose I’ll ever see her again though – she lives in Edinburgh now.

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