As the Clock Struck Ten

by Gill Mather

  THE CALL HAD come much sooner than he might have hoped. He was in bed. He had his mobile on his bedside table and he had diverted the home `phone line to the mobile. It rang insistently at about eleven thirty that night. He hadn't been in bed for long and wasn't asleep. He grabbed the `phone and answered. Relief flooded through him at hearing her voice. All sorts of emotions assailed him but it was difficult as they weren't well acquainted.

  He asked how she was and she said that she was all right and was staying in a flat owned by a friend of her brother’s but she couldn't stay much longer as the friend wanted to let it permanently. Don hesitated and then said that that must mean that she wasn't with her husband any longer. Grace confirmed that this was true. Don swallowed, took the plunge and asked if they could meet and she agreed, quite readily it seemed to him. They arranged to meet at a pub near the flat she was occupying lunchtime the following day which was a Saturday.

  IT WAS ANOTHER gastro-pub of course. They all seemed to be now. Those that you went into that weren't, were pretty down at heel, in need of redecoration, often in fact quite dirty. He had his credit card with him this time and bought them both lunch and Grace told him her story. It was simple enough. Her son Luke who lived at home was away for Easter. She was sick and tired of her husband Greg’s extra-marital activities and she took the opportunity of Luke’s absence to ask Greg if he would please leave and go and live somewhere else. With perhaps his PA Cindy. Greg had laughed at her and told her she was cracking up and talking complete rubbish as usual. The company’s medical insurance would pay for her to go and see a shrink. He wasn't going anywhere.

  All right then, said Grace, I’ll leave if you won't.

  Over his and her own dead body, said Greg. If she tried to set foot out of the house, he would personally stop her. If she left when he wasn't there, he would track her down and make her come back. He’d get her certified as the delusional nutter she clearly was. She would never escape from him. They were intended for each other and that was how if would remain. If all else failed then he wouldn’t hesitate to kill her. She had nowhere to go anyway. Who’d have a nutter in their house, someone who was paranoid and imagined things the whole time. If she left he would stop her using their joint credit cards, he would freeze the bank accounts and have his income paid into a different account. She wouldn't get a penny out of him. He would take steps to try and get her sacked from her job. She’d have to live on the streets. If she went to her brother’s, Greg would get the place torched. He knew people who would do this for him, people he had something on who would do it for him without anyone ever being able to prove any connection to him and who could do it without leaving any trace back to themselves.

  She had scoffed at that and said she didn't have to listen to this, calling him an adulterer. She had left the room, gone upstairs and started to heave suitcases from off the top of the wardrobe intending to bundle her clothes into them and leave there and then and go to her brother’s house. But Greg had followed her upstairs. He had grabbed her by the arms and held her firmly as she struggled. You can't do this to me, she had said. But he took no notice. Her arms and hands she noticed were going numb and, looking at Greg’s crazed expression, she started to scream.

  “Shut up woman,” he had hissed at her and when she didn't he had let go of her arms and had swiped her viciously across the side of her head with the back of his hand, the force of the blow throwing her across the room where she collapsed onto the floor and lay there completely stunned not just physically but mentally too that this should have happened. I’m entitled to leave you if I want to, she had wanted to say but she just lay there whimpering quietly unable to take it all in.

  “Drunk again!” Greg had sneered from the bedroom door and stormed off downstairs.

  Grace said she had towed the line after that and had tried to make Greg think she was going to stay with him. She was too ashamed to tell Don that that night, Greg had forced her to have sex with him. She had thought about going to the police about it the next day, going to see a Solicitor to get an injunction against him, but she felt that she wouldn't be believed. She had tentatively called a few firms of Solicitors the following day while at work and been told that the usual initial payment on account for that sort of thing was at least £1,000 minimum and that her income was borderline for getting legal aid. The timeframes quoted also seemed excessive for someone who needed her problems to be dealt with and to go away there and then and that she might have to stay in the house with her husband until a court date could be obtained. And then of course she might not get her order.

  At church on the Sunday, Easter Sunday, she had been relieved to get out of the house. Greg had insisted on taking and collecting her that day. She knew Don had seen her bruises and she had felt ashamed.

  “Oh Grace!” Don had said to her across the table, their meal over, drinking their coffee.

  The next day was Easter Monday and she had to keep up the pretence at home. Luke was still away for another week and on the Tuesday she had gone to work as usual, she had spoken to her boss and then returned home. She had bundled her clothes into the suitcases, more clothes and other things into bin bags and she had dumped in her car as many articles of hers as she could, paperwork, bank statements, laptop, PC, printer, CDs, favourite DVDs and books, and she had taken herself off to her brother Edward’s home. She hadn't dared to tell her brother and sister-in-law that she would be turning up in case they wouldn't agree or told Greg.

  They were both there as Edward had the week off work and they were looking after their grandchildren. It seemed only fair to mention Greg’s threats to torch the house if she was there. Obviously her brother was beside himself. He made a few calls and said he had found her a small studio flat of a friend she could stay in for three or four weeks max. He made her promise to make it clear to Greg if she had any contact with him that she wasn't staying with Edward nor with anyone connected to Edward and not to go to work or anywhere near her home until this thing died down. Edward made her get straight back in her car and follow him to the accommodation where he met his friend and the key was handed over. Nothing was said about Grace’s circumstances.

  “I’ll owe you,” Edward had said to his friend.

  “So,” Grace had said to Don, “I’ve been holed up in the little flat for the last three weeks. How did you find me? I don't think you even know my surname.”

  He smiled. “With difficulty,” he said.

  “Thank you. For finding me.” Again their eyes had met. He knew for certain now that he loved her and wanted her. His cheeks reddened as he said, “If you have to leave the flat, or even if you didn't, you’re very welcome to come and stay with me. I mean at my house. I don't see why Greg should find you there.”

  “So you don't mind risking your house being torched by an irate husband?” Grace said softly.

  “I would,” he said, “risk many things to be with you.”

  Grace had nodded. “Er, it would take me only a short time to pack.”

  “Today then.”

  “Yes, all right today. Do you want to follow me back?” He had paid the bill, they had left, he had helped her take her possessions to her car and she had put her key through the flat’s letterbox. Very soon they were on the dual carriageway back to the next county and to Don’s home.

  They had hidden her car in his garage and he had given her Emma’s room for the time being, but that night she came into his bedroom and slept with him.

  RECALLING ALL THIS in the glorious surroundings of the old church, Don reached for and took Grace’s hand and he said a little prayer to whoever for their continued happy life together.

  016 The Ordeal

  AS THE CLOCK STRUCK TEN, Don passed by the sitting room window, glanced out, turned away and quickly looked out again. Two men in dark suits were walking up his front path. He hurried to check his diary wondering if he’d forgotten an appointment this morning but there was nothing to suggest that.

  Answering the d
oor he was surprised to see the men at once brandishing warrant cards at him and introducing themselves as Detective Inspector Norton and Detective Sergeant Pearce. Puzzled Don smiled, he hoped pleasantly, while perusing the identification. No doubt such things could be easily faked these days though these men didn't look like a couple of muggers or burglars. The police officers enquired if he was Donald Morrison and he confirmed this and then they asked if they could come in and talk to him about something. Don was minded to refuse but decided that standing on the threshold would just get uncomfortable for all three of them if they were there for any length of time.

  He assumed they’d come to ask him about some local crime and whether he could offer any information. He could think of nothing he knew about any events in the vicinity. He took and tried to find time as a business owner to read the Standard but frankly found a lot of it tedious and mundane. He couldn't think of any recent crimes he’d read or heard about in the immediate vicinity. Certainly not crimes serious enough to warrant a DI and a DS. All these things ran through his mind as he led the men to the sitting room and offered them a chair each. He sat down himself and tried to look interested.

  The DI sat forward clasping his hands in front of him resting his arms on his legs and said apparently conversationally, “Mr. Morrison, we’re conducting an investigation following a report we’ve received that you have for some years conducted an illegal sexual relationship with your daughter Emma Morrison and that you continue to do so. We understand she is now eighteen years of age but of course the relationship is still incestuous, that is outside the bounds of….”

  “Yes,” Don, increasingly shocked at this little speech, broke in, “I know what the legal definition of incest is. What on earth are you talking about? If this isn't some hideous joke, then it has to be a monumental mistake.”

  Norton replied, “There is also the question of Emma being forced to engage in sexual activity. We are duty bound to investigate any reports of this nature that we receive. We were hoping that you would agree to come to the station and answer some questions.”

  “No. I mean there’s no substance in any such allegation. It’s completely ridiculous. I can't think how you got hold of such an idea. Emma’s away in France at the moment anyway. I presume it wasn't her that made these allegations. It’s ridiculous!” he repeated.

  “So we understand. That she’s out of the country. Our information is that she left England because she was frightened of you sir.”

  “I can't believe this.” Don rubbed his eyes and shook his head. “Of course she’s not frightened of me. Look I’ll show you the letter she left. It’s just over there.” He got up and picked the note off the small table near the window and handed it to the DI who scanned it quickly.

  “It looks as though she left in a hurry without telling you sir.”

  “Well I didn't know she was going no.”

  “What did she mean by saying that she thought it would be a good idea to get away for a couple of weeks? Why would that have been?”

  Don sighed. “We’ve got a young man staying with us. My partner’s son. I found out he and Emma were….involved and I wasn't very pleased. I spoke to the young man about it actually. Luke’s his name. Not to Emma but I suppose Luke told Emma and they decided to get out of the way for a few weeks.”

  “Could you be more precise what you mean by saying they were involved.”

  “They were sleeping together.”

  “So you were upset that your daughter was having a relationship with another man?”

  “Look I’m sorry. What do you mean by another man? She’s my daughter, she’s only eighteen. The young man was a guest here and I thought when I found out that it wasn't suitable. My partner actually has since persuaded me not to take it so seriously.”

  “How did you find out about your daughter and the young man sleeping together?”

  “I heard them. It was early. I’d got up early about Wednesday or Thursday last week because I couldn't sleep and came down to work and I heard them in her room which is downstairs at the back of the house rather isolated from the rest of the house.”

  “Why did you go to your daughter’s room early in the morning?”

  “I didn't go to her room. I went and listened outside the door when I heard noises. I realised what it was and went and waited for Luke outside in the summerhouse where he’s been sleeping and has an art studio. He, er, he’s a very good artist. Look I’m sorry but I’m not going to answer any more of your questions until I know how these allegations came about. I feel sure Emma would not have reported such lies to the police.”

  “She told a third party and the third party reported it to us.”

  “Well this third party must have got it wrong somehow. Or simply fabricated the whole thing for some reason I can't imagine.”

  “What the third party says they were told by Emma is very specific and that others witnessed their conversations recently. Also, the informant saw signs of violence. Specifically bruises on Emma’s body and upper legs. And another party has made allegations against you as well.”

  “Another p…. This is….I can't believe….” Don frowned. “Look I don't feel happy to continue with this. Unless you propose to arrest me, I think you’d better leave.” Don got up but the officers remained seated.

  Calmly the DI said, “If a person is innocent, they have nothing to fear. It’s usually better to co-operate. We were hoping in fact that we could send a couple of forensic officers round to examine Emma’s room. If you haven't been conducting an illegal relationship with your daughter, then a forensic examination should back that up. If we leave you here now, you might attempt to eradicate evidence, but if you accompany us to the station, then we can get a small team round here today probably. It’ll only take an hour or so and while at the station you can make a statement. And that’ll probably be the end of the matter. When Emma returns and we’re able to talk to her, if she backs you up, then no further action would be taken.”

  “I can't have a lot of strangers tramping through Emma’s room without her permission.”

  “Can you get hold of her in France?”

  “We’ve tried calling a few times but both their mobiles seem to be switched off. It’s expensive receiving calls when you’re abroad when you’re on a contract. She’s just a student without much money and Luke hasn’t got a job at all.”

  “If you wanted to come to the station to provide what further information you can, then you could of course have a Solicitor present. Do you have a Solicitor sir?”

  “Well not for this sort of thing no. Although….” Don hesitated, “I know Martin Ashby of Seymours.”

  The two officers looked at each other and the DS raised an eyebrow.

  “Look,” said Don, “I wrote a website for them recently. In fact I’m still clearing up a few loose ends. I have no other knowledge of or connection with them.”

  “Well it’s your choice sir. We can either arrest you now on suspicion of unlawful sexual intercourse with your daughter Emma, or else you can come along voluntarily. You can give us permission to examine Emma’s room or we can get a warrant to do so.”

  “I….you’d arrest me? But….” Don was flabbergasted. He sat down again. He hadn't done criminal work for many decades. He’d forgotten how tough it was for people, one minute going about their lawful business and the next hauled off to the nick. How suddenly the world changed and you were on the wrong side. In modern times the police were probably far more civilised than they had been in his day. They tended now not to intimidate people. There were protocols and plenty of members of the public ready to make a complaint.

  “Sir, you’ll understand that allegations of sexual abuse are very serious. If you were having unlawful sexual relations with your daughter against her will, then she’ll come back to England in a couple of weeks and if we do nothing about it she’ll be back in this house and you’ll continue to do so. Including being violent towards her. I’m sure you understand we can'
t allow that to happen. But if you’re not, then you have nothing to fear.”

  Don felt defeated. He was starting to take it in at last and comprehend his situation. By whatever travesty, however it had come about, the engine had been fired up now and the machinery had started to turn. It would continue and gather momentum and it wouldn't stop until there was some sort of clear conclusion. And there probably wouldn't be a lot he could do to prevent it.

  “All right,” he said. “I’ll go and get my jacket.” He got up again then stopped. “Oh and you’d better send your forensic people round here. They won't find anything though.”

  “If you could wait here a moment sir,” said the DI taking his `phone out of his pocket. “Er….could I just ask? This is your property isn't it?”

  “Yes,” replied Don.

  “OK. I’ll call the station now. I’ll just be a minute or so.” And Norton stepped out into the hall. Don, standing looking out of the window, could hear a muffled quiet one-sided conversation going on outside the room.

  The DI came back in and told Don that he was able to get the forensic team round straight away so they would all have to wait here for forensics to arrive. They could be here then to let them in and stay here until forensics had finished, which he stressed wouldn't take long, then go to the station after that. Very neatly done, thought Don but nodded his agreement.

  “Well I’d better offer you some tea then,” he said.

  “Not for me thanks,” said DI Norton, “but DS Pearce here will be happy to make you a cup if you wish.”

  “I can make my own tea thank you,” said Don.

  “Well on this occasion I’ll have to ask you to stay in here.”

  “Look. That seems very unreasonable. I’m not under arrest. You’ve no right to make me sit here for several hours twiddling my thumbs until such time as you’ve done all the things you want to do and we can go to the station.”